They'll Sure Tell You How to Be a Man

There's a question that's been floating around public discourse for a few years now, one that's managed to stump politicians, professors, and activists alike: What is a woman? Serious people have given unserious answers. Highly credentialed "experts" have struggled. The question, we're told, is complicated. (It's not.)

But ask those same people what a man is supposed to do? Suddenly everybody's got opinions.

Society has spent decades dismantling nearly every traditional marker of manhood. Leadership is suspicious. Authority is oppressive. Competitiveness is toxic. Stoicism is unhealthy. Strength is threatening. Masculinity itself is often treated like a problem that needs to be managed rather than a gift that can be cultivated.

Then, after tearing down the old blueprint, the same voices turn around and ask why so many men seem lost.

The old definition is condemned as outdated and dangerous. The new definition changes every few years depending on who is writing the articles or trending on social media.

It's a rigged game. The modern world wants the benefits of strong men without tolerating the traits that produce them. It wants men who will run into a burning building, work sixty hours a week, absorb criticism without complaint, and stand between their families and danger. It just doesn't want them to sound too confident while doing it.

Good luck with that.

Because in the middle of all that confusion, a lot of men have simply… stopped.

A slow surrender that's gotten comfortable. Men in their prime, physically capable, sitting on the couch, collecting reasons why today isn't the day. Pain. Exhaustion. Anxiety. The system. The economy. Pick one.

Now, some of those reasons are real. But somewhere between real hardship and chronic excuse making, a line got crossed and we stopped being willing to say so out loud. Proverbs doesn't ease into it: "If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small." (Proverbs 24:10) 

I am going to give you a bit of insight into my life.

For two years, I woke up every single morning in debilitating pain.

Chronic pancreatitis doesn't negotiate. It doesn't care what you had planned, what your family needs, or what's on your calendar. It was relentless. And I ended up in such bad shape the only option was a rare surgery (TPIAT) that came with drastic life changes. 

And I went to work.

This past week we wrapped up Job in our teen class at church. Job the one who was losing everything and questioning God about it. And in the middle of all that, God doesn't offer sympathy. He just says:

"Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me." (Job 38:3)

The command comes before the restoration. Rise first. Relief, if it comes, comes later.

That's the part we skip over. 

I'm not telling you my story to boast. I'm not special and I'm not tougher than the next guy. I'm telling you because if I could drag myself through two years of that, the bar for "I can't" needs to be a lot higher than most men are setting it.

That's what's missing, the quiet, internalized standard a man carries in his chest, the one that gets him out of bed when everything in him would rather stay down. Paul wasn't being flowery when he wrote

"be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be courageous, be strong." (1 Corinthians 16:13)

He was writing to a church that was wavering. Going soft in places that mattered. The command was practical.

It still is.

Nehemiah's men were rebuilding a wall with enemies on all sides. Exhausted. Mocked. Afraid. He didn't tell them to "process their feelings." He told them:

"Do not be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your homes." (Nehemiah 4:14)


Men don't need to broadcast every hardship they're facing. They should carry their burdens with dignity, seek help when needed, and continue fulfilling their responsibilities.

You can argue all day about what a man is supposed to be. Culture will keep having that argument in circles. But here's a simpler test: when it costs you something, do you still show up?

Because that's what I've seen separate the men who build something from the men who stop. Not talent. Not luck. Not the absence of pain, nobody gets that. Just the decision, made quietly and repeatedly, to get up and go anyway.

"Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." (Galatians 6:9)

Society may not be able to tell you what a woman is.

But the Bible can tell you what a man is.

He's the one who pushes on, not shuffling toward the minimum but moving with intention, with fire, because he knows who sent him and what he was made for.  

Love you dearly.
Jacob