When we talk about masculinity, certain qualities tend to get most of the attention: strength, leadership, courage, protection. Those matter. But there’s another quality—one I believe is foundational—that often gets overlooked:
Creativity.
Not creativity in the sense of being artsy, innovative, or wildly imaginative (though many men are). I’m talking about something deeper and more universal: the act of creation itself.
The ability God gave men to shape, to form, to cultivate, and to bring life where there wasn’t life before.
Masculine Creativity Begins in Genesis
If you open the book of Genesis and pay attention to the first tasks God gives Adam, something striking emerges.
God doesn’t tell Adam to go conquer anything. He doesn’t tell him to dominate, perform, or prove himself. Instead, God gives Adam creative work.
Adam is placed in a garden to cultivate. He’s invited to name the animals. And when Eve is created, Adam participates with God in the calling to fill and multiply the earth.
Before Adam protects anything. Before he leads anything. Before he builds a culture, a family, or a legacy…
Adam creates.
Creativity is the first masculine assignment.
Creativity Isn’t About Talent — It’s About Responsibility
Masculine creativity isn’t about artistic skill or personal flair. It’s about taking responsibility for the raw materials of your life.
A man creates when he:
Turns chaos into order
Turns potential into purpose
Turns emptiness into meaning
Turns fear into safety
Turns confusion into clarity
Turns “nothing yet” into “something good”
Creation happens when a man decides to show up with intention instead of passivity.
What Men Create: Safety, Structure, Atmosphere, and Vision
Many of the most important ways men create are invisible—which is why they’re often overlooked.
Men create safety. A safe conversation, a safe environment, a safe emotional space doesn’t just appear. A man forms it. He builds it through consistency, presence, humility, boundaries, and restraint. Safety is created when others know what to expect from you—and trust that you will show up grounded and regulated.
Men create structure. Structure is one of the most overlooked forms of masculine creativity. A man creates structure when he brings order to what feels scattered. When he establishes rhythms, routines, agreements, and priorities that make life more livable for himself and others. Structure doesn’t restrict life—it supports it. It gives relationships, families, and communities something solid to rest on.
Men create atmosphere. Through his posture, energy, words, and emotional regulation, a man shapes how a room feels. He sets a tone where people can breathe, be honest, and feel encouraged. Atmosphere is often created long before anything is said—it’s carried in how a man inhabits his own body and presence.
Men create vision. A man names direction. He says, “Here’s where we’re going.” He sees possibility where others see obstacles and speaks clarity when others feel lost. Vision lifts people out of survival mode and invites them into purpose.
Some of the most powerfully creative men I know aren’t artists at all. They’re men who create blessing simply by the way they show up.
Why This Matters for Men Who Experience SSA
For many men who experience same-sex attraction, there can be a quiet narrative running beneath the surface:
“I don’t influence other men. I’m on the outside looking in.” “I don’t build the world. I adapt to survive.” “I don’t shape environments. I just navigate them.”
Shame loves to tell us we’re not the kind of men who create.
But shame lies.
The truth is: God designed you to create. To shape. To influence. To bring life into the environments you touch.
Creativity Mirrors the Heart of God
At the core of all this is a simple truth:
Men create because they reflect a creative God.
A God who speaks worlds into existence. Forms humans from dust. Plants gardens. Crafts covenants. Builds nations. Restores cities. Rewrites stories. Raises the dead.
Masculinity isn’t about performance, comparison, or impressiveness. It’s about participating in God’s generative nature—His ability to make things new.
When you create—even something small—you’re joining God in His work.
A Practical Challenge
Here’s a simple invitation for this week: Ask yourself, “What can I create?”
Maybe it’s creating:
A moment of safety for a friend
A disciplined rhythm for your mornings
A conversation you’ve been avoiding
Space in your home—or your heart—for God to speak
An atmosphere of blessing with your words
Real men create. And God wired you that way. Take the raw materials of your life and form something shaped like hope.
Lastly, remember this: you are not defined by the image of the man you’ve strived to be. You are defined by the One who calls you His. Enjoy His calling on your life to create.
Here’s an idea that’s been growing in me for a while — something I’ve lived and wrestled with, and something I believe can change the way you see yourself as a man.
I call it Participating in Masculinity.
Because masculinity isn’t just something you possess. It’s something you participate in. Something you belong to. Something you enjoy.
Masculinity Is Both In You and Around You
For a long time, I believed masculinity was something I had to earn. A checklist I had to complete. A standard I had to meet before I could even call myself a man.
Maybe you’ve felt that too.
“If I’m not as strong as other men…” “If I’m not in a leadership position…” “If I’m not married…” “If I’m not sexual with women…” “If I’m not confident, or tall, or put together…”
Then maybe I’m not quite a man yet.
But here’s what I’ve learned: Masculinity is not a scoreboard; it’s a shared identity. It’s not something you qualify for; it’s a birthright..
And every man — young or old, strong or weak, single or married — participates in the same masculine identity, even if we express it differently.
Masculinity Shows Up in Different Ways
Masculinity is unbelievably diverse.
Sometimes it’s physical strength. Sometimes it’s leadership. Sometimes it’s creativity. Sometimes it’s protection, tenderness, wisdom, humor, courage, or care.
And we all embody these at different levels at different times. A boy is less physically strong than a grown man, but he is no less masculine. An old man may no longer lift what he once could, but he is no less a man. A man may choose not to lead publicly, but he still reflects leadership in how he shows up.
We can feel connected to every masculine trait, even if some show up in us more strongly than others.
If a boy believes, “I’m not strong like him, so I’m not a man,” he will hold his breath. He will shrink. He will refuse to express the masculinity he has.
But if that boy sees the strength of a grown man and thinks, “That strength is part of my identity too — I just don’t possess it yet,” then he gets to breathe. He gets to grow. He gets to participate.
When my son Lane and I are at the pool, he doesn’t shrink when he looks at my body that is larger than his. He enjoys my strength and enjoys his own. He believes, “I’m like Dad, and Dad’s like me.” I get to throw him high in the air, and he gets to fly.
The Tragedy of Opting Out
But me? For years, I had a list of requirements I had to meet before I could consider myself a man. And because I never met my list, I couldn’t receive the positive ways other men saw me.
If a man respected me, I dismissed it. If he welcomed me, I assumed he didn’t really know me. If he saw strength or leadership in me, I minimized it.
I couldn’t participate in the beautiful world of men because I lived out of the belief I was disqualified. And the tragedy wasn’t believing I wasn’t man enough. The deepest tragedy was believing I didn’t belong among men at all.
And while some guys noticed my doubt and treated me poorly or labeled me in response, I believe it made many guys confused — because from their perspective, of course I belonged. They saw me as one of them, even when I couldn’t see it myself.
I had simply opted out. Believing I belonged didn’t feel true. It was uncomfortable. Striving gave me a sense of control.
But I was missing out on so much.
The Shared Experience of Masculinity
One of the most beautiful realities about being a man is this: Other men reflect your masculinity back to you.
A strong man experiences his strength from inside his own body. But you get to watch that strength. You get to see how he moves, how he carries weight, how he takes up space.
And seeing that is good for us. It can inspire us. It reminds us of who we are — of our strength, leadership, creativity, protection, courage, and care.
The masculine traits in others don’t diminish you — they reveal you.
When you let another man’s strength remind you of your own strength… When you let his leadership invite you into your own leadership… When you let his creativity spark yours…
Every time we act out a masculine trait — courage, creativity, discipline, protection, tenderness, strength, leadership, responsibility, and others — we’re stepping into the shared masculine story God has woven through all men.
What We Actually Want as Men
And here is what I believe every man wants:
Every man longs to feel strong, capable, influential, creative, fruitful, present, and alive.
And the truth is: you can feel all of those things, no matter your season of life.
You don’t need a title to feel like a leader. You don’t need a certain body type to feel strong. You don’t need a relationship to feel protective or fruitful. You don’t need validation to feel capable.
You simply need to participate in what is already yours. To believe that you carry the same masculine identity every other man carries. To let the men around you expand what is already true of you. To stop shrinking when someone else’s strengths show up. To let them lift you into a bigger story rather than a smaller one.
When You’ve Been Told You Don’t Belong
For some of you, the idea of participating in masculinity feels almost out of reach — not because you doubted yourself, but because someone else told you that you didn’t belong.
Maybe a coach said you weren’t tough enough. Maybe a dad or brother joked that you weren’t “man” enough, or chose to spend time with other boys instead of you. Maybe a friend labeled you, excluded you, or used your differences against you.
When black hairs started sprouting on my upper lip, I went to my dad and said, “Hey Dad, I’m getting a mustache!” Without showing interest, he said, “No, that’s just peach fuzz.” What I heard was “I will always be a boy, never a man.”
If you have been told you weren’t a man or that you didn’t belong, hear me clearly:
They were wrong.
Because masculinity isn’t something other men get to grant you or take from you. Your masculinity was woven into you by God Himself — long before anyone else had an opinion about you. No one gets to revoke what God wove into your identity. No one gets to tell a man he’s not a man.
Even if someone tried to push you out… you never actually stopped belonging.
You may have withdrawn. You may have hidden. You may have questioned yourself.
But you never lost what was already yours.
I invite you to reclaim that truth — not by fighting your way in, not by performing, not by proving anything, like I tried to do — but by taking action from what was always yours to begin with.
You Belong in the World of Men
Here’s what I want you to take away:
Masculinity is both something you possess… and something you can enjoy being a part of.
You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to wait for it. You don’t have to prove it.
You simply get to participate.
So, choose to let other men inspire you and remind you of your own power. Collaborate with other men to make the world better. Walk confidently as you participate in the shared gift of masculinity.
Lastly, I want you to know you aren’t defined by the story about masculinity you’ve believed. You are defined by the One who calls you His, and He wants you to enjoy the masculine experience He created for you to thrive in.
You’ve got this — because God’s got you.
if you’re ready to go deeper into identity, attraction, and becoming the man God’s calling you to be, join my next Own Your Identity coaching group. Learn more at ownyouridentitynow.com and book a free coaching call to apply.
Let me tell you this: living aligned with your values 100% of the time is easier than 99%.
That 1% difference is those moments where you’re like, “Well, maybe just this once,” or “It’s not that bad, right?”
I’ve been there. Instead of watching porn, I’ve scrolled through social media hoping to stumble across a shirtless guy, listened to suggestive audio clips, and fantasized. I told myself it wasn’t that bad because they weren’t videos. But I knew I was compromising. Those actions weren’t aligned with who I wanted to be.
Can you relate to this?
Maybe it’s messaging a guy that has flirted with you before—not to cross a line, but just to feel noticed for a moment. Or maybe it’s telling yourself, “At least I’m not hooking up,” while still entertaining the fantasy in your mind. And that inner debate—those mental gymnastics—are exhausting.
Here’s what I’ve learned: Being willing to live aligned with your values only 99% of the time rather than 100% is full of mental clutter, inner conflict, and drained energy. It’s not fun. But 100%? That’s freedom. That’s clarity. That’s peace.
The Problem with 99%
So here’s the thing about 99%: it feels like you’re almost there. You’re so close to living in alignment, but you’ve left just enough room for compromise. And that little bit of wiggle room? It will wear you out.
When you’re at 99%, you’re constantly negotiating with yourself. “Is this okay? Should I do this? Is this crossing the line?” That back and forth drains your energy. It creates stress. It pulls you out of alignment with who you want to be.
And when you live at 99%, you start to question not just your choices, but your identity. You wonder, “Am I really who I say I am?” That inner conflict wears you down more than the temptation itself. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, trying not to fall off. You’re constantly fighting to stay balanced, but the wind is pushing you, and the ground feels shaky. At 100%, you’ve stepped back from the edge. You’re on solid ground. You’re safe.
And here’s another thing: 99% is often harder than 50%. When you’re at 50%, you’ve kind of accepted that you’re not living fully aligned with your values. You’re not pretending otherwise. But at 99%, you’re so close to living in alignment that every compromise feels heavier. It feels like a betrayal of who you really want to be.
The Freedom of 100%
Now, let’s talk about living at 100%. The place where compromise is not part of who you are.
When you commit to 100%, you eliminate the need for negotiation. You’ve already made the decision, so there’s no debate. You’re not wasting mental energy trying to justify or rationalize your actions.
At 100%, you’re clear. You’re aligned. You’re free. It’s not about perfection. It’s about clarity. It’s about saying, “This is who I am. This is what I stand for. This is how I choose to live.”
When you set a clear boundary based on your true identity and values, you’re not just avoiding something because it’s “bad” or “wrong.” You’re avoiding it because it’s not who you are.
