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I think the worst thing for a human being is the feeling of being lost. Compound that with being alive in this age of watered-down values, loose morals, and the fear of actually speaking your mind, and it’s even worse. To add to that, imagine being a man, perhaps even a white man. Look around. You don’t need glasses to work out that there’s an attack on masculinity. Then add being a Catholic to this recipe. As the media would have it, you’re someone who supports the sexual exploitation of young children. Finally, to make things even more volatile, imagine learning the science of destroying a human body in a methodical and effective manner. Violence is bad, apparently.

That’s me. I am all of those things. I’m alive in an age where conforming to the ludicrous school of thought is a must. I’m a male. Yes, the opposite of a female. One of the only two genders there are. Yes, my skin is white, but my heritage isn’t. My bloodline is from a little country called Lebanon. I’m a church-going Bible-bashing, Eucharist-accepting, confession-visiting, Hail-Mary-praying Catholic, and a Maronite Catholic at that. And on top of all those things, I’m a teacher and a student of what has to be the best of the best in science-based fighting systems.

I have my own unique take on things. I do things my way, but really I’m part of a community and a group of mostly similar people. I think the biggest difference between me and my close group of friends or family is that I’m the only one who actually engages in the structured training and teaching of self-protection. Most of my friends don’t. They may have dabbled here and there in some form of martial art or boxing or other combat sport, but none has travelled the path I have. However, I think it would be fair to say, most of the men in my family are alpha males. We don’t back down from a confrontation when our values are threatened. I think it would be fair to me to say, most Maronite men I know are like that.

Like most people who loosely fit my description, that is, the Catholics, the men of around my age, have a sense of being lost. Every single person has his own struggle of sorts. He may be struggling with debt, or career, or relationships, or kids, or family, or something of critical importance. In my view, that feeling of being lost is like a disease of the mind. Victims of this disease may feel hopeless, or unfulfilled, or empty, or misaligned (or even unaligned) with God. It’s a horrible feeling. We experience this big obstacle wherever we turn. It’s as if every good thing we want in life is on the other side of an unconquerable obstacle.

That was me, once. Like one of those guys, I spent my weekends doing fun stuff, going out, and having at least one visit to Mass. Those of you who go to Mass should know that it isn’t always fun. Your mind can wander, and it isn’t always a fruitful experience. But at other times it can be a profound experience, where something that is said or done within the service touches you to the core, despite it being a seemingly mundane thing. And when that happens, it’s as if a spark has been ignited inside of you. All you want it to do is to burn hotter and bigger. You want it to turn into a raging monster of a fire that will engulf you. To some it’s a scary thing; to me it’s called faith.

For me, however, I needed something else in my life. I needed something that I believed Mass couldn’t do for me. Or rather, I wanted something that would help me understand and see the experience I had in worship of God, in a different way. For me, going to church was like going to a tutorial at university. It’s where I went to learn the theory. I needed something else that would help me approach this thing called faith in a way that I could test, to see if it would work for me and in me.

That other thing was my training. At the time I went looking for it, I had not idea what “it” was. I had no idea what “it” looked like and I had no experience in anything outside of work and study. I don’t remember my journey precisely, but I can tell you that prior to actually finding something I believed was suitable, I spent four years going from gym to dojo class, to learn different styles of martial arts. I tried them all. Judo. Karate. Kung Fu. Aikido. MMA. Boxing. Olympic wrestling. Taekwondo. But nothing clicked with me or enticed me to stay. Tai Chi was even something I tried. Something was still missing from this training experience, and something was still not clicking for me. I did however, believe that I was close to finding an answer.

Then came the break I was looking for. Then came the day I met the instructor who changed my view on all things martial arts. The first day I met him, I thought he was not only full of himself, but also a fake. My beliefs about instructors were thrown out the door when I encountered him. He was nothing like what I imagined he should have been. He wasn’t the Mr Miyagi that I thought I needed, like in Karate Kid, and he wasn’t someone who “looked” like he was a master. He looked unassuming and he looked like someone who would blend into the crowd. Beyond his physical looks, there was no energy there that I imagined instructors or teachers should have. That was the first day. The rest is history.

What I can tell you about this experience, and how my faith was challenged, tested and triumphant, was that it happened in a way I never believed possible. It happened through what I call darkness. It was no coincidence that, outside of training, I was going through some rough stuff in my personal life. I had so many demands on me. I felt trampled and unable to breathe, some days. The thoughts in my head were like a runaway train, and the tracks were running out.

What I learned about faith and about being a man was that human life could be fragile, but at the same time it could be a ferocious force. Two ends of the spectrum, two sides of the same coin and I was stuck in between.

