CovenantRoad

Author: CovenantRoad

  • The Father’s Heart for His Sons

    Beloved sons,

    I, the Lord your God, speak to you from the heavens, where I see each of you clearly, without the veils of human judgment or the shadows of imperfection. You are all My sons, crafted in My image, each one of you a testament to My love and creativity. From the moment I breathed life into Adam, I established a brotherhood amongst all men—a sacred bond, deeper than blood, meant to strengthen and uphold each of you in your walk with Me.

    Hear Me now, for I say to you, every man, regardless of his stature, whether he stands tall or not; whether his frame is broad or slender; whether his skin is dark, light, or any shade in between; you are all equally My sons. Age does not diminish your worth in My eyes; from the youngest boy to the eldest man, you are precious to Me. The external signs of what society might call masculinity do not define you. Whether you are bold and outspoken or quiet and reflective, you are all equally men in My kingdom.

    The size of your body or the depth of your voice does not measure your manhood; these are but fleeting aspects of your earthly vessel. Nor does your physical strength or athletic prowess dictate your value, for I look at the heart, not the muscle. My love for you does not waver if you are disabled or if your body does not conform to what the world deems perfect. You are each a unique expression of My love, and I cherish you just as you are.

    In marriage, singleness, or covenant brotherhood, you are each called to serve Me in your unique way. Those who are married, those who remain single for the Kingdom, and those who forge brotherhood covenants in My name all share in the same mission—to love, to lead, and to live in righteousness. Your worth does not come from your marital status, but from your faithfulness to Me and your willingness to walk in the bond of brotherhood I have ordained.

    Regarding the inclinations of your heart, understand that My love for you is unwavering, but I call you to live according to My teachings. Your identity as My sons is not defined by where your attractions lie, but by your commitment to live a life that honors Me. I encourage you to seek purity in your thoughts and actions, to walk in My ways which lead to life and peace.

    Let not the world’s judgments or its shallow standards of manhood sway you. You are all part of a greater brotherhood, a covenant that reflects My love—a bond meant to support, uplift, and call each other to holiness. Stand firm together, for where one stumbles, another is there to lift him up. Where one is weary, another is there to strengthen him. This is My design, that no man should walk alone. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

    Remember, My sons, you are not defined by what you see in the mirror or what others see in you, but by what I see in your hearts. Stand tall in this truth, for in My eyes, you are all equally men, equally loved, equally called into a brotherhood that reflects My Kingdom. Walk in this knowledge, live in this love, and let your bond as brothers be a beacon of My grace and truth in the world.

    With eternal love,
    Your Father in Heaven

    (This is not a direct prophecy or revelation, but a reflection of what God has spoken through Scripture—truths He has already declared about men, our identity, and our brotherhood.)

  • Covenant Formation

    Covenant Formation

    (Chapter Excerpt)

    Days later, Ethan stood in Ted’s living room, lamplight warming the space. Rachel sat by the fireplace, eyes bright with pride. Leo leaned against the wall, arms crossed but attentive. Dale was there—quiet, present, a nod of respect earned. An old Bible lay open on the coffee table, a silent witness.

    Ted faced Ethan, a paper in hand. “We ain’t here for a show,” he said, voice steady. “This is just puttin’ words to what’s already true.”

    He unfolded it, glancing at Ethan. “Ethan, I commit to walkin’ this road with you—not just as a friend, but as a brother. To pray with you, stand with you, hold you up when you’re strugglin’, challenge you when you need it. This world’ll pull at us, but we don’t belong to it. We belong to Christ. Long as I’m here, you won’t walk alone.”

    Ethan swallowed, the weight sinking deep. He unfolded his own paper, hands steady. “Ted, you’ve been more than a friend. You’ve been solid when I wasn’t. You showed me what it looks like to live for something bigger, and I don’t take that lightly. I commit to walking this with you—to keep learning, stay accountable, stand with you no matter what. I don’t know what’s ahead, but I don’t want to face it without this.”

    Silence stretched, thick with meaning. Ted pulled two braided leather wristbands from his pocket. Ethan frowned. “What’s this?”

