Brian Free - I Want To Be That Man Lyrics

Video

Brian Free & Assurance - "I Want To Be That Man" (Official Music Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

My hands have grown spotted and stiff over these decades. Most nights, I find myself sitting by the window, the old hymnal on my lap worn smooth at the edges, listening to Brian Free sing about the kind of man I’ve spent my entire life trying to become.

There is a line that stops me cold every time: “So, I’ll take up my cross and trace His steps / Surrendering is how I serve Him best.”

When you’re young, that sounds like a heroic posture—a soldier standing tall on a hill. But after forty years, I know that surrendering is rarely a grand, cinematic moment. It’s usually quiet. It’s the late-night hospital vigil when you don't know what to pray for anymore. It’s the choice to be kind to someone who has forgotten your name. It’s the realization that you cannot manufacture your own fruit, no matter how hard you labor. It’s the terrifying, liberating truth of Galatians 2:20—that the life I live now, I live by faith in the Son of God. My own strength? It ran dry a long time ago.

I look at the world now, and it’s noisy. Everybody is shouting their worth, demanding their due. Free sings, “Society would say / There’s a new ideal today / Not what you give / It’s more about what you can get.” That isn't just a critique of the culture; it's a mirror held up to my own vanity. It is so easy to drift into the rhythm of acquisition, even in the church. We want to be seen as the "man" who has it all figured out, the one who leads the charge. But the cross is a heavy thing. If you’re actually carrying it, you aren't looking around to see if people are applauding your leadership. You’re looking at the ground, at His footprints, praying you don't stumble.

I think about the image of the father with the open Bible, waking before the sun. I’ve known men like that. They aren't perfect. I’ve had my own arguments, my own failures, the kind that make you want to hide your face. But when the light fades and the house goes silent, it isn't the prestige or the "stand" that matters. It’s whether you held the Father’s hand while you were walking through the dark.

I’m still not sure I’ve arrived. In fact, the further I go, the less I feel like a finished product and the more I feel like a child holding on for dear life. Maybe that’s the point. The "man" I wanted to be at thirty was a man of steel. The man I want to be now is just a man who has learned to stop fighting the grace that’s been pursuing him since his first breath.

It isn't "young man's noise." It’s an ache. And looking back, that ache is perhaps the only thing that kept me moving forward.