What Is Masculinity?
Consider this: a recent survey found that about half of men feel pressure to “act manly”—to suppress doubts, dominate in the bedroom, and project strength even when their souls ache. It’s as though the culture hands every man a crown before he knows what he’s ruling, and a scepter before he knows the shape of his heart.
But masculinity was never meant to be a performance—it was meant to be a presence.
In the beginning, God didn’t tell the man to impress the world; He told him to tend it. To guard it. To bring order out of chaos and cultivate life where there was only dust. True masculinity begins in that divine charge—to create, to protect, to provide, and to love.
Before sin ever entered the world, man was given both strength and restraint—dominion and dependence. As Genesis 2:15 tells us, “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.”
He was to lead, yes—but under the leadership of God. To rule—but only as a reflection of the Ruler. His power was meant to serve life, not control it. His voice was meant to speak truth, not dominate. His authority was meant to bless, not burden.
That is the blueprint: a man who stands before God in humility, beside others in love, and against evil with courage. A man whose strength is measured not by what he can take, but by what he can give. Masculinity as God intended it is rooted in stewardship, crowned with service, and animated by love.
Yet for many men, that blueprint got buried.
Our sons are raised in a world where manhood is marketed instead of modeled. The result? A generation of counterfeit kings—one burning everything down in the name of control, another watching it burn while popping popcorn, and another reacting to the ashes with an angry or sad emoji depending on who’s watching. All enslaved to image. All allergic to responsibility. None taking up any real cross.
Underneath every man’s striving lies the same holy hunger: the desire to matter.
Every man wants to know he counts for something—that his life carries weight in a world that treats him as replaceable. That longing isn’t toxic; it’s sacred. God Himself placed it there to draw us into His Kingdom—to make our strength serve His eternal.
But when a man loses sight of the Giver of meaning, he starts manufacturing his own kingdom. He builds his identity out of applause, power, or avoidance. He calls it success, but it’s slavery.
The reality is that, as jars of clay (2 Corinthians 4), the kingdoms we try to build are brittle and will always crumble unless they align with the greater Kingdom of God.
Three Flavors of Toxic Masculinity
So the better question isn’t what makes a man masculine—it’s this:
What does it mean to be a man in the Kingdom of God? A man on The Way?
To arrive at an answer, we must first confront three flavors of toxic masculinity that are polluting the man pool: Pride, Passivity, and People-Pleasing.
1. Toxic Pride
False Throne: “I am my own authority.”
Pride convinces a man that strength is independence and leadership means control.
In our performative, power-drunk age, this is the most applauded of the three. We celebrate the chest-thumper, the self-made man, the loudest voice in the room. Pride parades as confidence but breeds contempt; it sells control as courage and calls domination “vision.” It blatantly—and sometimes violently—uses testosterone as a weapon. It’s the original counterfeit of kingship: the man who crowns himself.
You see it in pastors who build platforms instead of altars—men who preach humility while branding themselves as prophets. They measure success in followers, not fruit; influence, not intimacy with God. The cross becomes a logo; the pulpit, a pedestal.
You see it in politicians who mistake charisma for character. They weaponize religion to rally voters and baptize ambition in patriotic language. They crave applause more than accountability. They promise greatness while feeding on grievance. It’s not governance—it’s idolatry.
You see it in workers of every kind—from the corner office to the construction site—who chase worth through endless achievement. They build their identity on performance, grind themselves into dust, and call exhaustion “drive.” They love productivity but mistake busyness for value. Their careers expand while their souls evaporate.
You see it in husbands and fathers who rule their homes with intimidation instead of integrity. They quote “submission” but forget “love your wife as Christ loved the church.” They crave control because they lack character, confusing fear for respect. Their households may obey, but no one feels safe.
You see it in men among friends, too—the competitor who must always win, the loudest guy at the table who hides his fear under jokes and bravado. He calls it leadership, but it’s insecurity on parade.
Everywhere you look, Pride metastasizes—pulpits without humility, politics without conscience, workplaces without compassion, families without tenderness, friendships without vulnerability. It is man enthroned as god, ruling from a tower that will fall.