    “Somethin’ to carry,” Ted said, handing one over. “A reminder.”

    Ethan slipped it on, then grasped Ted’s outstretched hand—firm, final. Rachel murmured a quiet, “Amen.” Leo whistled low. “Well, I’ll be. Didn’t think I’d see somethin’ like this.”

    Ted smirked. “That a compliment or an insult?”

    “Compliment,” Leo grinned. “I think.”

    Dale gave Ethan a long look, then nodded once. “Takes guts to commit like that.”

    Ethan nodded back—hard-won respect. Rachel stood, hugging him quick. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered.

    Ethan exhaled, lighter than he’d felt in years. This wasn’t about fitting in—it was bigger.

    As the night wound down, Rachel lingered, looking from Ted to Ethan and back. “I think you needed him as much as he needed you,” she said soft.

    Ted’s lips pressed tight, fingers brushing the wristband. She didn’t wait for a reply—just squeezed his arm with a knowing smile and left.

    Ethan caught Ted’s brief stiffness. “She’s right, isn’t she?”

    Ted chuckled weary. “Never thought I’d have this again.”

    Ethan nodded. He got it.

    (From Narrow Road Together in the Ethan & Ted series. Contact me if you’d like to read the full story.)

  • Who We Are, Men of God

    1. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, created by God in His image as a man (Psalm 139:14; Genesis 1:27).
    1. I am a beloved son of God, adopted into His family through Jesus Christ (Galatians 3:26; Ephesians 1:5).
    1. I am chosen by God, called to live as a man of strength, integrity, and purpose (1 Peter 2:9).
    1. I am fully seen, known, and loved by the One who formed me in my mother’s womb (Jeremiah 1:5; Psalm 139:15).
    1. I am equipped by God to fulfill the good works He has prepared for me as a man of faith (Ephesians 2:10).
    1. I am redeemed and restored through Christ, free to walk in my true identity as a man of God (2 Corinthians 5:17).
    1. I am called to reflect God’s image in my masculinity, bearing His strength and compassion (Genesis 1:26-27; Micah 6:8).
    1. I am a temple of the Holy Spirit, chosen and empowered to live as a godly man (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).
    1. I am part of the body of Christ, where I belong and am valued as a brother in the family of faith (Romans 12:4-5).
    1. I am strengthened by the Lord to be courageous and stand firm in my identity as a man (1 Corinthians 16:13; Joshua 1:9).
  • Still Here

    Still Here

    The locker room wasn’t busy—just a handful of guys finishing their workouts, grabbing showers, heading out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

    Eli pulled off his shirt, grabbed his towel, and turned toward the showers. That’s when he noticed James—still in his gym clothes, sitting on the bench, tying and retying his shoe like he had nowhere to be.

    Something in Eli told him to wait.

    He sat down across from him, stretching out his legs. “You hitting the showers?”

    James glanced up, shrugged. “Might just rinse off at home.”

    Eli nodded, pretending not to notice the hesitation. He’d seen this before. A guy trying to decide if it was okay to just be a guy.

    The showers here were open—an old-school setup that hadn’t been remodeled like most places. Nothing weird about it. At least, there shouldn’t have been. But these days? It was different.

    Eli leaned back against the lockers. “You ever play sports?”

    James shook his head. “Nah. Never really into that scene.”

    Eli smirked. “Yeah, me neither. But I grew up around guys who were. And you know what I remember? They didn’t think twice about this kind of thing.” He gestured toward the showers. “Back then, no one was worried about being seen. It was just part of life.”

    James chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… guess I never really thought about it.”

    But Eli could tell—he had thought about it.

    “I get it,” Eli said. “Somewhere along the way, we lost something. Got told to be careful, got trained to keep space between us. And now? Guys don’t even know what they’re missing.”

    James looked up. “What do you mean?”

    Eli exhaled, thinking. “Man, it’s hard to explain. It’s not about the showers. It’s about how normal it used to be—being unguarded around each other, not second-guessing every move.

    There was a kind of joy in it—the ease of just being, the trust that no one was watching, judging, or measuring. You don’t even realize how much you took it for granted… until it’s gone.”