For example, instead of saying, “I’m not going to fantasize because it’s bad,” you’re saying, “I’m not someone who fantasizes because I value my peace, my purpose, and my relationships.” That shift from rules to identity is what makes the commitment stick.
Why Identity Matters
Getting clear on your identity is huge, because your boundaries are only as strong as the identity they’re built on. If you’re just following rules, it’s easy to bend them. But when your boundaries are rooted in your identity, they become non-negotiable.
If I see myself as someone who’s desperate for male attention, I’ll keep finding ways to feed that need—even if it means small compromises. But if I see myself as a man who’s deeply known and loved by God—who doesn’t need to earn affirmation—then purity isn’t a rule, it’s an overflow of who I already am.
Think about it:
If you see yourself as someone who values integrity, peace, and alignment, then compromising on those values doesn’t just feel wrong—it feels out of character. It feels like betraying yourself.
That’s why owning your identity is so powerful. When you’re clear on who you are and what you stand for, your boundaries become a natural extension of that. You’re not just avoiding temptation—you’re living true to who you are in Christ.
And that brings peace.
Practical Steps to Commit to 100%
So how do you move from 99% to 100%? How do you set clear boundaries that align with your identity and values? Here are a few steps to get you started:
1. Clarify Your Identity
Write down who you want to be and what you stand for. Be specific. This could look like saying: “I am someone who values peace, purpose, and alignment. I am someone who lives with integrity and honors my commitments. I am a man who is secure in God’s love and doesn’t need to chase attention or approval.”
2. Set Clear Boundaries
Define what 100% looks like for you in specific areas of your life. For example: “I don’t consume any content that compromises my peace or integrity. I don’t follow or engage with content that stirs sexual curiosity toward other men. I don’t linger in conversations that pull my mind toward fantasy.”
3. Anticipate Challenges
Identify situations where you might be tempted to compromise and plan how you’ll respond. You could say: “If I feel the urge to fantasize or look for attention, I’ll pause, name the feeling I’m chasing, and choose a healthier way to meet that need—like reaching out to a friend or spending time in prayer or worship.”
4. Celebrate Progress
Acknowledge and celebrate the peace and clarity you feel when you’re living at 100%. Remind yourself of the freedom that comes from alignment.
A Call to Action
So here’s what I want you to take away today:
100% isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being clear. It’s about living in alignment with your true identity and values. It’s about choosing rest over negotiation.
This week, I challenge you to pick one area of your life where you’ve been living at 99%. Get clear on who you want to be and what you stand for, and commit to 100%. Because when you do, you’re not just choosing clarity and peace—you’re choosing to live as the person you were created to be.
You’re choosing rest over inner debate.
You’re choosing peace over compromise.
You’re choosing to live free.
And finally, I want you to remember, you are not defined by the compromises you’ve made. You are defined by the One who calls you His, and He is for you 100%.
What do you turn to when you want to feel alive, strong, Inspired, settled, connected, or safe?
For so many of us, it’s easy to reach for something external—porn, social media, Netflix, food—hoping it will give us that quick hit of the feeling we’re chasing. But here’s the truth: those things might give us a fleeting sense of relief or excitement, but they leave us feeling emptier, more disconnected, and frustrated in the long run.
What if I told you that you don’t need anything outside of yourself to feel those things? What if you could choose to feel alive, strong, inspired, and connected—right now, in this moment?
The Feelings You’re Really Chasing
When we turn to things like porn or endless scrolling, we’re not just chasing the thing itself. We’re chasing the feelings we think it will give us. We’re chasing aliveness, strength, inspiration, connection, and safety. And you know what? That makes sense. Those are beautiful feelings to want. Those are feelings we were designed to crave.
Think about it: God created us as emotional beings. He wired us to desire these feelings because they reflect His nature. God is life. God is strength. God is peace. God is love. When we’re chasing those feelings, what we’re really chasing is Him. We’re chasing the fullness of life He designed us to experience.
The problem is, we’re looking for those feelings in the wrong places. Porn promises aliveness, but it leaves you feeling empty. It offers escape, but it doesn’t bring true peace. It’s like drinking salt water when you’re thirsty—it can never satisfy.
It’s Okay to Want Those Feelings
Here’s what I want you to hear loud and clear: it’s okay to want to feel alive, strong, inspired, settled, connected, and safe. That desire isn’t wrong. It’s not sinful. It’s how God designed you.
The problem isn’t the desire—it’s where we go to fulfill it. When we turn to things like porn, we’re trying to meet a God-given need in a way that disconnects us from Him. But when we choose to pursue those feelings in alignment with His design, we’re not just improving our lives—we’re honoring Him.
When we say, “God, I trust You. I trust that You created me to feel these things, and I trust that You can help me experience them in a way that’s real and lasting,” we’re stepping into a deeper relationship with Him. We’re saying yes to His plan for our emotional and spiritual health.
Choosing Your Feelings as a Way to Honor God
So how do we do it? How do we choose those feelings in a way that honors God and connects us to Him? It starts with recognizing that those feelings are already available to us. They’re not something we have to chase or earn—they’re gifts from God.
Galatians 5:22-23 says, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” These aren’t just feelings we have to muster up on our own—they’re gifts of the Spirit. When we invite the Holy Spirit into our lives, He helps us cultivate these emotions. He helps us choose them, even when it’s hard.
And here’s the best part: when we choose those feelings, we’re not just honoring God—we’re connecting with Him. Philippians 4:8 gives us a roadmap for this: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
When we focus our minds on what’s good and godly, our emotions follow. We start to feel more peace, more joy, more strength—not because of our circumstances, but because we’re aligning our thoughts with God’s truth.
Practical Tools to Choose Your Feelings
Now, let’s get practical. How do we actually choose those feelings in the moment? How do we align our emotions with God’s design? Here are a few tools you can start using today:
Set an Intention for Your Day Every morning, ask yourself, “How do I want to feel today?” Write it down. Then, throughout the day, check in with yourself and ask, “Am I creating that feeling? If not, what small shift can I make to align with it?”
Anchor Your Feelings to Actions Think about the last time you felt truly alive, strong, or connected. What were you doing? Who were you with? How can you recreate that feeling in a small way today? Maybe it’s a walk outside, a quick call to a friend, or even just pausing to breathe and reflect.
Reframe Your Triggers When you feel the urge to turn to something external—like porn, food, or social media—pause and ask yourself, “What feeling am I chasing right now?” Then, ask, “How can I create that feeling in a healthier, more intentional way?”
Visualize Your Ideal Emotional State Close your eyes and imagine yourself at your absolute best—feeling alive, strong, connected, or whatever emotion you’re chasing. What does that version of you look like? How do they carry themselves? What are they doing? Spend 2-3 minutes each morning visualizing this version of yourself and let that emotional state guide your day.
Name It to Tame It When you’re feeling off, take a moment to name the emotion you’re experiencing. Say it out loud: “I’m feeling anxious,” or “I’m feeling disconnected.” Research shows that labeling your emotions reduces their intensity and gives you the clarity to choose a new feeling.
Use Movement to Shift Energy Sometimes, the fastest way to change how you feel is to move your body. If you’re feeling stuck or low, do 10 jumping jacks, take a brisk walk, or stretch for 5 minutes. Movement releases endorphins and helps you shift into a more positive emotional state.
Invite the Holy Spirit into Your Day Throughout the day, pause and say, “Holy Spirit, help me.” It’s that simple. The more you invite Him in, the more you’ll feel His presence guiding your emotions.
A Call to Action
Your emotions are a gift from God. They’re not something to fear or suppress—they’re something to steward. When you choose to focus on what is true, noble, and praiseworthy, you’re not just improving your life—you’re honoring the One who created you.
And when it feels hard, remember this: the Holy Spirit is with you. He’s your helper, your guide, your strength. This week, I challenge you to ask yourself every morning, “What do I want to feel today?” Then, invite the Holy Spirit to help you create those feelings. Because when you do, you’re not just choosing your feelings—you’re choosing to live in the fullness of God’s design for your life.
Lastly, remember this: You aren’t defined by your temptation to turn to lesser things to feel good. You are defined by the One who calls you His, and He invites you to be alive in Him—not just for eternity, but in every moment.
Have you ever had one of those moments where all you wanted was for someone to notice you?
To choose you?
To say, “You matter. You’re enough. I see you.”
I had one of those moments recently,
I was going about my morning, and all of a sudden, that longing appeared in a way I didn’t expect. But it showed me something important about myself, and I think it’s something you might connect with too.
The Trigger: Being Passed Over
The day before this happened, I found out that I’d been passed over for an opportunity. One I had been told was mine. I was ready for it. Counting on it. And then suddenly, it was gone. And I heard the news only second hand. I felt rejected.
And while I have many people in my life who encourage me, I couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. It stirred up something I thought I was past—the old ache of not being chosen.
So when I walked into the gym the next morning, I was carrying that wound.
The Locker Room Moment
I finished my workout and stepped into the locker room. As I was changing, a wave of longing hit me—a deep desire to be noticed, to be seen, to be chosen. And out of nowhere, an intrusive thought popped into my mind:
I imagined a guy looking at me, putting his hands on my torso, and staring at me in a way that implied he wanted more.
And I panicked a little.
My automatic thought was, “What is wrong with me? Why did I just think that? I’m supposed to be beyond this.”
But I knew better than to shut it down or shame myself, I acknowledged it, told myself I was safe, reminded myself of my true desires, and chose curiosity and healthy connection. I made a point to talk to an acquaintance who was there in the locker room—just a simple interaction, saying hi, engaging in a casual conversation. I brought to mind healthy scenes. I recalled receiving a pat on the back and a word of encouragement by a friend. Later, I shared the scene with my wife, even though it was vulnerable.
The Deeper Longing
I could see that the fantasy that came to mind in the locker room wasn’t about sex—it was about longing.
Longing to be noticed.
Longing to be affirmed.
Longing to be chosen.
Let’s break down what was really happening in that fantasy:
The gaze of desire? That was about longing to be noticed. To not feel invisible or dismissed.
The hands on my torso? That was a longing for affirmation in my body as a man. Wanting someone to say, “I see your strength and value. You’re enough.”
The “wanting more” part? That wasn’t about sex. It was about longing to feel fully accepted and pursued—not just tolerated, but wanted at the core of who I am.
And here’s what I know: those longings are human. They’re good. The problem is, when they’re not met in healthy ways, taking them to God, our imagination may fill in the gaps—and often does it with sexual imagery. That doesn’t mean we’re broken. It just means there’s a deeper desire inside of us that’s asking to be seen, healed, and fulfilled in a better way.
And I think those longings to be noticed, affirmed, and chosen are something we all carry. Maybe for you it was back in PE class, standing there hoping someone would finally pick you. That was me. Maybe it was with your dad, when you longed for his attention, but he chose someone else. Maybe at work, getting passed over for a promotion. Or in a relationship, when you felt overlooked.
Those moments shape us. When we’re chosen, we feel seen, valued, and affirmed. When we’re not, it leaves a mark—and that mark can resurface in surprising places, even years later.
For me, it surfaced in the locker room—probably stirred up by the rejection I’d faced the day before and past memories of being overlooked.
But the beautiful thing is this: once we recognize these longings for what they are, we can start meeting them in healthy, life-giving ways instead of letting them get tangled up in shame or fantasy.
Faith + Identity
As I continue to sit with it, I can feel God whisper: “You are already chosen. You’re mine.” There is something about those words, “You’re mine,” that settles my spirit.
That truth pushes back the lies that say, “You’re not enough. You’ve got to prove your worth. You need to be desired to be valuable.”
No. I’m already chosen.
And so are you.
A Practical Tool
Now, I know this isn’t easy.
So here’s a 7-step process I seek to practice when those kinds of thoughts show up:
Pause & Notice – Catch the thought without shame. Just say, “Okay, that’s here. I don’t have to act on it. I get to choose what to do with it.”
Identify the Longing – Ask, “What is this really about? Affirmation? Belonging? Being chosen?”
Replace the Scene – Swap out the fantasy with a healthier picture, whether real or imagined, of affirmation, inclusion, and belonging.
Grieve the Loss – Be honest: “Yeah, I longed for more of this growing up. I wanted to be chosen for this opportunity.” Grieving is a part of healing.
Anchor in Truth – Speak life over yourself: “I am seen. I am chosen. I don’t need sexual attention to know my worth.”
Redirect with Action – Do something that honors your value: reach out to a friend, celebrate a small win, journal gratitude.
