Chills went down my spine as I stared at the ceiling in the pitch black. It was the middle of the night and I heard the rustling near our bedroom door. I desperately wanted to leap up and investigate, but I remained motionless. All I could do was listen intently with countless thoughts racing through my mind.

Had someone broken in? Should I wake Stephanie up? Were we in danger? How could I protect her without even being able to do anything more than glance in the direction of the noise?

Moments later my concern was eradicated as Stephanie emerged with a glass of water in hand. Apparently what I saw when glancing at her side of the bed was just a pillow. I exhaled and laughed, but couldn’t shake the helplessness I had felt as my insecurity in my own masculinity skyrocketed.

The biggest area that I have found myself consistently wrestling with in terms of my masculinity has been my inability to physically protect anyone, let alone defend myself. How am I possibly able to do this with legs that cannot run, jump, or kick? How can I legitimately protect anyone with arms that cannot hold, push, or punch? What am I supposed to do in public in the case of an imminent threat to my wife? I had to swallow the reality that the only one that would be doing any protecting was the person I was with.

“I am a 30-year-old male, and my wife is my bodyguard.” That sure sounds manly.

For the longest time I bought into the illusion that I was unable to be a protector because of my physical limitations. However, as I was questioning my qualifications, the obvious reality set in that while I can’t physically protect others around me, a situation has never actually come up in which I have had to. The more I thought about it, I realized that situation never arose before I got hurt either. In terms of the protection of others, I’m realizing a musclebound physique is not a prerequisite for manhood.

Instead, I can look to the example of Jesus, the ultimate God-Man. He wasn’t a sissy who pet sheep in the field all day, he was a man who stood up for the truth that he came to tell even when it meant he would get murdered for it. This manliness also extended into being a protector, and yet he never had to resort to physical action to protect women. He wasn’t beating up guys in alleys and he still managed to perfect the protection of women. His good friends like Mary and Martha, along with the prostitutes he befriended, could count on him to talk to them and listen to them and they trusted that he didn’t have an agenda that included using them for his physical desires.

Reflecting on this and seeing Jesus’s example is an encouraging reminder and confidence booster that my manhood is not defined by whether or not I can be an imposing physical presence ready to fight at a moment’s notice. I can’t hold the door open, but I can be intentional about encouraging my wife. I can’t bench press 300 pounds anymore (I guess I could never do that), but I can be a listening ear. I can’t plant my fist in a predator’s jugular, but I can be a safe place for Stephanie to talk, feel cared for, and feel protected in a way that a physical presence never could. Most importantly, no matter the limitations, I can still pray with and for my wife.

It may not play out exactly how I had envisioned it, but I want to keep striving to be the best man I can. These last few years have caused me to pause and reconsider where my identity as a man is coming from. Through this I am reminded that as long as I’m following the example of Jesus I can be confident that I have what it takes just the way I am.

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I had the opportunity to share more about this at a local church during a series entitled “The New Man” in the video below:

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