    James nodded, quiet for a moment. “Yeah… I guess I do feel that. Like, I don’t even know why it feels weird. It just does.”

    Eli gave him a half-smile. “Yeah. But you know what? It doesn’t have to.”

    He stood up, grabbed his towel, and nodded toward the showers. “Still here, man. Ain’t going anywhere.”

    James hesitated, then smirked. “Yeah… guess I could use a rinse.”

    Eli clapped his shoulder, and together, they walked toward what had always been normal—what was still normal, underneath all the noise.

    Some things get lost.

    But not everything stays lost forever.

  • Youth Mentorship

    The small café buzzed quietly with the background hum of clinking dishes and low conversation. James, Luke, and Eli sat at a corner table near the window. They had just finished a morning group meeting and had invited Eli out for lunch—a gesture that seemed to mean more to him than he could put into words.

    Eli tapped the edge of his cup, hesitating before speaking. “Can I ask you guys something?”

    “Of course,” Luke said, his tone open and relaxed.

    Eli looked around the café nervously before lowering his voice. “Are you two… a couple?”

    The question hung in the air for a moment. James and Luke exchanged a glance—not out of discomfort, but with a silent understanding.

    “No,” James said gently. “We’re not. What we have… it’s different from that, but we get why you’d ask.”

    Luke leaned forward slightly. “We’ve committed to each other, though—committed to walking through life together as brothers in Christ. Our bond is deep, but it’s not romantic or sexual.”

    Eli nodded slowly but didn’t seem entirely convinced. “I don’t know… I’ve never seen two guys be that close without it being… something else.”

    James leaned in. “Look, we understand where you’re coming from. To be honest, both of us have struggled with same-sex attraction in the past—and still do at times.” He paused, giving Eli space to absorb the admission.

    Luke nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We’ve been where you are. Early on, that struggle complicated things between us. We had to navigate through it—through temptations, awkward moments—but with God’s help, we found a way to channel those feelings into something healthier. We built trust and intimacy that wasn’t tied to sex or romance.”

    Eli’s eyes widened slightly, and he leaned back. “You’re serious?”

    “Absolutely,” James said quietly. “I spent a lot of years confused and ashamed of my feelings, thinking they defined me. But when I surrendered my life to Christ, He started to reshape how I saw myself. Meeting Luke was part of that process. I learned that I could love and be loved by another man without shame.”

    Luke added, “And I was the same. I pushed people away because I didn’t know how to trust anyone with that part of me. But God taught me that intimacy isn’t just physical. It’s about being known and seen for who you are—and still being accepted.”

    Eli exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “That’s… not something I ever thought was possible. I’ve felt so alone for so long. It’s like I don’t know how to let anyone close without it getting twisted.”

    James nodded, empathy softening his features. “We get it, Eli. That fear is real. But you don’t have to stay trapped in it. It’s about taking small steps—finding someone you trust and letting God work through the relationship. It’s not about pretending the struggle isn’t there. It’s about transforming it.”

    “And it’s not all serious and heavy, either,” Luke added with a grin. “We joke around, wrestle, hang out—just like any brothers would. We’ve learned that intimacy doesn’t have to be hyper-spiritual or intense all the time. It’s in the everyday moments of being present with each other.”

    Eli was quiet for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I never thought there could be another option. I’ve always been caught between two extremes—either loneliness or falling into something I know isn’t God’s design.”

    “There is another option,” James said gently. “God’s design for brotherhood is real, Eli. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.”

    Luke leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We’re not perfect, man. We still mess up. But that’s why we walk this out together. Iron sharpens iron, right? And there are more guys out there who need this kind of connection than you’d think.”

    Eli’s eyes shimmered briefly before he blinked and cleared his throat. “Thanks. I think… I really needed to hear that.”

    (Excerpt from The Covenant Fulfilled in the James & Luke series – Contact me if you’d like to read the full story or series)

  • From Searching to Found: My Salvation Story

    I was born feeling unwanted. That’s not a bitter statement—just the reality of being adopted. Before I even had words, I carried the weight of rejection deep in my bones.