Bring It to God and Others – Don’t carry it alone. Share it. Even though it was vulnerable, When I shared the experience with my wife, our connection deepened. I shared about the triggering event and memories it brought up.
Don’t Wait for Someone to Choose You
So let me leave you with this: You don’t have to wait for someone else to choose you. You can remind yourself that you’ve already been chosen.
Through Jesus, we are fully seen, fully known, and fully chosen. Not because of what we’ve done or how strong, talented, or desirable we are—but because God loves us. He sent Jesus to pursue us and invite us into a relationship where we never have to prove our worth. If you haven’t put your love and trust in Him, I invite you to do so.
This week, when shame or insecurity sneaks in, pause and ask: “What am I really longing for right now? And how can I meet that longing in a healthy, life-giving way?”
Because you are already seen. You are already valued. And you are already chosen.
Lastly, I want you to remember that you aren’t defined by whether you are wanted or chosen by others, you are defined by the One who calls you His, who broke the mold when He created you, and chooses you every day with joy.
In late spring, we had one of those hot, bright Texas days where the sun feels like it’s pressing down. My five-year-old son, Lane, was out on the soccer field, running after the ball. He was sluggish at first—he’s always been more sensitive to the heat than the other boys—but the moment he got near the ball, something clicked. He turned it on. He was giving it his all, doing his best, and you could tell he was having fun.
But here’s what struck me most: when it was his turn to rotate off the field, he didn’t try to hide his exhaustion. He just let himself fall to the ground, flat on his back, his head on my lap, arms stretched out like he didn’t have a care in the world. And then, just as easily, he sat up, moved over to the bench, and leaned his head on the shoulder of the boy next to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They started talking, and I couldn’t help but smile.
He wasn’t worried about how he looked or what anyone thought of him. He just assumed he was accepted. It didn’t even occur to him that he might not be.
And as I watched him, I couldn’t help but think back to when I was his age. I played soccer for one year—just one. And I remember how different it felt for me. I wasn’t out there thinking, Here I am. I was thinking, How do I need to be? Every moment on that field, I was filtering the world through this lens of, What do they think of me? Am I good enough? Am I doing this right?
I kept my distance from the other boys, from the world, really. If they only knew me partially, I thought, maybe they’d fill in the gaps with what they wanted me to be. Maybe they’d assume the best. I didn’t dare let them see all of me in case I would come up too short.
And the thing is, that way of thinking didn’t stay on the soccer field. It followed me. It became my normal. Even as an adult, I found myself asking, How do I need to be?instead of just showing up as I was. In meetings, in friendships, even in moments where I should’ve felt safe, I was still holding back, still trying to figure out what version of me would be most acceptable.
It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Living like that. And yet, for so many of us, it’s all we’ve ever known.
But watching my son that day, it was clear he didn’t carry that filter I had. He doesn’t deeply question whether he’s enough—he just assumes he is.
Tools to Just Be
I let that freedom my son felt to inspire some tools to help us experience more moments of peace. They are practices you can carry into your life to experience that same kind of freedom Lane showed me on the field. Let’s walk through them together:
The “Flat on Your Back” Reflection This is about giving yourself permission to rest and release the pressure to perform. Find a quiet space where you can lie down flat on your back, just like Lane did. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Ask yourself: What am I carrying right now that I don’t need to carry? Where am I trying too hard to prove myself? As you exhale, imagine releasing those burdens and letting yourself just be. This isn’t just rest—it’s a declaration that you don’t have to earn your worth.
The “Bench Connection” Practice Lane didn’t hesitate to lean on his teammate’s shoulder, and later, on mine. It was a reminder of how powerful it is to let ourselves be seen and supported. Think of one person in your life who feels safe—someone you trust. Reach out to them and share something real about where you are right now. It could be as simple as, “Hey, I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately, and I just wanted to share that with you.”Notice how it feels to let yourself be seen without filtering or performing. Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s freedom.
The “Play Like a Kid” Exercise Watching Lane play with such joy, even skipping on the field, reminded me of how often we forget to just have fun. Set aside 15 minutes to do something purely for fun—no agenda, no outcome, just play. It could be kicking a ball around, dancing to your favorite song, or doodling in a notebook. As you play, remind yourself: I don’t have to earn this joy. I’m allowed to just be.
The “Assume Acceptance” Mindset Lane didn’t question whether he was loved or accepted—he just assumed it. What if you could do the same? Before entering a social situation, take a moment to pause and repeat this affirmation: “I am already enough. I am already accepted.” As you interact with others, notice when the urge to perform or prove yourself arises. Gently remind yourself: “I don’t need to be extra. I can just be.” This mindset shift can change everything about how you show up in the world.
The “God’s Lap” Visualization When Lane rested his head on my lap, it was such a picture of trust and comfort. It reminded me of the kind of peace we can find in God’s presence—the kind where we can just let go, knowing we’re safe, loved, and accepted. I want to invite you into that same feeling
Take a moment to close your eyes. Picture yourself as a child, tired from the day, climbing into God’s lap. Imagine Him as a loving Father—strong, steady, and full of kindness. Picture His arms wrapping around you, His hand resting gently on your back. See the warmth in His eyes as He looks at you, not with judgment or expectation, but with pure delight. Let yourself feel the safety of that moment, the assurance that you don’t have to do anything to earn His love. You’re already enough. You’re already His.
The Best Place to Just Be—In God’s Presence
God is the ultimate source of comfort and strength. He’s the one who knows every part of you—the good, the messy, the parts you try to hide—and He loves you fully, just as you are. He’s the one who says, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) Let yourself rest in that truth. Let yourself feel held by the One who created you, who delights in you, and who has good things for you.
The truth is, the best place to ‘just be’ is in the presence of God. There’s no striving there. No performing. No need to prove yourself. In His presence, you are fully known and fully loved, exactly as you are. The freedom to rest, connect, play, trust, and feel loved isn’t something you have to chase. It’s already yours. You just have to let yourself experience it.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” Is not just a command—it’s an invitation. An invitation to step out of the chaos of life, out of the noise in your mind, and into the quiet, steady presence of the One who created you. And when you’re in His presence, you don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to fix yourself, figure everything out, or feel a certain way. There is no striving or performing. You just have to show up. And in that stillness, God does the work. He restores. He heals. He reminds you of who you are and whose you are.
Lastly, I want you to know you aren’t defined by how “extra” you are able to be. You’re are defined by the One who calls you His. The one who invites you to come to Him and just be.
Here’s the scene: We were at a pool party at the gym. My wife, who’s a trainer, had brought us along for an event for employees and their families. The weather was perfect, the food was great, and there was this fun, lighthearted energy in the air. They had a cakewalk, water balloons, cornhole, and even a limbo contest.
My kids were pumped to compete against the lifeguards—these tall, athletic, confident guys who clearly had great camaraderie. A crowd gathered to watch. People clapped when a 6’7” guy somehow managed to bend his way under the bar, and they cheered when my daughter simply walked upright under the same bar. Twin lifeguard brothers were especially competitive, and everyone was cheering and smiling.
In the past, a scene like this would’ve been a minefield for me. But last weekend? It brought me joy.
Later, as my wife and I talked about it, I reflected on how I’ve shown up in moments like this at different points in my life. And wow, has that changed.
40 years ago: As a boy, I would’ve looked at those lifeguards like they were gods—so different from me, so unattainable. I was too small, too scared, too separate. I didn’t belong to the “man club,” and I believed I never would. I felt lonely and sad.
30 years ago: I would’ve felt this electric charge in my body just looking at them, and it would’ve terrified me. I would’ve hidden inside myself, convinced I was uniquely flawed, that there was something wrong with me I had to keep secret. I would’ve believed there was this massive gap between their worth and mine.
25 years ago: I would’ve sought out moments like this, but not for the right reasons. I would’ve let lust take over, staring at them, obsessing over them, and losing myself in my thoughts. I would’ve missed the laughter, the camaraderie, the joy of the moment.
20 years ago: I would’ve obsessed over what I needed to do to look like them. If I could just have their muscles, their confidence, their presence, then maybe I’d feel like I was enough. I’d believe I’d be more likable, more worthy, more capable. But deep down, I’d still feel like I was chasing something I couldn’t catch.
15 years ago: I started to see things differently. I began to appreciate the beauty in how God created us, to see the strength and connection in moments like this. I started to believe that I wasn’t so different from them—that I could belong, too. I wasn’t as closed off or stuck in my head.
Now, at 47, I can welcome a moment like this into my life without holding onto it or letting it define me. I can enjoy the laughter, the anticipation, the beauty of the scene without obsessing over it. I can stand next to my wife, smile at her as our daughter takes the prize, and feel gratitude for the life God has built.
I didn’t need to compare myself to the lifeguards. I didn’t need to stare at their muscles or wonder if I measured up. I could just be there—fully present, fully alive, fully grateful.
What’s one moment this week where you can choose to be fully present, without judgment or comparison? What’s one moment where you can just be?
Have you ever felt like your SSA experiences were running the show—like they had all the power? I want to talk about something that trips so many of us up: the felt experience of unwanted same-sex attraction—a mix of physical sensations, romantic feelings, and thought patterns. But here’s the good news: you don’t have to let those things define you or control your actions. You can observe them, honor them, and respond intentionally.
The felt experience of SSA can feel overwhelming at times. Maybe it’s a physical sensation that catches you off guard. Maybe it’s a romantic feeling that stirs something in your heart. Or maybe it’s a thought pattern that loops in your mind. These things can feel powerful, but I want you to know they are not you. I consider them as experiences that are just passing through.
Physical Sensations
Sometimes SSA shows up as a physical reaction—maybe a flutter in your chest or a pull of attraction. Instead of panicking or judging yourself, try this: pause and name it. Say, “I’m feeling a sensation in my body.” That’s it. No story, no judgment. Just name it. Then, take a deep breath and let it pass. Remember, sensations are just signals—they don’t define you.
Here’s a quick exercise: close your eyes and scan your body from head to toe. Notice any areas of tension or sensation. Breathe into those areas and imagine releasing the tension as you exhale. This helps you stay grounded and reminds you that you’re in control.
Romantic Feelings
Romantic feelings can feel more complex because they touch the heart. But here’s the truth: feelings are just feelings. They don’t have to dictate your actions. When a romantic feeling arises, ask yourself, “What is this feeling trying to tell me?” Maybe it’s a longing for connection or affirmation. Honor that longing, but don’t let it lead you into actions that don’t align with your values.
Instead of focusing on what you can’t have, focus on what you’re grateful for. For example, if you feel drawn to someone, you can appreciate their qualities without attaching a story to it. Say, “I’m grateful for their kindness or their strength,” and then shift your focus back to your own life.
Thought Patterns
Thoughts can be the trickiest because they loop. But here’s the thing: you are not your thoughts. You are the thinker of your thoughts. When a thought arises, treat it like a cloud in the sky—notice it, name it, and let it drift by.
Here’s a tool: when a thought pops up, label it. Say, “That’s a fear thought,” or “That’s a comparison thought.” By labeling it, you create distance between you and the thought. And with distance comes power.
Here’s where the shift happens. Once you’ve observed what’s coming up, you get to choose how to respond. You can acknowledge the sensation or feeling without judgment. You can honor it as part of your human experience. And then, you can ask yourself: “What response aligns with my values? What action reflects the person I want to be?” This is where your power lies—not in controlling what arises, but in choosing how you respond.
The “Pause, Name, Choose” Framework
Here’s a simple framework to practice: Pause, Name, Choose. Pause to notice what’s happening. Name it—whether it’s a sensation, feeling, or thought. And then, choose your response. For example, if you feel a pull of attraction, you might pause, name it as a sensation, and choose to redirect your focus to something productive.
Visualize Your Highest Self
Close your eyes and imagine your highest self—the version of you who is calm, confident, and aligned with your values. Ask yourself, “How would my highest self respond to this moment?” Then, act from that place. This practice helps you stay grounded and intentional.
So, when SSA sensations, feelings, or thoughts come up in the moment, pause. Take a deep breath. Observe them like you would a passing car. Name them without judgment. And then, choose a response that reflects your highest self. You’re stronger than you think, and every time you practice this, you’re building a foundation of strength and self-trust.
Finally, I want you to know that you aren’t defined by how same-sex attractions shows up in your life, you are defined by the One who calls you His.
I’ve spent more time in airports this year than I would like. There’s something about airports that makes me really aware of people, time, and myself. Maybe it’s the in-between-ness of it all. You’re not really anywhere — you’re just on your way.