I believed life was fragile because throughout the course of my training, I learned it was so easy, if you knew how, to take someone’s life, or degrade their quality of life until they wished they were dead. This could be done through physically manipulating the human body by way of defensive tactics. That is to say, if someone attacked me, and I used what I had learned to the fullest extent, turning my attacker into a quadriplegic wasn’t difficult, even if my attacker was a nine-foot tall, muscled-up body builder on steroids. It raised lots of questions that I didn’t have answers to, and this concerned me because the very questions my mind was entertaining were weighing me down. More weight wasn’t what I needed at this point in my life. I wanted to feel lighter.

Some of the things that went through my head were questions like “Who am I to take a life?” or “Ok, so this guy broke into my house, and he’s carrying a knife ready to stab someone. Should I really gouge his eyes out?” or “But what if I’m not ready for this attack?” or “I can’t trust myself with this; what do I do now?” Thus self-doubt grew. Like a corrosive evil tumour, this self doubt grew uncontrollably. But with it, grew the knowledge of power gained from my training. Two dogs fighting for the same space in my head.

My training filled every vacant space in my mind—even the space occupied by other things such as education, career and family. It was like a cuckoo kicking out the eggs in a nest of another bird. A rapidly-spreading virus within me that was forcing me to look at the world in a different way. I searched high and low in every book on self-defence theory, in an effort to answer these questions, but nothing satisfied me.

One day in my later grades, something my teacher kept telling me again and again finally clicked. “Paul,” he said, “if someone is coming to take your life, will you let them?” This was the point at which I no longer felt my doubts were an ocean of misery in which I was drowning. They had shrunk down to fit on my spectrum of ideas. At the other end of the spectrum, as I now understood it, I realised that a human life could be a ferocious force, an immovable object, an unstoppable juggernaut, should it decide to be, but it could also be the most fragile delicate flower requiring the utmost care.

The more I learned about the system I was studying, the more power I realised I had. I, a mere mortal, a garden variety, turn-the-other-cheek Catholic guy, had a choice of being a doormat for anyone to use, or the offspring of a tropical cyclone and an earthquake, ready to destroy anyone and drive them into the ground to be swallowed up by the earth. This was the part of my development that switched my self-doubt into cockiness. It was typical of the kind of training in which students bailed out of their course of study because they believed they knew it all, and went off to conquer the world.

A small voice inside of me was telling me this was only the beginning. It was a voice that helped to centre me between two extremes, one being a victim and the other a merciless destroyer.

Looking back now, and after a very long time trying to work out what or who that voice was, I rationalise that voice to be the Holy Trinity. It humbled, comforted, warned and encouraged me, all at the same time. It led me to see myself as neither a destroyer nor a punching bag, but rather as a centred individual who was balanced, capable, useful, wanted and respected.

It was my faith that stopped me from going over the edge at either end of the scale, and I know the same has happened to people close to me. They weren’t students of martial arts schools, but people who had experienced extreme moments in their lives that had caused them to run towards a way of living that wasn’t healthy. I know guys who are dripping with muscles and tattoos, who hang out with the toughest types, and I know guys who are the quietest lambs you’ll ever come across, people who could easily be persuaded to your viewpoint. They are all Catholics, and most are Maronite Catholics. What they have in common is a feeling of being lost and an inability to deal with life’s problems.

They would call themselves devout and maybe they are. But what they have all told me is that they don’t know how to change their situation, or to be decisive in improving the lives of their families. Work doesn’t do it. Nor does sport. Having a respectful and loving girlfriend, fiancée or wife can definitely help, but not always. Something more is needed to supplement the normal, animal instinct of every young male. Something else is needed to satisfy his hard-wired coding. Something pragmatic, useful, tangible and powerful. Something fulfilling in a way that helps a young man be comfortable, and accepting, of who and what he is.

That’s where I am different, as anyone who has been through what I’ve been through would know. These guys have become people who know themselves. They have become decisive men, seeing their decisions through to the end not because they are out of control, but are choosing to see them to the end. They’re men on a path with an unwavering determination to complete their duty. Even if that duty is as small as mowing the lawn. They are now soldiers in their own right, going through, under, over and around any obstacles blocking their path. They’re people who get things done. They get them done because at that moment, there is no one else who can get them done. There is no one else who can get them done in a way that only they can, and there is no one else who can get things done in such a way that displays tenacity, determination and a drive for perfection.