    I came into the world in the late ‘60s, grew up in the ‘70s, and came of age in the ‘80s. My adoptive mother, unable to have children of her own, poured everything into me—not just love, but need. I was supposed to fill something in her, to make her whole as a woman and a mother. But when I failed to meet those impossible expectations, she lashed out—emotionally controlling, smothering, and manipulative.

    My father was a good man—loving, nurturing—but passive. He didn’t protect me from her. He looked the other way when she broke me down.

    A Boy Out of Place

    I didn’t fit in with boys. I was sensitive, softer, more comfortable around girls. When I tried to step into their world, it didn’t go well. I was teased, pushed out, called a “girl,” then later, “gay.” It stuck.

    At nine years old, I found my first adult magazine. By twelve, I was hooked on porn and daily release—fueling my fantasies with the same boys who bullied me. I had no sense that this was wrong. My family and social circles weren’t religious. While they didn’t encourage it, they didn’t condemn being gay, so I figured, this must be who I am.

    Around the same time, I discovered alcohol. By my late teens, I had a serious drinking problem, and by college, I added cannabis into the mix. Substances dulled the ache, made me feel okay for a little while.

    Spiritually, I was agnostic, but God’s presence was never completely absent. Even in my childhood, I’d talk to Him, feel Him, though I never spoke about it. But Christianity? That was never on the table. I associated Jesus with judgmental, repressed people I wanted nothing to do with.

    Years of Searching in the Wrong Places

    In college, I found Eastern spirituality—yoga, psychology, self-discovery. I figured if I could just understand myself enough, I’d be healed. But nothing actually changed.

    Post-college, I started seeking relationships with men. I had three long-term relationships, each lasting about three years, but they never held meaning beyond the first six months. What I was looking for? I never found it.

    I gave up dating altogether by my 40s. But porn escalated, cannabis use deepened, and I buried myself in New Age spirituality—channeled material, law of attraction, anything that felt like truth.

    That’s when I first encountered a channeled version of Jesus—enough to make me curious about Him as a spiritual teacher, though I still had no concept of sin, salvation, or my own need for either.

    Even with no moral objections to porn, I started noticing that it was killing me inside. I felt the damage, even if I couldn’t yet name why.

    God Starts Chipping Away

    2018 was a turning point. I started following conservative accounts on social media—something I never thought I’d do. Through them, I was exposed to Christian voices that actually made sense. For the first time, I saw integrity, peace, and strength in Christians that I admired.

    By late 2022, something was shifting. I hadn’t had a painful crush in a while. I was feeling a strange pull toward something purer—though I couldn’t name it yet.

    I’ve always had a deep love of music, and music is where it began.. I was searching for something clean, something that spoke to my soul. That led me to Elvis Presley’s gospel music, which led me to other Christian songs. I didn’t know what salvation meant, but I felt the call.

    Around the same time, I hit a wall with porn. I was done.

    That’s when I found a post about a Christian men’s porn recovery program. I had no idea why, but I felt a strong, undeniable pull to join. I wasn’t even a Christian yet, but I jumped in anyway.

    The Moment It All Made Sense

    In that program, I found brotherhood like I’d never known before. Christian men, fighting alongside each other, leaning on Christ. That’s where I first truly heard the Gospel.

    I started reading C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity—and that’s when the walls came down. It wasn’t a slow build anymore. It was like the final puzzle piece snapped into place.

    I got it.

    Everything clicked at once—my sin, my need for salvation, Christ’s finished work on the cross. It wasn’t about trying harder, meditating more, or healing myself through self-discovery.

    Jesus had already done it.

    And in that moment, my answer was YES.

    I accepted Christ with my whole heart. And I’ve never doubted it since.

    A New Creation

    Porn lost its grip on me almost immediately. Not by willpower—but by His power. My new brothers in Christ walked with me, helping me unlearn the lies I’d believed my whole life about masculinity, identity, and belonging.

    I got invited to church and was baptized on my very first Sunday.