Biblical Example: Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel 1–4)
He surveyed his empire and declared, “Is not this the great Babylon I have built?” (Daniel 4:30). His pride made him deaf to heaven until God drove him into the wilderness to remember who was truly King.
Truth: Pride is a throne built on clay. The higher it rises, the faster it falls.
2. Toxic Passivity
False Throne: “If I ignore it, it will go away.”
Passivity is cowardice dressed as peace. It mistakes avoidance for gentleness and silence for wisdom.
If Pride builds the false throne, Passivity abandons it. It is not rebellion through action, but rebellion through absence—a quiet refusal to engage the chaos God called men to confront. Our culture is full of disengaged men: spectators with strong opinions. They binge outrage online but do nothing in real life. They watch corruption, abuse, and decay creep across their homes, their churches, and their nation—and call their silence “balance.” But neutrality in the face of evil is not virtue; it’s treason.
You see it in pastors who refuse to confront sin. They preach comfort over conviction, offering therapy where repentance is required. Their churches swell with consumers but starve for disciples. They quote peace while enabling lukewarm apathy.
You see it in politicians who hide behind bureaucracy and polling data instead of moral clarity. They watch truth collapse under spin and call it “process.” They let tyranny thrive because courage costs votes. It’s not compromise—it’s cowardice institutionalized.
You see it in men in the workplace who know their systems are unjust, their environments toxic, or their coworkers mistreated—but say nothing. They trade conviction for job security, conscience for comfort. They rationalize that they’re “keeping the peace,” but what they’re really keeping is fear.
You see it in husbands and fathers who have checked out—present in body, absent in spirit. They hide behind hobbies, work, or screens, ignoring the emotional and spiritual erosion in their homes. They call their withdrawal “giving space” when it’s really surrender. They’ve abdicated their family’s flourishing to fatigue.
You see it in friendships that never go deeper than sports, sarcasm, or shared complaints. Men who see their brother drowning in addiction or apathy and say nothing, because “it’s none of my business.” They confuse tolerance for loyalty while their friends slowly self-destruct.
Everywhere you look, Passivity metastasizes—pulpits without power, governments without courage, workplaces without conscience, homes without fathers, friendships without truth. It’s the quiet killer of everything good and Godly.
Biblical Example: Adam (Genesis 1–3)
While the serpent whispered and Eve wrestled, Adam watched. He was not deceived; he was disengaged. His silence was the first abdication of moral authority—and the world still groans from it.
Truth: Passivity is not humility—it’s rebellion by neglect. It is sin by subtraction.
3. Toxic People-Pleasing
False Throne: “As long as they’re happy, I’m okay.”
If Passivity refuses to step into the chaos, People-Pleasing tries to manage it. It looks busy, sounds humble, and feels kind—but it’s manipulation in disguise. Where Passivity avoids the storm, People-Pleasing builds a false shelter of image-management and calls it love.
People-pleasing feels compassionate but kills conviction. It bows before the crowd and calls it mercy. In our anxious age, this may be the most seductive counterfeit of all. Men who once worshiped power now worship perception. They call it sensitivity, but it’s really self-protection—emotional diplomacy instead of discipleship. They don’t want to rock the boat, but the truth is, they’re steering by optics, not by mission.
You see it in pastors who refuse to preach repentance because “we just want people to feel loved.” They’ve traded the fire of the Gospel for the applause of the crowd. They call it grace, but it’s marketing. They talk about unity while bowing to the golden calf of relevance. Their sermons are safe, their politics transactional. They cozy up to power on both sides of the aisle—either baptizing authoritarian cruelty as “strength” or sanctifying moral compromise as “compassion.” It’s not shepherding; it’s survival. And the flock starves while the shepherd smiles.
You see it in politicians who quote Scripture while selling their souls to the polls. They weaponize fear, flatter their base, and bow to the mob instead of leading it. They kiss the ring of influence and call it “public service.” They care more about retaining office than defending integrity. It’s not leadership—it’s idolatry in a red or blue suit.
You see it in working men who equate compliance with teamwork and affirmation with worth. They avoid hard conversations with coworkers or bosses because they fear disapproval more than dysfunction. They call it professionalism, but it’s people-pleasing plain and simple. They’d rather be liked than be light.
