I used to think this would never change.
The hum, the way closeness stirred something low—like an instinct I couldn’t unlearn. I’d sit in the tension, knowing what I wanted was good, but feeling it tangled up with something that wasn’t.
Brotherhood was supposed to be simple. So why didn’t it feel that way?
At first, I did what most men do—I either fed it or feared it. Either way, it had power over me. Either way, I felt like I was losing.
But God doesn’t just call us away from something—He calls us toward something better. And over time, I started to see it.
The rewiring wasn’t about flipping a switch. It was slow. Quiet. Subtle at first, almost unnoticeable.
It looked like realizing I could feel the hum and not have to do anything about it. That I didn’t have to follow through, even in my own mind.
It looked like trust growing—trust in my brothers, trust in myself, trust in God most of all. Trust that He was holding me steady, that I wasn’t walking a tightrope, one wrong step from falling. That He wasn’t just calling me to resist, but to heal.
It looked like the old hunger changing, softening—not disappearing overnight, but shifting, little by little, until one day I noticed:
I don’t feel this the same way anymore.
The hum still comes sometimes, but it’s different now. It doesn’t shake me. It doesn’t whisper lies. It’s just a feeling, passing like a wave, while something stronger stands firm underneath.
Brotherhood isn’t fragile. Love between men isn’t dangerous. It’s holy when it’s in Christ.
And maybe the rewiring is just God teaching me to finally believe that.
CovenantRoad 
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