Waiting in line for security, I spotted a guy emptying his laptop into a bin. He was dressed in nice jeans, a sport coat, and sneakers, and immediately I thought, “He’s probably really connected. Purposeful. Confident.”
Walking to the terminal, a guy walked by in tight-fitting athletic clothes, and I thought, “That guy is so disciplined. He must be super comfortable with his body. I pictured him working out with buddies and going home to his attractive girlfriend.”
At the gate, a dad sat with his arm around his son— he looked tired but present. And I thought, “That guy’s a good dad. Responsible. Caring. Solid.”
Of course, none of those guys had said a word to me. I don’t know them. But I made up these whole stories about them — who they are, what they’re like, and what they must feel.
We all do this. Thankfully, we can make good use of it!
The Mirror Effect: Seeing Through God’s Eyes
What I notice in someone else — what I admire or assign meaning to — often reflects something I either want more of in myself… or think that I lack.
So, maybe I notice the confident guy in the sport coat because I want to be more confident and intentional in how I show up.
Or maybe I assume the athletic guy is disciplined because I want to improve the level of discipline in my body or in my routines.
And maybe that dad reflects the kind of man I see myself as — steady, loving, and consistent.
These assumptions — they’re kind of like little mirrors. They reflect back to us what we value, what we long for, and sometimes, what we’re afraid we’re missing.
But we must remember that as Christians, we’re called to see ourselves and others through God’s eyes. Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” That means the qualities we admire in others — confidence, discipline, love — they’re already part of the good work God is calling us to.
When we spin a story, the question isn’t, “Why don’t I have that?” The question is, “How is God inviting me to grow in this area?”
When we admire something in others, it’s like God is whispering, “This is already in you. I’ve planted this seed—now let’s grow it together.” It’s not about striving to be someone else, it’s about stepping into the fullness of who He’s called you to be.
The Danger of Comparison: A Spiritual Battle
But we have to watch out for comparison. It starts with admiration, but it can quickly spiral into thoughts like:
“Why don’t I look like that?”
“Why can’t I be that kind of man?”
“They’ve got it figured out. I’m still a mess.”
And here’s the thing: comparison isn’t just a thief of joy — it’s a spiritual battle. When we compare ourselves to others, we’re essentially saying, “God, what You’ve given me isn’t enough.” But Scripture reminds us in Psalm 139:14, “I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Comparison blinds us to the unique gifts God has placed in us. It distracts us from the path He’s laid out for us. And if we’re not careful, it can lead to envy, self-doubt, and even resentment.
But what if… instead of letting comparison steal from us, we used it as a tool? What if we let those moments of admiration guide us toward the man God is shaping us to be?
Turning Comparison into Curiosity: Following God’s Lead
We can turn comparison into curiosity. This is where the shift happens. Instead of judging ourselves for not being like the stories we make up, we can use those stories as a kind of roadmap. A way to get curious about what God is calling us toward.
Here’s how:
When you notice yourself admiring someone’s confidence, ask: “What does confidence look like for me as a man of God? How can I trust Him more to show up boldly in my life?”
When you see someone who seems disciplined, ask: “Where is God inviting me to build more discipline in my routines? How can I honor Him with my body and my time?”
When you admire someone’s connection with their son or their friends, ask: “How can I reflect God’s love in my relationships? Where can I be more present and intentional?”
It’s not about becoming the person you see and admire. It’s about using that moment of admiration as a nudge toward something meaningful in your own life — something God is already working on in you.
Practical Tools for Self-Reflection in Faith
Here are a few tools you can use to turn comparison into growth, rooted in your faith:
Pause and Pray: When you catch yourself comparing, ask God, “What are You showing me through this moment? How can I grow closer to You in this area?”
The Admiration Journal: Keep a small notebook or a note on your phone. Every time you catch yourself admiring someone, write it down. Then, reflect on what that admiration reveals about your own values and goals.
Affirmations for Growth: Create affirmations that align with the qualities you’re working toward. For example, “I am becoming more confident every day,” or “I am building discipline in small, consistent ways.” Reflect on 2 Timothy 1:7 which states “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.”
The One-Percent Shift: Ask yourself, “What’s one small step I can take today to embody the quality I admire?” For example, if you admire someone’s discipline, maybe your one-percent shift is committing to a 10-minute workout or setting a bedtime routine.
Reframing the Stories We Tell Ourselves
The stories we make up about other people are just that — stories. We don’t know their full reality. The guy in the sport coat might be confident, or he might be struggling with self-doubt. The athletic guy might be disciplined, or he might be using fitness to escape something deeper.
But the beauty of these stories isn’t whether they’re true. It’s what they reveal about us. They’re like little flashlights, showing us what we long for, what God is growing in us, and what already matters to Him.
So next time you catch yourself comparing, pause. Notice. Ask: ‘What does this reveal about me? What is God inviting me to grow in here?’ And then, take one small step in faith.”
Remember, you’re not here to be someone else. You’re here to become the man God created you to be. And every moment of admiration is an opportunity to take one step closer to that.
Finally, I want you to know that you aren’t defined by the stories your mind spins, you are defined by the One who calls you His. Walk in the story He has created for you.
In my life, I’ve seen other guys do some pretty incredible things. Start new businesses, grow families, and begin movements with worldwide impact. In the meantime, I was just trying to believe I belonged in the world of men. They were far around the bend of the racetrack, and I was barely out of the starting gate, staring at dust clouds.
Their minds may have already been on the finish line, but the moment I stepped forward to enter the race, my mind was flooded with lies. I’ll never measure up. I’m uniquely flawed. I can’t make a difference. I’m broken.
The courage it took them to gallop side by side in a fierce competition to succeed was the same amount it took for me to trot through the dust cloud and peer around the bend. I shamed myself for that.
But what if I celebrated the courage it took me to believe something different about myself, God, and what was possible for my life instead of measuring my courage against their outward achievements. This courage, while initially undetectable by others, caused huge shifts in my soul. That was my race. That’s where I had to start.
So I took inventory of the lies and what required courage:
If I believed I measured up, more would be expected of me. I would fear failing expectations. I should let more qualified men go first. Believing I measured up required courage.
If I believed I wasn’t uniquely flawed, I would have no excuse to fail. I would fear ridicule. I should sit life out. Believing I was perfect in Christ required courage.
If I believed I could make a difference, then people may want to follow me. I would fear letting them down. I should stay on the sidelines. Believing I could make a difference required courage.
If I believed I was a man of courage, I might fear letting go of the lies that kept me safe. I could get hurt. I should forget about all this.
But I was tired of hiding my talents in the sand, letting my life tick by, and living half alive.
So, I chose to believe I am a man of courage.
Then, because that is who I am, I acknowledged my limiting beliefs, chose to replace them, and took small steps in a clear direction towards God’s grand vision for my life.
Have you ever noticed how quickly your mind can turn a simple observation into a full-blown story? You see an attractive guy, and before you know it, your brain is off to the races: He’s better than me. I’m not good enough. I need his approval. I hope he notices me. If I could just have him, maybe I’d feel whole. It’s exhausting. Let’s stop the mental loop.
So here’s the thing—it’s not our observation of an attractive guy that’s the problem. It’s the story we make of it that keeps us stuck.
What if you could stop at the observation? What if you could see someone attractive and simply think, He’s an attractive guy. Period. No spiraling. No comparisons. No need for validation. Just an acknowledgment of beauty, and then… peace. That’s the goal. To separate the observation from the meaning you attach to it. Because the meaning? That’s where the suffering lives.
Why Do We Create These Stories?
So Why does this happen? Why does seeing someone attractive trigger this cascade of thoughts and emotions? For most of us, it comes down to two things: comparison and validation.
We live in a world that constantly pushes us to measure ourselves against others. Social media, advertising, gossip—they can lead us to ask, Am I enough? When you see an attractive guy, your brain might automatically compare their looks, their energy, or their presence to your own. And if you’re not careful, that comparison can lead to feelings of inadequacy.
And from that place, we seek validation. We want to be seen, noticed, and approved of. When you see an attractive guy, your mind might jump to thoughts like, I hope they notice me. I hope they like me. It’s a natural human desire, but it can become a trap if you let it define your sense of self-worth.
The Power of Awareness
The first step to breaking free from these stories is awareness. You can’t change what you don’t notice. So the next time you catch your mind spiraling, pause and ask yourself: What story am I making of this? Be honest. Are you telling yourself that you’re not attractive enough? Not strong enough? That you need their approval to feel worthy? That being with them would somehow complete you? Write it down if you need to. Seeing the story on paper can help you realize how much power you’re giving it. Identify if this story is a pattern for you. Sometimes, a series of thoughts are just a habit that we can decide to let go of.
Now, once you’ve identified the story, challenge it. Ask yourself: Is this true? Is this helpful? Is this kind? Is this the story I want to live by? Most of the time, you’ll find that the answer is no. And that’s your opportunity to rewrite the narrative.
How do you do that?
The good news is: you don’t have to believe every thought that pops into your head. You have the power to choose a new story—one that’s rooted in self-worth and peace. Here’s how:
Acknowledge the Observation: Start with the simple truth. He’s an attractive guy. Period. No need to add anything else. Just let the observation be what it is.
Affirm Your Own Worth: Remind yourself that someone else’s attractiveness doesn’t diminish your own. Say to yourself, I am enough. I have great worth and value. I don’t need anyone else’s approval to feel whole. You could ask yourself how the positive qualities of the person remind you of your own?
Focus on Gratitude: Instead of comparing, shift your focus to gratitude. What do you love about yourself? What are you proud of? What are you enjoying in this moment? Gratitude is a powerful antidote to comparison.
Redirect Your Energy: If you find yourself stuck in a loop of unhelpful thoughts, redirect your energy to something productive or uplifting. Go for a walk, call a friend, or dive into a creative project. Action breaks the cycle.
The Freedom of Letting Go
When you stop attaching meaning to every observation, you create space for freedom. You’re no longer weighed down by comparisons or the need for validation. You’re free to appreciate beauty without letting it control you. And that freedom? It’s life-changing.
Imagine walking through the world with a sense of peace and confidence. Imagine seeing someone attractive and just thinking, Good for him. He’s an attractive guy. Period. No drama. No spiraling. Just peace. That’s the kind of freedom you were designed for.
Here’s the truth: your worth isn’t up for debate. It’s not something that can be taken away or diminished by someone else’s looks, approval, or attention. You are enough, just as you are. And when you truly believe that, you’ll find that the stories you used to tell yourself no longer feel true.
So the next time you see someone attractive, pause. Take a deep breath. And remind yourself: He’s an attractive guy. Period. Nothing more, nothing less.
Finally, I want you to remember that you are not defined by the stories you mind spins. You are defined by the One who calls you His.
Here you are at 11 years old when, for the first time, you are feeling drawn to every part of your friend Mark: his body, personality, mind and soul. You want to be just like Mark. You want him to like you. I get it. You wonder how you will make it through this camping weekend with these strong feelings and confusion.
Yet, you have no idea the things he may be struggling with. Don’t you know him? That his parents are divorced, he’s an only child, and as a member of a small Christian church don’t you think this causes him struggles which he might have no one to share with? He could be hurting just like you.
I want you to remember that God made you exactly as you are and exactly as Mark is. God will put the two of you together again with healthy interactions to show you that what you are really looking for at that moment is to have attention, love, admiration and a bond with another boy that isn’t sexual in nature. A healthy bond that helps you understand your gender role in order to build healthy opposite gender unions.
Don’t get frustrated by the process of same-sex attraction or identification. God made us to have these same gender bonds in order for us to see the differences and complementary nature of the opposite sex. A lack of urges/attractions towards girls like you hear other boys your age talk about doesn’t make you an outsider.
God was watching you and guiding you. He knew that allowing your path to cross with Mark’s that weekend. It was the start of a painful yet powerful step on the journey to become your true self as he designed you to be. Who knows what the future will hold. You may live a life of celibacy or enter a romantic sexually fulfilled life with a woman in marriage. God will guide you and partner with you. It will come. Continue to ask God for His help. You are not alone in this journey.
For too long, the world has told men that gentleness and sensitivity are weaknesses. That to be a “real man,” you have to be tough, stoic, and unyielding. But the truth is: gentleness and sensitivity are not the opposite of strength—they’re the foundation of it. And when you pair them with boldness, you create a masculinity that is not only powerful but deeply human.
Let’s break this down.
Gentleness: The Strength of Restraint
Gentleness is not about being passive or weak. It’s about having the strength to choose kindness over cruelty, patience over anger, and understanding over judgment. It’s the ability to hold space for others, to listen without interrupting, and to respond with care even when you’re under pressure.