You see it in husbands and fathers who confuse peacekeeping with peacemaking. They avoid conflict, let dysfunction fester, and call it patience. They outsource courage to their wives and wonder why their homes feel spiritually hollow. Their niceness drains the life from love because it is love without truth.
You see it in friendships where honesty is sacrificed on the altar of harmony. Men who never challenge one another because “everyone’s truth is their own.” They avoid confrontation and call it “respect.” They let each other drift toward ruin while liking every post along the way. It’s not friendship; it’s cowardice with emojis.
Everywhere you look, the disease of People-Pleasing metastasizes—politics without principle, pulpits without power, workplaces without conscience, homes without conviction, and churches without Christ.
Biblical Example: King Saul (1 Samuel 15)
When God commanded him to destroy the Amalekites, Saul spared what was valuable and confessed, “I feared the people and obeyed their voice.” He led by poll numbers, not by principle, and lost the kingdom he was anointed to steward.
Truth: The man who lives for approval will never live with authority. He acts, but not out of faith—out of fear.
The True King: The Masculinity of Jesus
Then comes Jesus—the true Man and rightful King.
He could drive money-changers from the temple with fire in His eyes and weep at Lazarus’ tomb with tears on His cheeks. He confronted power without flinching and stooped to wash the feet of traitors.
He didn’t need to prove His worth; His worth proved ours. He didn’t demand to be served; He showed us what service looks like. He didn’t conquer to dominate; He died to redeem.
Jesus overthrew every false throne:
- Against Pride, He emptied Himself and took the form of a servant.
- Against Passivity, He faced the cross head-on, sweating blood but moving forward.
- Against People-Pleasing, He refused the crowds’ demands for spectacle and chose obedience over popularity.
He didn’t silence strength; He sanctified it.
He is the union of passion and purpose, courage and compassion—Lion and Lamb in perfect tension.
He is the Man we were meant to be and should strive to be like—fully alive, fully responsible, fully surrendered. In Him, every man’s restless need to matter finally finds its home. He is the only King who can look at your wounds and call them holy, your failures and call them forgiven, your life and call it beautiful and significant.
His power is made perfect in your weakness—not your strength.
That is The Way. His Way.
The Call
The restoration of manhood begins at the cross.
There, the false thrones are shattered.
There, strength bows before love.
There, authority kneels in service.
There, the crown of pride is replaced by a crown of thorns.
The true man doesn’t conquer to prove himself—he dies to redeem others. The world doesn’t need more alpha males or agreeable males. It needs Christ-formed men—dangerous in righteousness, gentle in mercy, and unshakably secure in the Father’s love.
Men, we were never meant to dominate or disappear. We were made to reign under God’s authority:
To speak truth when silence is seductive. To protect without controlling. To lead without crushing. To love with holy ferocity.
The Way of Jesus is not the middle ground—it’s the higher ground.
It’s the throne that stands not above men but among them, shaped like a cross. Because only the resurrected man can lead with both strength and tenderness— Lion and Lamb, courage and compassion, crown and cross.
For the Sons Who Come After Us
To the sons who come after us—
May you rise to rebuild what our generation broke.
May you wear humility like armor, courage like breath, and love like fire.
May your strength never crush, your tenderness never fade, your conviction never bend to applause.
May you learn early that leadership begins on your knees, not your pedestal.
Reject the false thrones of pride, passivity, and people-pleasing.
Bow only to the King who wore a crown of thorns.
Let His Spirit forge in you a heart both fierce and free—
A warrior’s resolve, a servant’s hands, a son’s confidence.
And when the world tells you to dominate or disappear,
Stand your ground in the middle—
Not the safe middle, but the sacred one—
The narrow road where strength bows to love,
And every throne is shaped like a cross.
The Way Soul Care
If this vision of redeemed masculinity stirs something in you, that’s what The Way Soul Care exists for.
A place for men and women learning to walk in the way of Jesus through the tangled realities of calling, leadership, grief, and growth.
We don’t offer quick fixes or macho motivation—we offer formation. We’ll tell it like it is and get to the point. And we’ll do it with love, empathy, and understanding.
It’s the sacred work of becoming human again under the care and direction of the true King.