For most of my life, I didn’t feel particularly masculine.
I don’t care for fixing engines, blowing stuff up, wrestling in the mud, or getting jacked. I did play football in high school, but as a 185-pound offensive lineman less than 6′ tall, any “masculinity” I possessed was pummeled out of me when the game began. Action movies bore me, I don’t want to play paintball, and while I’m a gamer, I’m more Boggle than Fortnite. When boomers say my generation is “soft,” they’re referring to me.
And yet, without any “come to John Wayne” moments, something has changed—I now feel masculine.
What changed for me wasn’t discovering a new hobby or buying a pair of blue jeans or sitting at the feet of Andrew Tate. It didn’t require a retreat in the woods, a workday on the farm, or a toolbox. It wasn’t a stereotypical masculine activity.
It was the church.
I’m not alone. Last week, The New York Times published a piece detailing the shocking shift in religious affiliation among my generation. In the article, Ruth Graham detailed her visit to Grace Church in Waco, Texas, where men were manning the welcome doors, filling the pews, and leading the worship. But the trend is bigger than Texas. According to the Survey Center on American Life, almost 40 percent of Gen Z women now describe themselves as religiously unaffiliated, compared to only 34 percent of men. In every other age group, men were more likely to be unaffiliated. So if Gen Z women are exiting the church, why are Gen Z men like me staying?
Because the church is giving us real masculinity.
Positive Vision
Gen Z men have grown up in a time when the concept of masculinity has been under intense scrutiny. In the wake of movements like #MeToo and widespread abuse revelations, our culture has rightfully questioned toxic behaviors often associated with manhood. But in the process, the culture has failed to offer a positive, constructive vision of what masculinity should look like.
Instead, it has presented us with two extremes: On the one hand, there’s a toxic version of manhood—equating masculinity with dominance, ego, and self-centeredness. On the other hand, there’s a soft, aimless version of manhood that’s hesitant to lead, unwilling to take responsibility, and unsure if there’s anything distinct—or commendable—about being a man. Neither of these extremes has provided a firm foundation for Gen Z men to build their lives on. And unfortunately, amid endless debates and social media wars, our society seems to have left us behind.
Except the church.
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to sacrifice in a culture that taught them to live for themselves (John 15:13).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to discipline in a culture that taught them indulgence (2 Tim. 1:7).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to community in a culture that taught them to do it on their own (Prov. 27:17).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to a purpose in a culture that taught them their life was meaningless (Eph. 2:10).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to love their wives in a culture that taught them marriage could wait (Eph. 5:25).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to purity in a culture that promised them fulfillment from sexual freedom (1 Cor. 6:18).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to work hard in a culture that taught them to “quiet quit” (Col. 3:23).
At church, Gen Z men are still being called sons in a culture that taught them they’re toxic (1 John 3:1).
Cruciform Masculinity
In the church, Gen Z men like me are rejecting the false masculinities offered by the culture and finding an alternative—a cruciform masculinity. In his death, Jesus subverts the ego, dominance, and self-centeredness of toxic masculinity in a divine display of humility, sacrifice, and love. But the cross also challenges the soft, aimless version of manhood that avoids responsibility and purpose. Jesus’s example shows us that real manhood embraces responsibility, cultivates strength, and commits to a mission—not to serve oneself but to serve others.
At church, Gen Z men are still being called to sacrifice in a culture that taught them to live for themselves.
At church, we’re called to something higher. True masculinity is rooted in knowing who you are—your identity as a son of God—and in having a mission, a purpose worth giving your life to. It’s about taking action and showing agency, knowing you have the power to make a difference in your life, your family, and your community. It’s about leaning into a unique, God-given responsibility, entrusted with power to protect, care for, and defend the vulnerable.
My church is a place where these aspects of true masculinity are modeled and celebrated. I feel masculine when I use my experiences to lead my small group of high school students, helping them navigate their struggles with faith and life. I feel masculine when I use my time and energy to serve in the kids’ ministry on Sunday mornings, serving as a spiritual father to the next generation. I feel masculine when I worship with my wife during the weekly service, building a relationship centered on faith. I feel masculine when I meet with my friends for a Bible study where we challenge each other and grow in spiritual brotherhood. I feel masculine when I work hard at my job for the benefit of my community, knowing my efforts contribute to something larger than myself.
I recognize, of course, that many of these examples could just as easily be true for a woman. A woman might say, “I feel feminine when I lead with compassion, serve my community, or build relationships rooted in faith.” Amen! That’s because redeemed masculinity and femininity both find their origins in Jesus’s sacrificial love. But I think Gen Z men, in particular, are responding differently because our culture has been especially confused about what it means to be a man.
Today’s gender-neutral, gender-fluid world has blurred the lines of God’s creation of males and females as distinct expressions of humanity. It has questioned masculinity’s value. Gen Z men like me long to hear that our God-given power has purpose, our responsibility has reward, and our valor has value. We crave the call to be humble sons, committed brothers, and wise fathers in our spiritual communities. And in a culture of confusion, the church has provided a clear and consistent vision of manhood shaped by the cross.
Gen Z men like me long to hear that our God-given power has purpose, our responsibility has reward, and our valor has value.
This kind of manhood is built on the fruit of the Spirit—on being a man of patience, faithfulness, and self-control. It’s about growing in wisdom, applying what you know in the right way at the right time, and leaving a legacy that will outlast you. The church has been shaping men like this for generations, and it’s no surprise Gen Z men are drawn to this vision of strength through service.
Kind of Manhood Gen Z Craves
While the culture keeps throwing around confused ideas of what men should be, the church has been steadily providing a model that makes sense: Christ. The man who laid down his life, led with love, and showed that real strength isn’t about puffing your chest but about putting others first.
This is the kind of manhood Gen Z men crave.
So my encouragement to the church is simple: Keep going. Keep promoting the sacrificial love of Jesus in a world desperate for meaning. Keep calling men to higher standards, to lives of integrity, and to leadership that looks more like a cross than a crown. You’re not just shaping better men; you’re shaping men who know their worth comes not from their accomplishments or status but from their identity as sons of God.
Gen Z men like me don’t need a new cultural definition of manhood. We need to be reminded of the one that’s been true all along—the one many of us are finding at church.
The Gospel Coalition