Wuss is a disgusting, intolerable substance in a man.
My friend had a cyst on his back, full of a foul dairy product. A doctor had to come, cut an “X” across its surface, and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until all the rancid cottage cheese was out. It needed to all come out, and it took cutting and squeezing and scraping to get the job done.
Wuss is far worse than rancid body cottage cheese. Left to fester in the male body, if it takes the worst course, then it will leave him an unman, without any of the beauty and glory of woman.
I know some men who, though not perfect, as they have yet to die, are wuss substance free. I, however, have wuss in me, more than I’d like to admit, which is why tonight I am grateful to God for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Like sanctification exposing my sin, BJJ exposes my wuss. Like the doctor cutting and squeezing, each opponent applies pressure until a glob of wuss comes out on the mat. Tonight, a man of commendably superior brutality cranked me in a choke so decisively, with the firmness of a wood shop clamp, that wuss globs came out of my ear holes as weapons grade projectiles.
At that point, with wuss exposed on the mat, the man has the same choice he has in all of sanctification. When sin is exposed, he can pick up its dark folds in his arms and wrap himself to hide away with it. Or the Christian man can spit on it, and step forward to press on. Wuss globs before you, you can pick up the chunks, try to tuck them in your shorts, and slink away, like a head crushed snake. Or you can take your bare, toe-juiced foot and smear those globs right into the mat, step forward, and press on. Obviously, there’s not really a choice. There’s just the required strength of will to do what must be done.
BJJ gives space for combat against men, and that is good and glorious. But, gratefully, it also assaults the wuss with a vengeance. Are you wuss substance free? Respectfully, unless you’re one of my buddies directly related to Chuck Norris, I doubt it. What are you going to do to get the wuss out? Don’t let those curds stay put. Oss.