There’s a quiet ache running through the lives of many young men today. You can see it if you stop and look. Netflix’s Adolescence shows teenagers searching for who they’re meant to be, but finding mostly confusion. The recent film Companion weaponizes misogyny.
Online, the “manosphere” offers a thousand voices promising success, power, or escape. Figures like Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson each offer their vision of manhood. And millions are listening — because the questions they raise are real.
So what does manhood look like in 2025?
It’s not always easy to say. A few generations ago, there were clearer expectations: get a job, start a family, provide, protect. It wasn’t a perfect picture, but it gave young men a path to walk. Today, that path is harder to find. Good jobs are fewer. Housing is harder to afford. Marriage happens later, if at all.
On top of that, the old instincts that once shaped men — strength, leadership, courage — are often viewed with suspicion. Boys grow up hearing that being “too much” is dangerous, and that wanting to lead, protect, or provide might be part of the problem. Many start to believe there’s something wrong with them at the core.
Social shifts made things even shakier. Movements for women’s rights were necessary and good. But somewhere along the way, a quiet message crept in: men are the problem. Not some men. Men as a category. Boys grew up hearing that their instincts — to protect, to provide, to lead — were not only old-fashioned, but harmful.
So it’s no surprise that a lot of young men today feel adrift.
And when people are lost, they reach out for guidance. That’s why the manosphere is growing. It recognizes something is broken. It speaks to young men’s hunger for meaning and direction. It names the ache. And in some ways, it’s right to call men toward strength, responsibility, and purpose.
That’s why figures like Andrew Tate, Jordan Peterson, and others have gained huge followings. They speak into the vacuum. They tell men it’s okay to want strength. Okay to want purpose. Okay to be a man. In some ways, they name the problem well. But their solutions often lead to new dead ends: selfishness, materialism, domination, bitterness.
But too often, it offers the wrong cure. It tells men to chase status, wealth, dominance, and self-interest. It turns strength inward. It leaves men more isolated, not less; more hardened, not more whole.
You don’t have to look far to see the results. Young men withdrawing from work and school. Hours lost to gaming, porn, or anger online. Soaring rates of loneliness, depression, and suicide. These aren’t statistics in a report somewhere. They are the lives of sons, brothers, and friends — aching for something solid to stand on.
At the heart of all this is a deeper question: what are we for?
At the Cross, Jesus gives an answer the world has forgotten. He shows a manhood not based on taking, but giving. Not on ruling, but serving. Not on power, but on love.
Jesus didn’t climb the ladder of success. He stooped to wash feet. He didn’t grasp at power. He emptied Himself. He didn’t save Himself. He saved others.
The Cross is not a picture of worldly manhood. It’s something far greater. It shows courage that does not demand applause. Strength that bends down to lift others. Leadership that looks like sacrifice.
This kind of manhood isn’t glamorous. It won’t build a platform. It may cost you respect in a world chasing status. But it will make you solid inside. It will make you free.
And it starts with death — a death to the old ways. Death to pride. Death to self-protection. Death to the desperate need to prove yourself. To follow Jesus, you must kneel. You must lay everything down.
It sounds like a loss. But it’s the only way to real life.
Because Jesus doesn’t just call men to surrender. He calls them to rise again — into a life rooted in God’s love, strong enough to endure rejection, suffering, and loss. A life secure, not because of what you achieve, but because of who you belong to.
That’s the life young men are aching for, even if they can’t yet name it. That’s the manhood the Cross calls us into. And it’s open to anyone who is willing to come and follow.