Think about it: how much courage does it take to stay calm in the face of conflict? To offer a kind word when you’re frustrated? To meet someone’s pain with compassion instead of defensiveness? That’s real strength. And it’s a strength the world desperately needs more of.
And here’s a promise we can hold onto: in Ezekiel 36:26, God says, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you, I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” That’s the kind of transformation gentleness brings—a softening of the heart that allows us to love and lead with grace.
Sensitivity: The Power of Connection
Sensitivity is often misunderstood as fragility, but in reality, it’s a superpower. It’s what allows you to tune into the emotions of others, to empathize, and to connect on a deeper level. Sensitivity is what makes you a better friend, partner, father, and leader.
When you embrace your sensitivity, you’re saying, “I’m not afraid to feel. I’m not afraid to care.” And that’s bold. In a world that often tells men to shut down their emotions, choosing to stay open is a bold move—and an act of love.
Proverbs 28:14 reminds us, “Blessed is the one who always trembles before God, but whoever hardens their heart falls into trouble.” Sensitivity keeps us from hardening our hearts. It keeps us open to God’s guidance and to the needs of those around us. It’s not weakness—it’s wisdom.
Boldness: The Courage to Be Fully You
Boldness is about stepping into your unique identity and living it unapologetically. It’s about having the courage to be gentle and sensitive in a world that might not always understand or appreciate it. It’s about standing up for what you believe in, even when it’s hard. It’s about being the kind of man who leads with both strength and heart.
Boldness doesn’t mean being loud or aggressive. It means being authentic. It means showing up as your whole self—gentleness, sensitivity, and all—and refusing to let anyone tell you that’s not enough.
2 Timothy 1:7: “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” This verse is a powerful reminder that boldness isn’t about arrogance or recklessness—it’s about stepping into the power, love, and clarity that God has already placed within us.
Redefining Masculinity
When you combine gentleness, sensitivity, and boldness, you create a new kind of masculinity. One that’s not about dominance or control, but about connection and contribution. One that’s not afraid to feel, to care, and to love.
This is the kind of masculinity that changes lives. It’s the kind of masculinity that builds trust, heals wounds, and inspires others to do the same. And it starts with us.
And Jesus is the ultimate example of the masculinity I’m describing—gentle, sensitive, and bold. Think about it: He embodied gentleness when He welcomed children, healed the sick, and forgave those who wronged Him. His sensitivity was evident in how He wept with those who mourned, noticed the outcasts, and connected deeply with people’s pain. And His boldness? It’s unmatched. He stood firm in His mission, spoke truth to those in power, and sacrificed everything for humanity.
What’s so powerful about Jesus is that He didn’t conform to the world’s expectations of strength or dominance. Instead, He redefined what it means to lead and love. Revelation 19:11-15 shows His majesty and authority, but Isaiah 53:2-3 reminds us of His humility and willingness to relate to us as an ordinary man. That’s the kind of masculinity that transforms lives—strength rooted in love, courage fueled by compassion, and leadership defined by service.
A Call to Action
So here’s my challenge to you: Be gentle. Be sensitive. Be bold. Start small. Practice patience in your conversations. Tune into the emotions of the people around you. Speak your heart, even when it’s uncomfortable. And most importantly, give yourself permission to be fully human.
Because the world doesn’t need more men who are tough and closed off. It needs more men who are kind, open, and courageous. Men who are willing to lead with their hearts. Men like you.
I want to leave you with this: you are not defined by limiting views of masculinity. You are defined by the One who calls you His.
In my Own Your Identity coaching course, we identify our longings. While doing this, a participant crafted this prayer to lift to God—a prayer for masculine belonging and gave me permission to share it with you. I pray it will be a blessing and perhaps give words to longings of your own. It did for me.
Jesus,
You see me. You know the ache inside me today—this deep, honest longing for masculine attention, affirmation, and the kind of belonging that speaks to my core.
I long to be seen as strong. As capable. As desirable. As masculine.
I long to be initiated—to be called up and called in by other men who know who they are and can help me become more of who I am.
Not more striving. Not more shame. A brotherhood that speaks identity. That stirs joy. That challenges and heals.
I don’t want to keep walking alone. I don’t want substitutes—churchy noise, polite distance, or people who only see one part of me.
I want brothers. I want men who will go with me into laughter and into sorrow, into risk and into restoration. Men who see me and still stay. Men who want to grow in hearing Your voice too.
God, this longing isn’t a mistake. It’s not too much. Help me to bless it—this holy ache in my chest. Let it draw me closer to You, even as I keep hoping for more connection here on earth.
Show me where to look. Open doors I couldn’t imagine. And as I wait, help me feel Your nearness in the ache itself.
And Lord, let Your voice be the first to name me: Strong. Seen. Desired. Yours.
What brings you to your knees? Is it the weight of your sin—the shame, the regret, the feeling that you’ve fallen too far? Or is it something greater? Could it be the overwhelming presence of a holy and loving God who sees you—not just your sin, but who you truly are in Christ.
What is more powerful—staring at our sin or staring at the face of God?
For many of us, the weight of sin feels unbearable. Maybe you’ve acted on desires you didn’t want, in ways that don’t align with your values. Maybe it was sexting another guy or an anonymous encounter. And now, the shame is crushing. You feel like you’ve failed God, failed yourself, and failed the people who love you.
Sometimes it may feel like all anyone sees is your sin. Maybe you even believe that’s all God sees too. But let me tell you something: That’s a lie. Romans 3:23 says, ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’ That’s all of us. Every single one. But here’s the good news: That verse doesn’t end there. It goes on to say, ‘and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.’
Let your sin humble you, but don’t let it define you. It doesn’t have the final word. God does. And His word is grace.
So what happens when we stop staring at our sin and start staring at the face of God? In Isaiah 6, the prophet Isaiah has this incredible encounter with God. He says, ‘I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne, and the train of his robe filled the temple.’ And in that moment, Isaiah is overwhelmed. He cries out, ‘Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips.’
Isaiah saw his sin, yes. But more importantly, he saw God’s holiness. And here’s the beautiful part: God didn’t leave him in that place of shame. He cleansed him. He called him. He sent him out with a purpose.
That’s what God does. He doesn’t just convict us of our sin—He transforms us. He moves us from shame to surrender, from guilt to grace. And for you, right now, that means lifting your eyes from the weight of your sin to the One who can actually heal you.
Because when God sees your sin, He first sees His child. He sees who you are in Christ. And He’s not here to condemn you—He’s here to heal you.
A Personal Story
Let me share something personal with you. Last year, I did something I wasn’t proud of—something I had never done before. It was crushing. The weight of it felt unbearable. But I knew I couldn’t carry it alone, so I confessed—to my wife, to my community, to my clients, and most importantly, to God. There were three things that truly helped me begin to heal and move forward.
First, a wise and caring counselor gave me a powerful tool. He told me to expect the scene of my sin to replay in my mind—and it did, over and over. But he said, ‘When it does, rewrite it.’ He encouraged that when I picture myself reaching for something lesser, to instead, imagine the hand of Christ taking mine. To picture looking up and seeing His face—not with disappointment, but with love. To see Him leading me by the hand to a place of safety and healing. That image changed everything for me.
Second, when I shared with a friend that I felt like I had a scarlet letter on my chest, he said something I’ll never forget. He looked at me and said, ‘Huh, that’s funny, Jason. All I see is a cross.’ That one sentence reminded me of who I am in Christ—not defined by my sin, but redeemed by His sacrifice.
And third, my friends didn’t pull away from me. They moved toward me. They walked with me. They made sure I didn’t lose myself in my sin, but instead, that I lost myself in God. They helped me see the pain beneath my sin and spoke into it with love and truth. It was beautiful.
Those three things—rewriting the scene, remembering the cross, and walking with others—became lifelines for me. And I want you to know, they can be lifelines for you too.
I also need to tell you I had an unfair advantage: my wife. Her forgiveness and support did what almost nothing else could.
What are You Staring at?
So let me ask you: What are you staring at? Are you fixated on your sin, replaying your mistakes over and over again? Or are you lifting your eyes to the One who can actually heal you? Hebrews 12:2 tells us to ‘fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.’ Why? Because staring at Him changes everything.
I know it’s hard. I know shame can feel like a scarlet letter on your chest. But that’s not how God sees you. When Peter walked on water in Matthew 14, he only started to sink when he took his eyes off Jesus and focused on the storm. And isn’t that what we do? We sink under the weight of our sin because we’re staring at it instead of staring at Him. But when we fix our eyes on Jesus, we find the strength to stand—even in the midst of our brokenness.
I want to challenge you to shift your focus. When you feel the weight of your sin, don’t let it crush you. Instead, let it lead you to the feet of Jesus. Spend time in His Word. Meditate on His promises. Here’s one to start with: 1 John 1:9 says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’
You don’t have to carry the weight of your sin alone. You don’t have to stare at it endlessly. Lift your eyes. Stare at the face of God. And let His holiness, His love, and His grace bring you to your knees—not in shame, but in awe.
When my dad entered the gay lifestyle, he felt relief. He didn’t have to live in the tension of same-sex attraction and a traditional lifestyle. He no longer had to worry if people discovered his attractions. He wasn’t hiding anymore. His fear of missing out was gone. He could express himself fully with people that “got him” and welcomed him. The tension he had lived in was uncomfortable.
But at the end of his life, when his level of discomfort was the greatest it had ever been, he shared that leaving my mom was the worst decision he had made. He wished he had stayed uncomfortable. He wished he had valued his blessings rather than escape discomfort.
My wife, when the idea of motherhood was uncomfortable, closed herself off to it. She decided she wouldn’t have children to ensure she avoided hurting them. But God asked her to stay uncomfortable. To be open to whatever he may bring, trusting that he would provide her with what she needed for whatever role he called her into.
Then, when we were told we couldn’t conceive, she was tempted to turn from God in anger. It was vulnerable to stay open to believing he was good. But she stayed in the discomfort of trusting God because she was convinced He was what was best.
And I wouldn’t have her as a wife if I hadn’t stayed open to marriage despite my fears and insecurities regarding my lack of arousal and interest in women. I had to step beyond my comfort zone to believe it was possible.
It is in the uncomfortable places of life that we grow. Our faith deepens, vulnerability and connection are cultivated, and we get stronger.
When you stay open instead of closing off, you give yourself permission to hope, to dream, to love, to fail, to get hurt, and to rise again. That is the stuff of life. I wouldn’t trade it.
Where is God calling you to lean into discomfort, learn from it, and trust Him in it?
Have you ever noticed how hard you are on yourself? That inner voice can be relentless, can’t it? It tells you you’re not enough, that you’re broken, that you’ll never measure up. But here’s the thing: You don’t have to live with that voice running the show.
What if you started parenting yourself the way a loving parent would? What if, instead of criticism, you offered yourself encouragement? What if, instead of judgment, you gave yourself grace? Imagine saying to yourself, “I see you. I hear you. You’re doing a great job, and I’m proud of you. You’ve got this.”
And here’s the deeper truth: Even when we struggle to speak kindly to ourselves, God is already doing it for us. He’s the perfect parent, the one who sees us fully and loves us completely. In Isaiah 41:10, He says, “Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
And in Zephaniah 3:17, we’re reminded: “The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you, in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” Can you imagine that? God rejoices over you. He delights in you.
This week, I challenge you to try this:
Catch the Critic. Notice when your inner voice turns negative.
Pause and Reframe. Ask yourself, ‘What would a loving parent say to me right now?’
Speak Life. Replace the criticism with encouragement. Say it out loud if you can.
Make space for the perfect Father to speak.
You’re not broken. You’re His. And He’s calling you to see yourself the way He does—with love, patience, and grace.
Fifteen year old Timothy sits on his bed staring at a DM from a guy he doesn’t know. It reads “You’re cute. Can we chat?” Thoughts flood his mind.
Yes, I want to chat. I really do.
I’m tired of fighting these feelings.
Why do I want this so bad?
If my parents only knew the desires I’ve had.
God must hate me.
He remembers his youth minister asking him, “Are you okay?” when Timothy stood in front of him blankly, summoning almost enough courage to share his secret with him. “Yes, I’m fine,” he responded.
He recalls the article he read which interpreted the Bible as embracing homosexuality. He wished he could suspend logic to believe that.
He feels the shame from when the football players announced to the cafeteria he was gay. He wanted to defend himself but words didn’t come.
“It’s just too much,” he says to himself.
Timothy clicks on the guy’s profile picture. His heart beats faster.
