When Did Being A Jerk Become a Christian Virtue?

There we were, many years ago, sitting in a living room when one of the fathers present decided to demonstrate his ability to lead his family. He apparently felt the need to establish the chain of command, brick by brick, making sure everyone understood who was in charge. Then, from the comfort of his chair, he announced to his daughter that he wanted a drink.

She was in another room, chatting with family members. She simply replied, "Okay poppa..."

Then, without making a fuss, she got up, fetched his beverage, and brought it to him. He sat there with a huge grin on his face, looking rather pleased with the whole arrangement.

My reaction? Utter horror.

I remember thinking, Is this what we're calling leadership now? A grown man gets to sit in his chair while his daughter fetches his drink, and apparently we're all supposed to admire his command presence?

Please, somebody get this man a throne. Maybe a velvet robe. At this point, we're only one servant away from a medieval kingdom.

I don't remember every detail of that moment, but I remember what it made me think about the way some men understand leadership. When did leading become synonymous with making sure everyone knows who's in charge?

Now, hang with me for a moment. That memory has come back to me as I've watched a growing cultural fascination with men who aren't afraid to say hard things. And, as I've noticed lately, if you want to say hard things in today's culture, you apparently need a beard. (I jest.)

There's something appealing about a man who is willing to speak his mind. I get it, we live in a culture where people sometimes seem more concerned with avoiding offense than standing for truth and we DO need men with convictions. Men who aren't afraid to stand by what they believe, even when doing so comes at a cost.

But here's where I think we need to be careful: there's a difference between having the courage to speak the truth and believing that being harsh is somehow proof of your courage. One requires conviction. The other can simply become an excuse for being unkind.

Over the past year, I've found myself thinking more about the difference between someone who is willing to speak the truth, even when it's uncomfortable, and someone who simply enjoys saying uncomfortable things. Those aren't necessarily the same person.

Remember, this isn’t just a cultural observation for me.

As a kid, I watched what happened when men used their convictions as justification for treating people poorly. What was sometimes presented as spiritual leadership nearly crossed the line into spiritual abuse. I watched wives and daughters being treated with disrespect, with the language of authority sometimes used to excuse behavior that should never have been defended. (Not with my own dad, he was always a picture of leading with humility and quietly serving and being faithful with no desire for applause.)

Here's the takeway: We can speak hard truths without becoming hard people.

The Bible gives us a word that I think is often misunderstood: meekness. It sounds weak to our modern ears, but biblical meekness isn’t cowardice or an inability to stand up for yourself. It’s strength under control, strength submitted to God rather than governed by our own impulses.

Look at Jesus. He confronted religious hypocrisy and spoke plainly about sin. He didn’t avoid difficult conversations because someone might be offended. Yet He never needed to prove His authority by making people feel small (unless they claimed to be “religious”.)

The fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5 includes kindness, gentleness, and self-control. Those aren’t optional extras, they’re evidence of the Spirit’s work in every Christian’s life.

In fact, VOLUME isn’t a spiritual gift. Neither is the ability to make a room uncomfortable. And being the person willing to say what nobody else will say doesn’t automatically mean you’ve said it in a godly way or even that you’re being godly.

Look, I understand the frustration behind much of the pushback against what people perceive as the feminization of our culture. Men should be courageous. We should take responsibility for our families and stand firmly on the truth of God’s Word. But the answer to one cultural extreme isn’t to embrace another. God hasn’t called Christian men to lead through intimidation or to confuse aggression with authority.

A few months ago, during a Father’s Day sermon, I shared this:

“As husbands, we aren’t called to fix our wives. We’re not called to micromanage. We’re called to win their hearts, with a kind of leadership that looks less like a throne and more like a towel and basin.

That kind of love doesn’t come from entitlement, it comes from the example of Jesus. It’s not about control, it’s about sacrifice. Jesus didn’t love the Church because she earned it. He loved, served, washed feet, and gave His life for her. That’s the model.”

Remember in  John 13 when Jesus took the position of a servant and washed His disciples’ feet? He wasn’t a man who lacked authority or was unsure of His identity. He knew exactly who He was. And that confidence allowed Him to SERVE rather than demand to be served.

We sometimes act as though kindness diminishes a man’s authority. Jesus shows us something entirely different. His willingness to serve didn’t make Him less of a leader. It revealed the kind of leader He was.

Christian fathers need to remember this. So do husbands, pastors, and men entrusted with responsibility for others. There are times when leadership requires difficult conversations and firm decisions. But authority is never permission to treat people harshly. We’re called to use our strength for the good of those entrusted to our care.

Over the past year, I’ve been reminded that this matters in real relationships, not just in conversations about culture. Speaking the truth in love should be aimed at RESTORATION, not humiliation. Our goal should be to pursue what is right while genuinely desiring the good of the person in front of us.

Recently, I heard an online sermon from a pastor with a beard (of course) who was talking about apologetics, the defense of the Christian faith. He talked about watching Christian apologists debate people of other faiths and enthusiastically celebrated one particular apologist because, in his words:

“And I am pro-apologetics. Apologetics means that you just have a reason to defend your faith. I'm obsessed with it. Every night before I go to bed, I get sucked into the vortex of watching these apologists just rip people a new one. My favorite is a dude named [no naming names].  And he just eviscerates Muslims and Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons and makes them look dumb. And I love it so much.”

I understand the appeal of a good argument. I believe Christians should be prepared to defend what we believe. But I found myself wondering: When did making someone look foolish become something we celebrate?

There's a difference between exposing a false belief and humiliating the person who holds it. Muslims, Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, atheists, and skeptics aren't trophies to collect from a debate. They're people made in the image of God who need the same grace we do.

