Every headline seems to blame men for the world’s mess. Here’s why I won’t raise apologetic sons—and how I’m anchoring them in something better.
Everywhere You Look, Men Are the Problem—Or Are They?
Some mornings, coffee in hand, I scroll the news before my kids wake up. Lately it’s hard to ignore the drumbeat: another think-piece about the dangers of masculinity, another viral take blaming men for society’s ills. In just the last week, I’ve seen everything from opinion pieces on the "toxic patriarchy" to national leaders publicly worrying about “angry men.”
I’m raising three sons. And two daughters. It’s not lost on me that, if you believe the headlines, my boys are destined to be either oppressors or inept. Apparently, it’s their masculinity—my masculinity—that’s the core threat. My oldest is barely a teenager, but the message is loud: tone it down, don’t be too much, apologize for being male.
But I refuse to raise apologetic sons.
The World is Starved for Real Men
I’ve seen plenty of the worst parts of manhood—up close. My dad struggled hard with alcohol before cancer finally took his life. Anger, addiction, absence; I know what happens when men abandon their post. But I also saw him, every morning, open his Bible. I watched him, through the fog, reach for Christ. That daily discipline changed me more than all his mistakes.
The world doesn’t need fewer men. It needs more men who are anchored—immovable in the storm. Men who steward their strength, not to dominate, but to serve. I saw this in the Army. You learn quickly: the loudest guy isn’t the strongest. Courage is quiet, and real leadership is felt before it’s heard. The guys who held the line—who prayed before missions, who bandaged wounds, who walked point so others could rest—those were men worth following. Few of them ever made the news.
For God and country.
What I Tell My Sons (and Myself)
I don’t want my sons to be safe. I want them to be righteous. There’s a difference. Safe men go with the flow, keep their heads down, and hope the world leaves them alone. Righteous men take responsibility. They step into the mess. They use their strength to protect, build, and bless—starting with their own homes.
That’s why I drag myself under the barbell when my body wants to quit. It’s why I show up for my shifts in the neuro ICU, even when I’m bone tired. It’s why, every night, I pray with my kids. Not because any of these things make me a "good person," but because discipline and faith are what hold a man together when the world is on fire.
If you’re a father, you’re shaping the next generation’s idea of what a man is. I fail plenty. I lose my temper some days. I apologize more than I’d like. But my kids see me repent. They watch me open the Word, just like I watched my dad. It leaves a mark—even when you don’t see it right away.
The Call: Don’t Shrink Back
Brother, don’t let the headlines make you soft, and don’t let them make you angry for the wrong reasons. You’re not here to apologize for being a man. You’re here to steward the strength God gave you—for the sake of those He’s entrusted to you.
John Calvin wrote, “The strength of the soul is shown by the endurance of faith.” Whether you’ve got sons, daughters, or just the guys in your circle watching your example, the world needs to see men who endure, repent, provide, protect, and persevere.
My prayer tonight is simple: Lord, give us courage to be men who don’t run from the fight—but who fight the right battles, in the right spirit, for the right King.
Stay steady. The world’s watching—more importantly, so are your kids.
Justin — Mission Fit Men Team
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