****
Timothy, if you are reading this, I want you to know I see you. I’ve been there. And it IS too much. You weren’t designed to handle so many competing voices and feelings.
I have felt lost and powerless much of my life. I was certain that the attention of another man would mean I was okay and that everything was going to be okay. My body seemed to be screaming that.
That voice, those sensations and emotions, can feel so big, but I want you to know you are bigger. You are in charge of your life and you get to decide what and who to listen to.
Your body isn’t seeing the real you. The football players in the cafeteria don’t see the real you. The Christians whose focus is on outward behavior may be overlooking your heart.
These desires won’t always be this intense. You don’t have to run from them or walk towards them. Sit with them without judgment.
Timothy, what gets you excited? If you knew these attractions won’t always be such a burden, what would you hope for? Who do you want to be? I’d love to know. Please don’t let your attractions overshadow the life you truly want to live.
You are not broken. God delights in you. Really. He will take you any way he can get you. He wants to hang out with you. I do too.
I love you Timothy. Let me know what you need. I’m not going anywhere. Reach out anytime.
When I was a kid, my dad loved cycling. He’d suit up in those tight cycling shorts, and one day, he wanted me to wear them too. I didn’t want to—I mean, I was a kid, and those shorts felt embarrassing—but I didn’t know how to say no. So, I put them on and went along with it, hoping we didn’t bike past anyone I knew. Looking back, it wasn’t just about the shorts. It was about this deeper struggle I didn’t even have words for yet: the tension between wanting to please someone I loved and not really knowing how to stand up for what I wanted. It was one of many times I felt the pull of my dad’s expectations versus my own preferences.
The Jean Jacket
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself wanting to dress like the other guys at school. There was this one friend of mine who had the coolest jean jacket. He wore it with this effortless confidence, and I thought, “If I could just get a jacket like that, maybe I’d feel like I belonged.” So, I begged my parents for one, and when I finally got it, I wore it everywhere. But here’s the thing: even with that jacket, I still felt like I wasn’t enough. I remember looking in the mirror, hoping to see someone who fit in, but instead, I just saw a kid trying too hard. That jacket didn’t give me the confidence I thought it would—it just reminded me how far I felt from being truly accepted. I was chasing this idea of belonging, but it always felt just out of reach.
My Son’s Request
A few months ago, my son came up to me with this big grin on his face and said, “Dad, can we wear matching clothes today?” He wasn’t asking me to conform or to be someone I’m not. He wasn’t trying to prove anything. He just wanted to connect. He wanted to say, “You’re like me. I’m like you.” And that hit me, because it wasn’t about approval or fitting in—it was about love. It was about belonging, not through conformity, but through authenticity. I was happy to oblige.
Belonging doesn’t come from changing ourselves to fit in. It comes from embracing who we are and inviting others into that space. Whether it’s with your family, your friends, or men you admire, the most powerful thing you can say is, “You’re like me. I’m like you.” Because when you show up authentically, you give others permission to do the same.
Now, let me ask you: Where in your life are you still trying to fit into someone else’s expectations? What’s one way you can show up more authentically this week? And who in your life could you invite into a deeper connection—not by changing yourself, but by being fully you?
I choose to embrace mystery but am careful to lean into the ones that serve me most.
Last summer, I walked toward the pool at the YMCA and came upon the most attractive man I had ever seen. At least I think he was. I’ll never know.
He had just finished his swim and passed by me heading towards the locker room. He had a strong presence.
A younger me might have followed him to discover if his body really did trump every other man’s and to find out how I measured up against his physique. But the wiser me let him pass by and remain a mystery. The questions that came to mind didn’t need to be answered.
As I continued to the pool, I was glad I could appreciate an attractive man without letting the experience take up too much space in my mind. God makes beautiful people. That’s cool. And I get to enjoy a swim on a sunny day like I had planned.
Keeping an open posture allowed the man to come in and out of my life without derailing my afternoon. I could be inspired rather than obsessed. I didn’t need to know how big his legs were, his percentage of body fat, how symmetrical his profile was, or how I compared. He was as he should be and so was I.
Mystery is a part of life. It’s woven into our experiences, our relationships, and our faith. But how we approach it makes all the difference. Some mysteries are traps—they pull us into obsession, comparison, or fear. Others are invitations—they call us to grow, to trust, and to live more fully alive. In this post, I’ll explore both.
Mysteries to Avoid
That experience is an example of a mystery to let lie. There are mysteries that, if we chase them, can lead us away from who we’re meant to be. These are the questions that don’t serve us, the ones that keep us stuck in cycles of doubt or distraction. For example:
What does that person think of me?
How do I measure up to someone else?
What do the parts of that man I can’t see look like?
What would it be like to live out a fantasy?
Am I missing out by not being in the gay lifestyle?
These questions might feel compelling at the moment, but they rarely lead to peace. Instead, they pull us into overthinking, shame, compromise, or even self-sabotage. When we try to solve these mysteries, we’re not really seeking truth—we’re seeking validation, control, or escape. And that’s not where freedom lives. It takes courage and commitment to let go of the fear of man and fear of missing out.
Take the guy at the pool, for example. I could have followed him, trying to uncover every detail about him and how I measured up. But what would that have accomplished? It wouldn’t have brought me peace. It would have distracted me from my own life, my own purpose.
Instead, I chose to let that mystery remain unsolved. I acknowledged it, appreciated it, and then let it go. Some mysteries are best left as they are, so we can stay focused on what truly matters.
Mysteries to Lean Into
The mysteries that are worth exploring—the ones that invite us to grow, to connect, and to trust—are the mysteries that align with our values and our faith. Consider these:
The mystery of God’s love and grace. We’ll never fully understand it, but we can spend our lives exploring it, experiencing it, and sharing it with others.
The mystery of relationships. Whether it’s with a spouse, a friend, or even ourselves, there’s always more to learn, more to discover, and more ways to grow in love and understanding.
The mystery of our purpose. We might not always know exactly where God is leading us, but we can trust that He’s guiding us toward something good.
Leaning into these doesn’t mean we’ll always have clear answers. It means we’re willing to live with the questions, to trust the process, and to find joy in the journey.
For me, confident guys were always a mystery. I didn’t know how they were comfortable expressing themselves and moving through life with a sense of certainty. Women were commonplace. I was familiar with them, having a sister and no brothers, and was more comfortable around them.
Part of my journey has been owning my identity as a man and becoming open to seeing women as mysterious. When I met my wife, there was something about her I wanted to know more. I got drawn in to who she was and what it could look like for us to be a couple. After 13 years of marriage, I still want to know her more, the good and the bad.
My wife is someone I get to learn more about every day. I don’t have her all figured out—and that’s a good thing. It keeps me curious, engaged, and committed. The same is true of my faith. I’ll never uncover everything about God or the gospel, but I know that leaning into that mystery has brought me more peace and purpose than I could have imagined.
Living with Mystery
Here’s the thing: living with mystery requires faith. Faith that we don’t need to have all the answers to live a meaningful life. Faith that God is in control, even when we don’t understand His plan. Faith that in Christ we are enough, just as we are, without needing to prove ourselves or answer every question that comes our way.
When we embrace mystery in this way, we free ourselves from the need to control everything. We stop chasing validation or certainty, and we start living with openness, curiosity, and trust.
This doesn’t mean we ignore the hard questions or avoid the challenges in our lives. It means we approach them with a sense of wonder and possibility. Instead of asking, “What if my unwanted attractions never go away?” we can ask, “How is this an opportunity to grow?” Instead of asking, “How do I measure up?” we can ask, “How can I show up more as who God created me to be?”
Practical Steps to Embrace Mystery
So how do we start living this way? How do we embrace mystery without getting lost in it? Here are a few practical steps:
Practice Letting Go When you catch yourself obsessing over a question that doesn’t serve you—like what someone thinks of you or what falling into a man’s arms might feel like—pause. Take a deep breath and remind yourself: “I don’t need to have all the answers. God created me on purpose and He loves me as I am. I can seek His direction for my next right action of integrity.”
Cultivate Curiosity Lean into the mysteries that inspire you. Ask questions about your faith, your relationships, and your purpose. Be curious about what God is doing in your life and where He might be leading you.
Live with Intention Instead of reacting to life, choose to live offensively. Start your day by asking: “What’s one thing I can do today to move closer to the person I want to become and the mission God has for me?”
Trust the Process Remember that growth takes time. You don’t have to have it all figured out today. Trust that God is working in your life, even when you can’t see the full picture.
A Challenge
So, here’s my challenge to you: What’s one mystery you can let go of this week? Maybe it’s a fantasy. Maybe it’s the urge to compare yourself to someone else. Whatever it is, let it go. And, what is one mystery you can lean into, that brings you closer to God, to others, and to a future of purpose and possibility?
Because life isn’t about solving every mystery—it’s about living fully in the ones that matter most.
Mystery of the Gospel
Finally, I want to take this opportunity to share plainly the mystery of the gospel.
I believe the Bible is the standard for truth, and it tells us something incredible: that God sent His son, Jesus, to reconcile us to Himself. Our sin created a separation between us and God, but in His love, He sent Jesus to live a perfect life and sacrifice Himself so we could be united with Him again. When we confess Jesus as our Lord and Savior and turn away from our sins, we receive forgiveness, avoid the punishment of sin, and step into eternal life with God. It’s a truth that’s both simple and mysterious—and that’s what makes it so beautiful. If you’ve never placed your trust in Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, I encourage you to reflect on that today. It could be the most important decision of your life.
Also, if you’d like some practical tools to reduce the intensity of unwanted same-sex attractions that can often feel compelling and mysterious, watch the recording of my masterclass about it, at ownyouridentitynow.com/masterclass.
I am creating this post to honor my dad, honor me, and honor our story together. I’ll highlight the impact of abuse, the power of forgiveness, and the sovereignty of God. I am glad to invite you into more of my story. Whether you have been deeply hurt or have hurt others deeply, I want you to know you’re not alone.
Note: This post, which includes mention of sexual abuse and suicide, may trigger strong emotion. If this is you, feel free to reach out to me or someone else to process it. I am grateful to be in a place where I can reflect on my abuser without anger, but if you have been abused, I want to honor wherever you may be in your healing journey. Trust me, I have gotten angry at my dad many times and likely will again. I’ve cried a lot.
***
When I was seven years old, I told my mom, “I hate Dad.” He was a force I could never match. He consistently broke my spirit.
She replied, “You’re not supposed to hate your dad.” That comment stumped me. I thought to myself, “But I do.”
I hated him for coming into my bed at night and using me in ways I didn’t understand.
I hated him for overpowering me with his physical strength.
I hated him for shutting me out emotionally in response to trivial things.
I hated him most for inspiring the lies that I didn’t have a voice, a right to my body, a certainty that someone had my back, or unique value to offer the world.
When I sang a song on a road trip, he sang it louder until my voice drowned out. When I showed excitement for writing, photography, art, computers, math, and more, he communicated “good luck.” When I voiced my discomfort with his sinful touch, he withdrew all affection. When we wrestled, I got squished.
Squished is a good description of what I felt most often with him. I was small. And I was alone.
***
My dad felt the same as a child. His father didn’t know what to do with his oldest son who was sensitive and disinterested in watching the multiple football games playing across two TVs in the living room every Sunday.
On a day my grandfather had tickets to a live game, he heard a scream through the front window. He walked outside to see blood gushing from my dad’s cheek that was ripped open by a branch as he fell from a tree.
“What were you doing?” his father said. “Now we’re going to miss the game.” My dad looked up in pain at the disappointment and anger in his father’s eyes. The anger that was present despite the rip in my dad’s face.
My dad shared that story when I asked where the long scar on his cheek came from. The shameful scar which reminded my dad he was a bother every time he looked in the mirror. He was deficient and wrong.
And if he lacked further evidence of that, he could focus on the story he told himself about his same-sex attractions. They were a part of his life he had to keep hidden. He could never be fully known.
***
He believed he was different. When his dad described the intimate details of the affair he was having, my dad, who was navigating puberty and focused on guys, could not relate. Something must be wrong with him.
When he stood at attention in the navy, he hoped his uniform and stoic face would hide his attractions.
After he felt a genuine call to the ministry and brought his family across the country to Dallas for seminary, he was disappointed when his attractions didn’t diminish as he immersed himself in the study of God’s word.
When he was overwhelmed by the politics he experienced when pastoring a small Baptist church, his secret became his solace. He retreated into his bedroom, shutting out his son, daughter, and wife to decompress with gay porn.
Just as he was puzzled by his dad’s preference for football over time with him, I never understood why my dad locked himself away from me. Whatever was on the other side of the door must have been pretty amazing. More than me.
