A Man's Porch

There are very few things that can bring a bold sense of comfort and security like a man’s back porch. The house is his castle, no doubt, but the back porch is the gateway to his dominion. It’s where contemplation takes place. It’s where we go to smoke various meats. It’s where we find escape from the chaos and anxiety that society fills our plate with. Dogs lie at our feet like the Sphinx, guarding the land and keeping it free of intruders who might attempt to overthrow the land, or steal acorns from the tree.

It is where we go to overlook the vastness of our legacy. From our porch, we can see the past, present, and future. It is where our pride and cocky demeanor are amplified. Like a king surveying from a citadel, we peruse the landscape. Some may claim that our lands aren’t as plentiful as the kingdom adjacent to ours, but we are well pleased with what lies within our borders. From our humble perch, the square feet become acres upon acres. Limitless is the kingdom we gaze upon.

In our eyes, the minuscule storage shed takes the form of an immense armory in which our munitions are stored. The infinitesimal garden, via our perspective, can feed the masses with its plentiful harvest. The paltry flower bed that surrounds the house… a grand mote that keeps encroaching armies at bay. The narrow garden hose that awaits to be unwound and released takes the shape of an intricate irrigation system that keeps the realm’s vegetation lushly green. Even the vinyled outer walls of our humble abode begin to resemble an opposing edifice that lets neighboring tribes know we are a force to be reckoned with.

As reigning King of our dominion— we, much like the Warlike Harry, assume the Port of Mars. Head held high, and chest puffed out… if we had victory medals we’d wear them proudly… for the whole world to see. Why? Because we can. We sit at a vantage point that allows us to discern the world’s (and Satan’s) next move. We go to God in prayer and ask for strength, mercy, and wisdom… for kingdom and self.

In the early hours of the morn, we stand under the pavilion’s sentry and acknowledge what God has granted us. We give Him thanks… first for Christ Himself, then for our wives, daughters, and sons, and finally for our territory that in our mind stretches far beyond the assumed property line. For his grace, mercy, and love… we are thankful.

The midday ritual consists of us taking our place in the wooden rocking chair that, in our eyes, emulates an exquisitely magnificent golden throne. From our station, we light a pipe and let the embers of the tobacco give way to thin wisps of smoke that ascend into heaven like the sweet smell of smoke from the sacrificial alters of days gone by. Higher and higher whispering thanks to God as it stretches into the celestial expanse of space, and then dissipates unto itself.

As night falls, we light up the territory with the heavenly halogens that cause the scattering of shadows— and we watch. What we’re watching for is not as important as how we watch. We take witness like a Monarch who is beholding the riches of his region. The day’s battles have taken their toll, but seeing the richness of what we’ve been blessed with brings a smile to our face and joy to our heart. Oh, what a joy. For this land is ours… it belongs to no other man. We embrace the Heavenly Father’s provision of land as a child clings to his mother’s devotion.

The porch is the bastion from where we consider all things— from spoils of war to the riches in our coffers. It’s where we pray to God for the strength and wisdom required to crush Satan’s many assaults. We beg for Christ’s supplication, and we give thanks for the blessings He bestows… all from our humble stoop. It is where we ask Him to expand our territory and grant us the wisdom and discernment we need to rule over it in a manner that brings glory to Him. The porch is one of the founding pillars of its owner’s existence. There are very few places that can bring a sense of peace, an atmosphere of safety, and a spirit of grandeur and nobility like a porch… a man’s porch.