    At that point, I had already cut down my cannabis use significantly but had no intention of quitting completely. I figured I’d keep a small dose of nightly edibles. But after baptism, the Holy Spirit moved in, and even that small amount felt foreign in me. I couldn’t explain it—only that it was like God was pushing it out.

    So I let it go.

    It’s been over 2.5 years since I’ve touched porn or pot. Not by my strength—but by His.

    Still in the Process, but Fully His

    I don’t claim to have arrived. I’m still untangling from same-sex attraction, still walking out this process. But I am a new creation in Christ.

    And when I look back at my story—at every twist, every detour, every moment I spent searching—I see something I couldn’t see then:

    God was after me the whole time.

    He let me run. He let me seek peace in everything but Him. He let me come to the end of myself.

    And then, when the time was right—He caught me.

    I don’t know exactly where this road ends. But I know who’s leading me now.

    And that’s all I need.

  • The Old Oak

    The Old Oak

    I’m out here tonight, Brother, sitting under that old oak we planted. Moon’s high, air’s cool, and its branches stretch wider than I remember. Been years, six or maybe seven, since we dug that hole and dropped those roots. Your hands were muddy, my boots caked, laughing over how crooked it stood, betting it wouldn’t last the winter. Look at it now, tall and steady, leaves whispering soft in the breeze, roots deep in this Tennessee soil.

    We didn’t know it then, what it’d mean, what we were starting. Just two brothers, your creek wild, my pine steady, figuring it out. You with that fire in your eyes, pushing me to see bigger, me with my quiet, holding us when the wind blew hard. That day wasn’t just about a tree. It was us, planting something, covenant taking root, God’s hand in the dirt.

    I think about it, how it’s grown, how we’ve grown. Those early nights, your voice spilling dreams, my ears catching every one, talking until the stars faded, building this bond, soul to soul, not knowing it’d stretch like this oak. We’ve weathered storms, rain pounding, your doubts, my stumbles, held tight, covenant didn’t bend, didn’t break, roots went deeper.

    You’ve got that spark, always will, lighting fires in me I didn’t know could burn, pushing me past my still waters. I’ve got the steady, keeping us when your current runs fast, grounding us, God’s gift weaving through. That oak is us, twists and knots, not perfect, stronger for it, standing tall, weathering years, holding ground.

    I see it now, how it stretches beyond us. Kids climb it, ones we don’t know yet, shade for folks we’ll never meet, roots cracking stone, reaching wide, legacy we didn’t plan, God did. You and me, our talks, our fights, our quiet stands, planting something, covenant’s ripple, touching further than we’ll see.

    World’s cold, tries to uproot, lies whispering it don’t matter, but it does. Look at this tree, look at us. God’s growing it through us, past us, steady love, soul fire, covenant’s not small, not fleeting, it’s oak, deep, enduring, gift to us, gift through us.

    Brother, I’m thankful every day for you, for this, for what we’ve planted, roots holding, branches wide, God’s breath in it, legacy living, strong, ours, His.

    Yours, always,
    Josh

  • Sky’s Thread

    Sky’s Thread

    Late night cloaked the forward operating base—stars stabbing sharp over tents and sandbags, a cold wind slicing through cleared rain. Lanterns glowed faint inside canvas, trembling low, yard still—generator coughing near the barracks, a jackal’s howl threading the dark. Bunk five’s flap hung open—lantern flickering shadows—the FOB’s hum dulled, grunts racked or on watch, tension soft post-ridge.

    Jake and Travis sank onto crates outside—mud-streaked, weary—Travis’s bandaged arm propped stiff, aching, Jake beside, rifle leaned close. Breath fogged in the chill—shower’s steam a raw echo, shoulders bare then, jacketed now. Travis shifted, boots scuffing—eyes tracing stars, breath hitching—mud, Jake’s grip, wet shoulders flashing back. Chest tightened—voice rough. “Can’t shake it—you, me—since that first bunk.”

    Jake’s chest clenched, hazel catching lantern glow—Travis’s words slicing a wall since the ridge, warmth flaring he couldn’t dodge. “Yeah,” he said, low—pausing—“It’s there—always been.” Faith surged—bending sharp—Travis’s raw push thawing dad’s chill, a flare he needed. He pulled the canteen—swigged, passed it—fingers brushing Travis’s—a weight settling firm.