Over time, my dad’s porn use deepened and he began acting out with guys in person. Eventually, his sins caught up with him.
When I was 14, I watched from the elevated sound booth at the back of the church as my dad tightened his grip on the pulpit to keep his hands from trembling. His voice shook. He cut the sermon short and asked a deacon to close in prayer. Before it ended, my dad was out the church doors, never to return. From a sea of confused faces milling about the foyer, a woman stopped me and said, “There’s something wrong with your dad.” I wanted to defend him but had no clue what to do. Our life would change forever.
***
My sister and I stayed with friends for a week while my parents took a road trip. He wanted to put distance between him and the pain. He tried to explain his attractions to my mom. “It’s like electricity going through my body,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.” He cried in her arms.
He checked himself into a mental hospital and joined a 12-step group. He became open about his struggles and pain. His example would be a gift to me when I had a nervous breakdown at the end of college and was encouraged by him to begin recovery work. I give him credit for that.
My mom stayed by his side. She didn’t know what else to do. I watched her waste away with anxiety, drinking Ensure to intake calories. My sister got her license and was out late each night. My dad’s door began to close again. I was alone.
No longer able to live in the parsonage and unable to afford a house in the same town which had become affluent over the years, we moved into an apartment in the city. I entered ninth grade knowing no one.
I was a shell walking into the windowless school. I put on my protective smile and ensured my hair was in place. It landed me a spot at the popular table at lunch. But I sat with nothing to say, amazed at the carefree spirits of the other students. The guys who exuded confidence especially intrigued me. How was that possible? I didn’t last at that table a week.
Guys became a mystery to me as they had to my dad. When I neared high school graduation and a classmate said he wanted to kiss me, I felt the same electricity my dad had described.
***
Throughout college, my dad and I had an off and on relationship. Afterward, as I came to grips with the abuse I experienced and received support, I decided I wanted to actively work to deepen and restore our relationship. I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. But the abuse was a wall. A big wall we never discussed.
In a support group for male survivors of abuse, I had an opportunity to role play confronting my dad. I received strength and care from the group and made plans to meet my dad at a park.
I waited with trepidation until we stood face to face. Then, I shared everything I could remember with him in detail. I shared how I felt and how I believed it impacted my beliefs about myself, God, and how I showed up in the world. He owned it all, was sorrowful, and shared other examples of neglect he was sorry for. That was a big step for both of us. Afterward, we connected more often. While I still kept it surface level, I enjoyed a more relaxed relationship.
***
Several months later, he called to get my opinion on something. He said, “Jason, I’d like to hang out with gay people. I want to express that side of myself.” I was caught off guard and asked him to tell me more. He felt something was missing from his life. He wanted to let his guard down and just be himself.
He and I were both navigating our same-sex attractions. I wanted marriage with a woman but wasn’t sure how it would be possible due to my lack of arousal. He had a marriage that didn’t satisfy him. During that year, I joined a support group for guys who desired to live according to values and goals that weren’t in line with their same-sex attractions. My parents ended their marriage of 36 years to allow my dad to live a gay lifestyle.
I grieved the loss of my family as I had always known it, as imperfect as it was. I expressed my hurt to my dad. I told him I loved him but I also told him I felt abandoned. I needed to say that to keep a wall from being built in my heart.
My dad entered the lifestyle and was happy. He told me he felt closer to God than he ever had. He could breathe. But the euphoria was short-lived. He withdrew and turned away from the faith. “How could a god who made me this way condemn me for it,” he said.
***
Soon, he went dark. He bought an RV and lived with his partner at various campsites and parks in the area. He changed his phone number and email. He vanished from social media. We had no way to contact him. I would see the back of him at the mall but realize once he turned that it wasn’t him. I questioned whether it would hurt less if he was dead. At least then I’d know his disappearance wasn’t a choice.
Three months before he died at the age of 69 he reached out to me. He was hurting. Panic attacks were frequent. He apologized for breaking contact and wanted to talk with me every day. He came to the house to visit my wife and daughter and didn’t rush off. He shared his renewed belief in Christ.
He invited me to spend the day at Six Flags amusement park with him. That was our safe place together as a family growing up. He was always happy there and we were too.
We carpooled from my house. Because he was a big man, I assumed we would drive in his truck. He opted to fit himself into my 2-door sports car. He was glad to let me take the wheel.
We enjoyed walking the park. We rode side by side in the old-time cars. We shared a funnel cake, our favorite.
But while we latched into the seats of the Titan roller coaster, bracing for the steepest drop in the park, he felt a sharp pain in his jaw. He had recently drained some of his limited savings having work done on it. His mind went to the unknown depth of expense which may be incurred again. His mood changed.
He was somber as we waited in line for another ride. He said something unexpected.
“Jason, leaving your mom was the worst decision I’ve made in my life,” he said.
I didn’t know what to say except “I’m sorry.” I gave him a big hug. “That’s got to be so hard dad.”
***
Over the next two weeks his panic attacks increased. He shared concerns over money. His boyfriend, Chan, and I sat across from him in their tiny living room and assured him we would take care of him. He shook his head.
Days later, I got a call from his neighbor. “Jason, you need to go to the hospital.”
When I arrived, I learned he was sedated in an operating room as they stitched his neck and wrists. They placed charcoal in his stomach to counteract the bottle of Wellbutrin he had ingested.
He never came to.
***
We went with his boyfriend and gathered some of his belongings. We opened cupboards filled with porn. Apparently, it was still a solace.
His partner shared the details of his final day of life. Something was off with the way my dad said goodbye that morning, lingering in the doorway as Chan left for work. He cut his workday short and returned home.
My dad was surprised to see him. Standing with a red knife in his hand, he said, “I have to die. I’ll be broke in a month.” “That’s not true,” Chan said before running next door to get their neighbor. We had wanted dad to believe he wasn’t alone. That we had his back. But he didn’t believe us. Or he believed he didn’t deserve our help. He had hurt a lot of people. Who knows.
***
My dad did hurt people. But so have I. My dad reached for lesser things. So have I. My dad remembered that Christ reaches for us and is the only one who can make us whole. That is true for all of us.
I miss him. I missed him being here when my son was born, when I started my coaching business, and when I’ve taken my family to Six Flags. I want my messy dad back into my messy life.
Whether you have been deeply hurt or have hurt others deeply, I want you to know you’re not alone.
Thank you for honoring me and my dad by reading our story.
Images of guys still draw my attention. I recently typed “man lying in bed” into Adobe iStock to find a blog feature photo, expecting the results to be PG. Suggestive imagery was scattered in the results. I wanted to linger but closed the browser.
I was bummed that I was drawn to the men on the screen but chose to get curious instead of discouraged. Why was staring so appealing? I walked myself through the mindfulness process we practice in my coaching course. It provides greater awareness of the physical sensations, emotions, and thoughts that arise in an instant. Pulling them apart to view them productively empowers me to take intentional action.
When the images popped up, my heart rate quickened and my shoulders tightened. I recognized excitement, anticipation, and fear. The intensity was a nice change of pace from my lonely evening. I also felt sadness and a nostalgic warmth in my chest.
Noting my experience reminded me that my emotions and thoughts are not who I am. I am the one who observes them and gets to decide what intentional thoughts and emotions I want to generate.
When considering my thoughts, I knew my emotional reactions which the thoughts inspired weren’t in response to the images themselves but to the story I was telling myself about them. That story manifested as statements and questions which flashed across the screen of my mind.
I observed my initial thoughts without judging either them or myself.
Some automatic thoughts included:
“These guys are hot.”
“They are warm and inviting.”
“I want their muscles and smooth skin.”
“They want me.”
“If I looked like that, what would I feel?”
“What do the parts of their body I don’t see look like?”
“I miss looking at naked guys.”
“I’m scared I’m going to linger lustfully.”
“This is annoying.”
When I looked at that list, I considered beliefs which may have influenced the thoughts.I recognized my lingering belief that the images had much to offer me, such as comfort, confidence, acceptance, and aliveness.
Then, I took control.
I talked to myself, rather than listened to myself. I chose these thoughts:
“I have better things to do with my time than scroll these images.”
“They don’t have anything to offer me.”
“What my mind and body want me to do is give myself over to the guys on the screen. I belong to God, my wife, and myself.”
“While these guys are mysterious to me, I’m okay with some mystery. I don’t have to let curiosity rule.”
“I don’t mind that I find guys attractive. No big deal. That doesn’t need to get in the way of the life I want to live.”
To help activate and empower those thoughts, I personified my unwanted attraction and was loving towards it, while asserting my will. I said, “Attraction, thank you for your input. I can see you are trying to help me out, showing me a way you believe I can receive comfort and aliveness. You’re right, I do admire guys – their presence, appearance, and confidence. But what you are offering is not good enough for me. I’ve got big dreams and strong values that require different actions. Your voice is loud right now, but it doesn’t mean it is best. I’ll need you to stand down. I care about you, but I need some space.”
Those new thoughts inspired empowering emotions. Instead of excitement and fear, I felt love and peace. My heart rate slowed and my shoulders softened. I breathed deeper.
As a result, I was inspired to write this to share with you, thank God for his many blessings, text my wife, and message friends. When compared to staring at pixels on my computer screen, those actions felt expansive. I was reminded how much I love my life.
Have you felt excitement, anticipation, and fear when presented with an unhealthy choice? Are you able to consider your thoughts and emotions without judging them, empowering you to take intentional action? Take time to get curious. You are wroth it.
Ken Williams, co-founder of Changed Movement, said, “You’ll never experience unconditional love until you first share your condition.”
Here is what that means to me:
When we are honest with God about our sin and grief, our felt experience of his unconditional love deepens. When we share our pain with others, we invite their healing embrace.
For much of my life, I’ve viewed my condition as either a good guy who occasionally does bad things or a broken man who deserves to be punished. Both compel me to hide. And both stress me out.
And I miss out.
Here’s the truth: I have a heart that is sick with sin. The more I acknowledge the depth of my sin, the greater my appreciation for God’s love for me as his adopted son. I allow myself to feel the depth of my sin because I want to feel greater depths of his love and peace.
I don’t want to convince myself that my heart is just a little sick with sin. I’ll share honestly that I’ve objectified men and used them for my selfish gratification, lashed out in anger, told myself I’m worthless, lied straight-faced, and judged others for doing the same.
But I can speak to God the words Chris Tomlin beautifully penned: “You see the depths of my heart and you love me the same.”
And I can listen for His response:
“Jason, I have examined your heart and know everything about you. I discern your thoughts from afar. I am acquainted with all your ways. Trust me, there is nowhere you can go to hide from my love. Come to me in your weariness and I will provide rest for your soul.”
That is what my heart longs to hear.
Is there a greater depth of God’s love you’d like to feel? Confess sin you’ve been holding back to him. Would you like to invite the embrace of others? Take a redemptive risk and share your true condition with them.
My wife and kids were out of the house and I had gone to bed early. It had been a long day. As I laid my head on the pillow an image came to mind. A strong, attractive man, half dressed, was leaning back in a chair facing me. I felt he was inviting me towards him.
“Argh,” I thought. “I just want to go to sleep. Now I’m gonna have to fight off this image.”
But I decided I wasn’t going to let that image determine my night. I considered how I might counsel a client and a question came to mind: “How is this man like me?”
He was strong. Me too. I recalled the strength it took to share my SSA and abuse story on the internet and the impact that act of courage has had. What a gift.
He was attractive. Me too. I care for my body, walk with confidence, and bring positive energy to the room. I’m a good steward of the talents and identity God has given me.
He was inviting. So am I. I invite men to share their stories with me – their pain, challenges, and dreams. It’s a blessing.
I looked back on my day. I saw that I had not felt strong, attractive, or inviting. I reflected on what was true about me.
This annoying man who showed up in my mind became a reminder to me of my character, intention, and identity. I was grateful. I let out a healing sigh and fell asleep.
We get to decide what things mean. I had labeled this man as an annoyance. God used him as a blessing.
With the helicopter blades still whirring, the President walked out, hand on his head, to give me the best news.
“I’ve come to invite you to join me for an award ceremony in your honor,” he said loudly.
I pointed to my chest. “Me?” My mouth hung open.
He beamed yes. The blades quieted. He knelt to get on my level and explained that my stellar lawn mowing skills had been noticed and were cause for recognition. He looked to the large field I had finished trimming and waved his hand across it as evidence.
Man that felt good.
I can recall that day and see me paused alone in the field visualizing my fantasy. My parents were occupied in the house unaware of the honor I was being bestowed.
