Brothers,
Let’s talk about what it means to be a man, shall we? Not what it means to play at being a man, but to be one. Because from where I’m standing, a lot of you are failing the test miserably, and the worst part is, you don’t even see it.
You worship at the feet of a man who represents everything weak, everything hollow, and everything pathetic about the twisted caricature of masculinity you’ve been sold. Donald Trump is no man. He’s a bloated, pampered caricature, a gold-plated coward who’s never lifted a hand for anyone but himself. And yet, you call him your champion. Your leader. Your king.
Do you even hear yourselves?
You, who claim to honor the hard-working men who built this country. You, who claim to follow a carpenter who stood up to the mightiest empire of His time armed with nothing but the truth. You, who brag about your independence and strength, now grovel before a draft-dodging conman who wouldn’t last five minutes doing an honest day’s work.
And for what? Because he lets you vent your hatred? Because he tells you that all your failures and frustrations are someone else’s fault? Because he makes it easy for you to pretend your anger is righteous when it’s really just fear?
Fear of a world where you aren’t in charge. Fear of a world where you might actually have to listen to someone else’s pain. Fear of a world where being a man isn’t about dominance, but service.
Let me remind you of something: real men don’t follow weak men. Real men don’t stand in the shadow of cowards and call it strength. Real men don’t need a villain to feel like heroes.
Real men build. Real men protect. Real men stand as shields between the vulnerable and those who would harm them. That’s what Jesus did. That’s what every great man who’s ever walked this earth has done.
What have you done?
You’ve thrown your lot in with a man who mocks the weak, exploits the poor, and treats women like disposable toys. You’ve traded the Gospel of love for the gospel of might-makes-right. You’ve sold out your faith, and for what? Cheap slogans and empty promises from a man who wouldn’t cross the street to spit on you if you were on fire.
Do you even recognize the face you see in the mirror anymore?
Jesus didn’t call you to be a brute. He didn’t call you to be a bully. He didn’t call you to stand in the crowd and cheer while the powerful crush the powerless. He called you to be a servant, a protector, a man. And if you think that bending the knee to a man like Trump makes you strong, you’ve missed the point entirely.
You should be ashamed. Ashamed of the lies you’ve believed. Ashamed of the people you’ve hurt in your desperate scramble to feel like you’re still in control. Ashamed of the fact that you’ve let a man like Trump, weak, small, cowardly Trump, become your idol.
But shame isn’t the end of the road. It’s the beginning.
Prove me wrong. Prove that you’re more than just another puppet in the hands of a fake strongman. Prove that you’re not just Trump’s bitch. Show the world what a real man looks like: someone who stands for what’s right, even when it’s hard. Someone who protects the vulnerable, even when it costs him. Someone who doesn’t need to crush others to feel strong.
Jesus isn’t asking you to be perfect. But He is asking you to be better. To rise above the lies, the hate, and the fear. To stop hiding behind the false strength of men like Trump and start living out the real strength of the Gospel.
The choice is yours. Be the man Jesus called you to be, or keep bowing to a coward and calling it strength.
Yours in truth,
R.L. Lawrence