Strength

a random overflow of thought / excerpt from a Humanities essay

Our culture is at war over what it means to be a man. Two opposing ideals are presented to us—both flawed, both hollow.

The first is the soft-spoken, fragile man, with a meticulous hairdo and expensive clothing. He’s never touched a weapon in his life, would never dream of saying “no”, and drives electric cars. He champions social justice, is horrified by the military, and has more product in his hair than most women on his street have had in their lifetimes. His polished exterior hides an inner void.

The second is the brash, brutal bodybuilder. His strength is a hammer, and everything else is a nail. He disrespects others, intimidates the weak, and thrives on fear. Tall, imposing, and utterly self-centered, he embodies the true definition of “toxic masculinity” in all its grim exaggeration (should such a thing exist without the political & cultural baggage).

At some point in your life, you’ve seen one or both of these two stereotypes. Our culture alternates between these extremes, holding them up as ideal masculine models in different moments and circles.

But is that really what an ideal man looks like?

No. The truth lies elsewhere.

God made men to be strong—not in brute force or timid compliance, but in character and purpose. He made men to love, protect, and shelter. He made them to be a bubble of bulletproof glass. Obviously, the distinguishing mark of an ideal man, the “alpha male”, is strength.

So what is true strength?

True strength is controlled power. It means, despite your ability to harm, you are gentle, kind, and loving to those weaker than you. You respect everyone, show chivalry to the opposite sex, and laugh at insults. You are never riled, always calm, always peaceful.

Until danger shows her face.

Then, true strength transforms the man. When the dragons come, the strong man rises—a warrior, ruthless and unyielding. He fights, “not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” (G.K. Chesterton).

And the instant the danger has been neutralized?

The strong man turns again into a lamb. Gentle to those he loves, respectful of all, always chivalrous, and unceasingly patient.

The truly strong man possesses something that neither the feminine man, nor the bodybuilder have. He has control over himself. Over his temptations, his emotions, and his carnal urges. The soft man seeks approval at all costs, the brute demands submission from all. But the strong man stands firm, not for himself, but for those he loves. He carries strength with humility, power with peace.

The irony in all this is that it is made possible because this man has done the ultimate act of weakness. He has completely and totally surrendered to Someone far greater than himself. He has given in to the Spirit, and allowed Him to replace his heart of stone with a heart of living flesh. In doing this, he achieves the pinnacle of strength.

This man is loved and respected by all, with just a tiny tinge of fear behind it. Not because anyone is afraid he would ever turn his strength against them, but simply because of his strength.
Except those who would do him harm. His opponents are absolutely, completely, irrevocably terrified of him. He is their worst nightmare.

But to those worthy enough to be called his friends, he is more deserving of their friendship than anyone they will ever meet.

This, and this alone, is the mark of a truly “strong” man. True strength is not something you can just stumble into—it’s something that you must cultivate. It begins with surrender to the Most High, grows with discipline, and shines like a lamp set on a hill, defying the darkness.

Ad fortes, friends.

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