The Time for men to Become Men.
Remember the joy of suffering together—in the worst of workouts, the longest of games?
The quiet satisfaction of shoveling your neighbor’s driveway.
Buying flowers for no reason.
Leaving a few extra dollars for the waitress.
Collapsing onto the couch after a day in the yard.
That weird little triumph after studying all night.
Or playing through sickness just to finish the game.
Remember what it felt like to forget yourself?
To be fully in the world?
To follow your dad around, doing what he did—because he was good, and you wanted to do good too?
What is it in us that wants to enlist with our brothers?
To charge into battle for something bigger than ourselves?
Why do we romanticize knights riding through deserts and disaster?
Why does the image of a man laying his coat over a puddle still move us?
Why do we want to provide?
And why does our laziness make us hate ourselves?
Why do some jobs feel like prison?
Why do we naturally associate good men with marriage? With fatherhood?
What’s a good son, but a young man obedient to a good father?
What’s a good man, a hero, but someone who smiles in the face of evil?
What is it about giving your life for someone else?
Even in small ways—like filling their plate before your own.
Why, when we show someone something beautiful, do we instinctively watch their face?
Why do we want to escape?
Why do we grow careless?
Indifferent?
Why do we settle?
Hate each other?
Love only ourselves?
Do we even love ourselves?
Or just please our bodies?
Do we have love anymore?
Or is it all just cheap?
If life is so easy and comfortable,
Why is there so much suffering?
So much confusion, so much anxiety?
If our bodies are strong in the gym,
Why are we so weak in spirit?
We have so much health—but no life.
So much knowledge—but no peace.
Why?
What is it about a wise man that draws us in?
He’s trustworthy. Anchored. Charming. Solid. Why?
Because we were made in the image of God.
He—our King—came to us, peasants.
He lived with us.
Suffered with us.
Wept with us.
Rejoiced with us.
Died for us.
So that our pain, hunger, work, triumph, celebration, death—could all be redeemed.
So they could mean something.
So they could be filled with Love.
Not a feeling. Not something we chase.
But a fire born within us.
Lived. Given. Poured out.
It’s in God’s nature.
So it’s in ours too.
These bodies were given to us to experience—but not just for pleasure or gain.
They were given for service.
Your strength, your talent, your potential—it’s not just for you.
Your rejoicing and glory are secondary.
Learn. Pray. Seek. Love. Labor. Give. Serve—
Not just for yourself, but for everyone around you.
So they too can share in the Light God meant for them to enjoy.
Your job is to clear out the clouds.
And when the sun shines for them, it shines for you too.
Wake up.
The spirit of evil is real. It’s loud.
Demons whisper and drag us from the path.
They climb on our backs like monkeys and drive us mad.
Our bodies bark like dogs and pull us around the world.
Silence them.
Restore your soul to the image of God.
Don’t be distracted.
Don’t be deceived.
Seek God. And see.
Become a Light.
Give up the purpose you created for yourself.
Let go of your personal beliefs, your desperate self-love, your need for control.
Let God enter.
Let Him live in you.
It’s time to be a man.
A real one.
Virtuous. Humble. Loving. Sacrificial. Serving.
Wise. Joyful. Peaceful. Honest.
Unshakeable in faith.
Merciful beyond reason.
Sorrowing for mankind.
Fierce against evil—but never against men.
A hero. A king. But a peasant before God.
When we live like Christ, we don’t just imitate Him—we share in His love.
That’s why we feel those things.
Because He entered into them, and filled them with divine love.
Glory to God for all things.