My faith improves my training and teaching ability, which in turn improves my understanding and connection to my faith. I feel a connection with Christ when I do what I do. I feel God in me when I have to hit a punching bag. I feel the Holy Spirit right near me if I have to focus in a kata. I know Christ is with me when I need to pass on information to a new, impressionable young student. If Christ Himself is in me, then surely this is perfection personified, in me. (no, I’M NOT PERFECT, but Christ being in me is perfection in me. There’s a big difference). So if the perfection is in me, then everything I apply myself to doing, must have the influence of Christ, and therefore perfection. For this reason, I, and young men who assume the responsibility of being a man, must display perfection in all that they do. Everything they do.

I consider myself a responsible teacher. Despite all my skills in controlling and directing violence, the more I learn, the more I realise the level of care I need in exercising them. As the passage goes, To whom much is given, much is expected (Luke 12:48). My job isn’t to turn confident men into arrogant ones, nor is it to turn quietly-spoken, gentle individuals into loud-mouthed fools. I want them to see that God has placed a special seed in each of them, one that needs to be guarded, nourished and nurtured so it can produce fruit. The way to guard and nurture people is through martial discipline because it’s the martial mindset that carries over into other parts of life, even the small boring seemingly negligible parts of life which mean nothing at all in the grand scope of things I want men, especially, not to feel sorry for themselves, to feel guilty about being men, or to shy away from the world because of their Catholic beliefs.

In this world where Christians are the most persecuted group of people, and where the middle class white male is the apparent cause of the world’s evil, I want them to be silently courageous and rest in Christ. If your mind is trained, and the spirit is primed, the body is will take care of itself, and it will do its job every time. We go along for the ride, trusting Christ to guide us. It really is a case of mind over matter.

The principles I believe in, are those which have foundation in Christ himself. Acting in the face of and despite fear, demonstrating a responsibility to others and self, moving with intent and for the purpose of the betterment of others, and dedicating oneself to the improvement of quality of life physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually If I can teach each man the principles I believe in, he will be able to face anything, from an inconsolable infant child who is teething at 2:30am, to a large and menacing drug addict with a bloodied syringe who is lunging at him and his wife in a carpark or dealing with the manager at work who just makes life hard for no reason.

God has given us Catholics much to be joyful about. Our faith is not the easiest path. In fact, it can be a heavy burden. But nothing worthwhile comes easy, and to those who are prepared and ready for battle, the load feels lighter, the way becomes clearer, and the goal becomes more attainable. How do I know this? You only need to read the history of countless number of saints who’ve come before us. They demonstrated it can be done.

I’ve been judged by others, even by Maronite Catholics. I’ve been labeled as violent and apostate. So for them, and for anyone else who questions my motives, this needs to be said: My aim isn’t to start my own religion. I don’t want to or need to. I’m not here to drag you away from the Catholic Church or any other denomination. Nor do I discourage you from from taking a peaceful approach to life’s problems. This book is to encourage you to get closer to your faith. The message in this book is to remind you that your faith is more valuable than the entire universe’s wealth and riches. Hold on tight to it, and no matter what you do, seek Christ in all things. Living in this time of social decay, there’s no choice for you but to stand up and be a man. You’re supposed to be a beacon to others in your life that Christ augments you. Slouching over like you’re defeated is a sin of galactic proportions. You’re proving to the world that there’s something God CANNOT do. What a great insult to the God of the impossible who made everything from nothing.

I want you to take away some messages from this book. It has my opinion on things, and an explanation on how I grew in my own faith. About how martial training was one of the best things that could have happened to me, but also, how horrible it could have all been if I chose the wrong type of training. The way I punch or kick or put someone in a head lock is yet to save my family from danger, but what does save them is the way I think which has been derived from years of punching and being punched. It’s so important, that you as gentleman in this world, need to be accepting of the fact that you may need to lift your fists one day to protect people that are nearest and dearest to you. If you find yourself cornered, forfeiting your life is not an option. In other words, it’s your spiritual duty not to give up. You’re committing suicide if you do. Be proud of who you are and your achievements. No matter how bad life is, don’t give up. If you that if you look up instead of down, then whatever you set out to achieve, if it be for the glory of God, it will happen as you work with Christ.

You cannot live, truly live, until you begin to see yourself as worthy and courageous. You will find I will reference St Paul through this book, and I do that because he is one person who I find, that despite his past, he turned his life around to do something constructive and worth while. According to all the texts I’ve read about him, he never had a wife and kids, but his family became those who he spent his time with the most. It was those people he cared for so much which drove him to fight this spiritual war. If this murderer, this genocidal maniac, who is now a doctor of the church, fought his own way then so can you.