I was a boy with a big imagination, great mowing skills, and a deep desire to be seen. If the President said I was valuable, I would no longer doubt it.
I suspect I’m alone in my specific fantasy (if I’m not, please let me know!), but I know I’m in good company with others who want to be noticed, acknowledged, and celebrated. It is an innate longing.
Curt Thompson, Author of The Soul of Shame, said, “We all are born into the world looking for someone looking for us, and we remain in this mode of searching for the rest of our lives.”
Why did God create us this way?
I believe it is so we will seek his face, and upon finding it, hold his gaze.
Fortunately, God loves looking at us and rejoices over us. Zepheniah 3:17b says, “He will exult over you with loud singing.” How crazy is that?! I’ll have to take His word for it.
The next time you scan the room for someone looking back at you, whether a boss with a nod of approval, a loved one with an expression of care, or another guy with a look of longing, enjoy the certainty that God sees you, delights in you, and invites you into his presence without fail.
And if you run into the President, tell him hi for me. 😉
As a young teenager, I presented my upper lip proudly to my dad. Black hairs had sprouted.
“Dad, I’m getting a mustache,” I said.
He turned to face me. Without moving closer, my dad declared, “It’s just peach fuzz.”
What? Not true. “It’s the start of a mustache, Dad.”
I held my breath for his response.
“No, it’s peach fuzz,” he said again, closing the conversation. He turned to resume whatever was more important to him besides me.
My chest deflated.
I retreated to the bathroom mirror. My few black hairs were certainly there, but apparently didn’t count. My masculinity was subpar.
That memory got filed away. As I recall it now, my shoulders slump and my chest tightens.
I have allowed events and resulting beliefs such as that to hold me back from showing up fully in life. To make the most of this life God has entrusted me with, I now use them to my advantage. I want my past to fuel my journey rather than drain my energy and enthusiasm.
But recalling and writing about the “peach fuzz” interaction just pissed me off. This article I planned to post last week got delayed because I was stumped on what good could come from the exchange with my father so long ago.
I was angry and sad. I decided to let those emotions put my optimism on pause. I took the weekend to acknowledge, accept, and honor those feelings. Returning to complete this article I find that sitting in those uncomfortable feelings has given me a jumpstart on formulating the following list of opportunities. I hope it will benefit you.
How can we let our past work for us rather than against us? Here are some ways:
Step into our power
In recalling this event, I felt anger. I leaned into it. My dad was irresponsible with my heart. I was worth more of his time and care. His words hurt me. The lies Satan offered me in that vulnerable state handicapped me. Enough! It’s my life and I am taking it back.
Increase certainty
My dad’s words confused me. I was told the evidence I saw in the mirror of my masculinity didn’t exist. I know that exiting confusion and living from the truth requires confidence and courage. In doing so, I am forced to take greater ownership of my identity. That’s a good thing.
Grieve
Grief can be scary. But I’ve become acquainted with it enough to know it leads to strength, joy, and peace. I let myself feel sad. I allowed my preferred version of the scene to enter my mind. I grieved its absence. I shared my grief with others. My spirit is more settled and hopeful.
Encounter Jesus
I can rewrite the scene and include Christ as the protagonist. I picture him standing behind me as my dad dismisses me. When I turn from my dad, Jesus’ presence stops me in my tracks. He bends until eye level with me, and says, “Yep, that’s gonna be a good ‘stache.” I fall into Him.
Connect
While leading a group coaching call this week, I shared this “peach fuzz” story. The men empathized with me and shared similar stories. I was seen and affirmed and had the opportunity to do the same for them.
Forgive
I get to forgive my dad. Not as a requirement, but as an opportunity, and without a timeline. I don’t need to rush it. As an adult, I wanted to forgive my dad for his acts of abandonment and asked God to do it in me. Weeks later, I woke up with the thought, “I wonder how my dad is doing today.” I took that as evidence of God’s work of forgiveness in my heart. I felt peace and joy. It’s a process, but that morning was a milestone.
Love myself
Younger Jason in that scene is still with me. He desires to be seen, acknowledged, and affirmed. I get to do that. I can ask Younger Jason to share the excitement he felt when noticing the change in his face as well as his disappointment with his dad’s response. I can say to him, “Tell me more.” I can stand behind him as he studies his reflection, hands on his shoulders, and tell him he’s got what it takes.
There are many experiences in life I could do without. While I can’t change the past, I can use it. It takes work, but you are worth it.
Have you felt stuck by a past experience, allowing it to dictate your actions and tell you what’s possible? How can you use it to your advantage?
This question began a conversation which played on repeat in my head. It started when I walked into the gym, the boardroom, or the sanctuary. I silently asked it of my coach, boss, and pastor.
I couldn’t shake it.
It formed in my mind when someone spotted me on the bench press, as I shared a design concept to my team, and each time I considered voicing my same-sex attractions.
It stuck because it was more than a question. It was a declaration. Each time I asked it, I was actively telling myself I was inadequate, inferior, and unqualified. Those lies embedded deeper.
These three actions took the power out of it. Now, it rarely surfaces.
I decided to believe that what God says about me is true.
I let the question arise without attaching to it.
I chose different questions.
God made me. What he makes is very good. He has given me all I need for life and godliness. His strength is made perfect in my weakness.
I choose to believe those truths before walking into a room. I’ll bring them to mind, knowing they won’t always feel true. I’ll observe contradictory thoughts and questions and let them hang out without pushing them aside, while aligning my posture and intention with the truth.
And while I can’t always help the automatic questions that pop into my head, I can choose to silently ask different ones. I like these:
“You’re for me, aren’t you?”
“How can we succeed together? What can we create?”
“What are you needing right now?”
Finally, if none of that works, I’ll let the pesky question trigger me to turn to God and direct the question to him. I’ll get a resounding “No.” Whether it feels true or not, I’ll have seen His face and heard his voice.
Taking these actions will be a gift to others. They will enjoy the certainty I’ll bring to the room rather than an air of self-doubt. I’ll be primed to assure them of their worth and give them permission to set aside that common question. I’ll be open to the blessings they want to give me, not cheating them the opportunity.
Can you relate? What question do you want to ask instead of that automatic one?
“It’s that jacket you always wear,” my classmate replied.
Huh. My jacket.
My faux leather jacket I thought made me so cool was apparently a dead giveaway about my sexual inclinations and a determiner of my orientation. What a powerful piece of my wardrobe!
I don’t remember the rest of that interaction from college, but I didn’t leave it feeling empowered. I definitely wasn’t encouraged to take ownership of my identity. My favorite jacket became a straitjacket.
The name for my coaching business, Own Your Identity, has two meanings.The first and deepest meaning is to own who we are in Christ. To internalize it and request God’s power to live out of it. That is the foundation for growth and flourishing.
The second meaning is to own our sexual identity.
The truth is, other people, my feelings, and my wardrobe don’t get to tell me I’m gay, what orientation to identify with, or whether I should live out of my attractions to men. I decide whether to take on labels and what actions to take.
I used to let those outside voices bother me, but now I let them empower me.
I can appreciate my other well-meaning classmates who told me I was gay and recommended I accept it, because I see their desire for me to be whole and at peace when I was clearly troubled. I can be grateful for their care and concern while allowing the interaction to remind me to seek wholeness in Christ and provide an opportunity to clarify my values.
A culture which celebrates a multitude of sexual expressions can remind me to celebrate the truth of who I am in Christ, and how he designed my body to work and my life to flourish.
I can empathize with people who are uncomfortable with the unknown, want things tied neatly in bows, and don’t know what to do with someone who has attractions to guys but truly desires something else. I can choose to be comfortable being uncomfortable and enjoy practicing the faith required to not settle for a quick solution.
In response to the narrative that a life of misery is the fate of men who have attractions to guys but don’t embrace a gay identity, I can take peace knowing that as I give myself permission to make my own decisions, stay open to all possibilities, and walk courageously the road I am inspired to take, even if it feels uneasy, I am telling myself that I am strong and courageous and my future is not yet written. That brings life. And heck, I can change my mind whenever I want.
The arousal in my body and romantic feelings I’ve experienced towards other guys can beinformation rather than a declaration. I decide what to do with them. I’ve got options: I can act in alignment with my automatic attractions, I can let them hang out while I go about my day, or I can get curious about them, considering they may have a message for me, and invite God into the conversation and seek the counsel of others.
I can also acknowledge times I acted opposite of my values, but those actions don’t get to tell me what is true about me either and they don’t need to determine my next actions.
On a lighter note, I can enjoy being sharply dressed, knowing that I alone get to own my identity!
And better than any jacket, I can allow myself to be wrapped in God’s confident embrace. The one who breathed life into me and whose name all creation whispers.
All my life, I’ve admired men who exhibit this quality: a confident sense of purpose.
It was a mystery to me how someone could show up fully present, comfortable in their own skin, clear on who they are, focused on a purpose, and not shy to express it.
I aspired to be steady, certain, and confident. What I knew was doubt, worry, and timidity.
When I looked at men who exhibited the qualities I aspired to, this is what I saw:
The opposite of me.
Their presence reminded me of what I believed I lacked.
I allowed admiration to trigger self-doubt. A disempowering cycle developed: Self-doubt fueled my hunger for approval. This heightened my focus on the men I admired, triggering more self-doubt, on repeat.
I was stuck.
It wasn’t my admiration that was the problem – it was what I allowed the object of my admiration to mean about me. Their steadiness told me I was unsure. Their certainty told me I doubted. Their confidence told me I lacked it.
In time, I learned to let the men I was attracted to remind me of my own strength, certainty, and purpose. When I see a man who appears to have a confident sense of purpose, I now say “I’m like him. And because I am a man of strength and purpose in Christ, I choose to grow.” I let other men be an inspiration to build upon my positive qualities rather than tear myself down.
When you see someone you admire, what do you say to yourself?
If you say, “I don’t measure up. I’m not like them,” try switching it for, “They inspire me to be better. How can I grow?”
The fact that I was created to make a unique mark in the world didn’t feel true.
Between you and me, one of my favorite songs features female vocals by a fox dressed in a green alien costume jumping on a trampoline. There. I said it.
I give the credit to my daughters who played Sing 2 on repeat.
The best part is the lyrics. They align with my desire to live each day to the fullest.
Don’t wanna live as an untold story
Rather go out in a blaze of glory
I wanna taste love and pain
Wanna feel pride and shame
I don’t wanna take my time
Don’t wanna waste one line
I wanna live better days
Never look back and say
It could have been me
I want to leave a legacy. I want to take steps with a confident sense of purpose towards a compelling future, and I want to feel each day along the way.
I used to believe that was a life I wasn’t qualified to live.
If I was truly authentic, people would be worse off because my brokenness would be known. If I loosened my composure, feminine mannerisms may be exposed and I could be judged as gay. If I acted like I had something unique to offer, others might have ready reasons to object.
Most of all, living fully and authentically just felt wrong. When I tried it, my mind and body reminded me with negative thoughts, heavy shoulders, a tight chest and shallow breathing that I was best in a supporting role with easy access to off-stage.
Now, the truth that I have unique purposes and am complete in Christ through his saving work on the cross isn’t just head knowledge. It is integrated into my being.
How did God bring me here?
My journey included a decision, followed by curiosity, vulnerability, and courage.
Before it felt true, I decided to believe that what God said about me was true.
Then, when my thoughts and feelings objected to living in alignment with truth, I got curious as to why. What was I afraid of? What was the lie I was believing? Where had the lie originated? I checked the evidence and most often found it lacking.
I vulnerably shared my insights with trusted friends and mentors. They grieved with me for the boy who was handed the lie “I am an observer,” as he was picked last in PE and sat on the bench. They saw my younger self who struggled against his father’s strength begin to believe, “I don’t have what it takes.” I borrowed their courage and felt their love when they said “me too” and “it’s going to be okay.”
Then, I took more redemptive risks. I let go of my limiting stories of the past and vividly imagined the future I felt God calling me to and allowed myself to feel the emotion of it. I aligned my current actions with the version of myself I envisioned in that future scene. And I realized I was that person all along.
Eventually, as I consistently lived aligned with the truth, my mind and body began getting on board. That has made life easier and allows me to focus my energy on living the life of impact and service God has for me.
And I choose to love it all. The joy, the grief, the shame, the tears, the hope, and the triumph. And I invite you to as well.
As a bonus, I’ll set an example of being courageously authentic by letting you know I don’t just love the lyrics to the song “It Could Have Been Me,” I love the video too. 🙂
Here is the link. Beware of the tap dancing furballs in the background. They are creepy.