First Peter 3:15 tells us to always be prepared to give a reason for the hope within us, but it doesn't stop there. Peter adds that we are to do it with gentleness and respect.

Will the truth sometimes create disagreement? Absolutely. Unity doesn’t mean pretending we agree when we don’t, and faithfulness to Scripture will sometimes put us at odds with others. But division shouldn’t be our ambition. We should want our words to serve the kind of unity that grows out of a shared commitment to Christ and His truth.

I want the people closest to me to know that they can trust me with the truth. I want my wife and family to know that disagreement doesn’t threaten my love for them. And I want the people I lead to understand that I can hold firmly to my convictions without making them feel small.

That doesn’t mean I’ll always get it right. It means I have a responsibility to keep growing in the character of Christ. So, by all means, say the hard thing when the hard thing needs to be said. Stand firmly on God’s Word. Don’t compromise your convictions just to keep everyone happy.

But don’t confuse being harsh with being courageous. The goal isn’t to become the man who can offend the most people before lunch. The goal is to become more like Jesus.

And if you’ve got a beard, that’s fine, too. Just make sure the fruit of the Spirit is growing along with it.

Jesus didn’t surrender His authority when He picked up the towel. He showed us what His authority was for.  Maybe it’s time we remembered that.

——————————————

There’s a growing cultural appetite for men who aren’t afraid to say hard things. Men who speak their minds, stand by their convictions, and refuse to bow to the pressure of a culture that seems increasingly uncomfortable with truth.

I understand the appeal. There’s something refreshing about a man who has convictions and isn’t afraid to stand by them. We need men who are willing to speak up when something is wrong, even when doing so comes at a cost.

But over the past year, I’ve found myself thinking more about the difference between a man who is willing to speak the truth and a man who simply enjoys saying hard things. They aren’t necessarily the same person.

We’ve encountered some of this on a personal level, and it has caused me to reflect on what Scripture actually teaches about how we treat people when we believe we’re right.

I understand the frustration behind much of the pushback against what people perceive as the feminization of our culture. Men should be courageous. We should take responsibility for our families and stand firmly on the truth of God’s Word. We shouldn’t be so concerned about public opinion that we’re afraid to say what needs to be said.

But I think we’ve begun to confuse harshness with strength. Somewhere along the way, the ability to offend people has become a badge of honor. And if someone takes offense, we can be tempted to assume that must mean we’re standing for truth.

But is that really biblical masculinity?

As a kid, I watched this dynamic play out in ways that left a lasting impression on me. What was sometimes presented as spiritual leadership crossed the line into spiritual abuse. I watched people use their convictions as justification for treating others poorly, including wives and daughters who deserved to be treated with dignity and respect.

Those experiences shaped the way I think about leadership. They also taught me that it’s possible to use the language of biblical authority while failing to reflect the character of Christ.

I don’t share that to suggest that every firm word is abusive or that confrontation is inherently wrong. Sometimes we need people who love us enough to tell us the truth. But there is a difference between speaking the truth because you love someone and using the truth as permission to treat someone harshly.

The Bible gives us a word that I think is often misunderstood: meekness. Many people hear that word and think of someone timid or unwilling to stand up for himself. But biblical meekness isn’t weakness. It’s strength under control, strength submitted to God rather than governed by our own impulses.

Look at Jesus. He confronted religious hypocrisy and spoke plainly about sin. He never allowed the fear of offending someone to keep Him from telling the truth. Yet He never needed to prove His authority by dominating the people around Him.

The fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5 includes kindness, gentleness, and self-control. Those qualities aren’t optional extras for men who happen to have a softer personality. They’re evidence of the Spirit’s work in every Christian’s life.

Over the past year, I’ve been reminded that this matters in real relationships, not just in conversations about culture. It’s one thing to defend biblical truth in principle. It’s another to live out that truth when emotions are high and relationships are strained.

Speaking the truth in love should be aimed at restoration, not humiliation. Our goal should be to pursue what is right while genuinely desiring the good of the person in front of us. We may not always agree, and sometimes the truth itself will expose real differences. But division shouldn’t be our ambition, and winning an argument shouldn’t be our measure of success. We should want our words to serve the kind of unity that grows out of a shared commitment to Christ and His truth.

A few months ago, during a Father’s Day sermon, I shared a picture of biblical leadership that has stayed with me: God hasn’t called men to lead with an iron fist, but with a washbasin and a towel.

In John 13, Jesus took the position of a servant and washed His disciples’ feet. He wasn’t a man who lacked authority or was unsure of His identity. He knew exactly who He was. And that confidence allowed Him to serve rather than demand to be served.

We sometimes act as though kindness diminishes a man’s authority. Jesus shows us something entirely different. His willingness to serve didn’t make Him less of a leader. It revealed the kind of leader He was.

Christian fathers need to remember this. So do husbands, pastors, and men who have been entrusted with responsibility for others. There are times when leadership requires difficult conversations and firm decisions. But our authority is never permission to treat people harshly. We are called to use our strength for their good.

I want the people closest to me to know that I can be trusted with the truth. I want my wife and family to know that disagreement doesn’t threaten my love for them. And I want the people I lead to understand that I can hold firmly to my convictions without making them feel small.

That doesn’t mean I’ll always get it right. It means I have a responsibility to keep growing in the character of Christ.

Kindness doesn’t mean avoiding confrontation. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is tell someone the truth they don’t want to hear. But our goal should be their good, not our satisfaction in having spoken our minds. Ephesians 4:15 calls us to speak the truth in love. Both parts matter.

As men, we don’t have to choose between conviction and compassion. We can stand firmly on God’s Word while treating people with the dignity they deserve as those made in His image.

Jesus didn’t surrender His authority when He picked up the towel. He showed us what His authority was for.

Maybe it’s time we remembered that.