    Travis took it, swallowing hard—shower’s jolt humming low. “So what’s this—mud, blood, all of it?” His words cut—trust hot—“Faith’s yours—I’m grabbing at it, slipping some.” Blue-gray locked hazel under stars—wavering faith cracking wider, needing Jake’s steady to hold it.

    Jake’s jaw ticked, eased—“We’re brothers—real, lasts past this.” Faith spilled—firm—“Chaplain’s ‘hold fast’—mine prayed me through—He’s here, Travis, gripping us.” Grin tugged—“You’re clawing it—that’s more’n words.” Steady flared—Travis’s push a lifeline looping back—“Lost dad—thought I’d break. He holds me—you’re proof.”

    Travis leaned back—canteen sloshed, down—exhaling sharp—“Brothers…” Voice wrestled—“Never had it—grabbing it’s shaky.” Smirk flickered—blue-gray searching Jake—“I’m slipping, but damn—‘hold fast’ sticks now.” Trust surged—clawing for Jake’s rock, pull twisting into a line he gripped—“Faith’s alive with you—tethers this mess.”

    Jake’s grin held—“Fighting’s faith—keeps me straight.” Faith glowed—Travis’s raw spark a lifeline both ways—“He’s here—keeps us ‘cause we’re locked, not lone.” Voice fell warm—“Lost dad—broke me ‘til He held. You’re fighting—He’s holding us both.” He paused—eyes lifting to stars—“Let’s pray it.” His voice dropped, simple—potent—“Lord, we’re beat—mud, blood, all this. Hold us fast—Travis’s fight, my steady—keep us Yours. Bind us tight—brothers, not broke. Amen.”

    Travis’s breath hitched—smirk gone—“Amen…” Voice stretched—faith cracking, shaky but real—Jake’s prayer a rock he grabbed, their bond forging tighter under starlit chill—shoulders pressed, steady glowing.

    Eddie’s shout cut faint—“Damn jackal!”—Hensley spat near—“East line’s live”—radio low. FOB slept—Timmy’s boots scuffing, a snore—blind to their crack, lantern weaving it tight. Travis whistled—off-key—Jake’s gaze held—a thread humming as stars glared cold.

    (Chapter from Brothers in Dust. Contact me if you’d like to read the full story).

  • Rewired: A Testimony in Progress

    I don’t know exactly where this road ends. I just know I’m not where I started.

    For most of my life, brotherhood and desire were tangled together—so tightly woven that I couldn’t see where one ended and the other began. The longing I felt for men wasn’t just about attraction—it was deeper, more complicated. A mix of admiration, craving, and something I once thought was awe-inspiring.

    And for a long time, I held onto that. Even after surrendering my life to Christ, even after stepping into a new way of living, a small part of me still wondered: Was this really something to let go of? Or was there a way to keep it, to sanctify it somehow?

    It wasn’t about sex. It was about closeness, belonging. That deep, aching pull toward men. The way it hummed inside me when I felt seen, chosen, wanted.

    And maybe, I thought, that hum wasn’t a distortion. Maybe it was a gift.

    The Truth That Cut Through

    But slowly, steadily, God began rewiring me. Not with a single, dramatic moment, but with truth creeping in like light through cracked blinds—truth I couldn’t unsee.

    The longing wasn’t wrong. But the way it had been shaped in me was.

    What I’d thought was beautiful was actually broken. The love I longed for was real, but the way I sought it had been distorted by wounds, lies, and a world that sexualizes everything it touches.

    And here’s the key realization: That distortion was its own thing. Separate. A counterfeit standing beside the real.

    Two Realities, but One Truth

    I still experience echoes of the old, eroticized fantasy of brotherhood. It hasn’t vanished overnight. It still exists in my mind as its own thing—a leftover framework, a script I once believed in.

    But then there’s something far greater—the actual, real, God-designed brotherhood that has emerged alongside it. And these two things? They are not the same. They exist side by side, but they do not mix.

    The true brotherhood I now know—the bond I have with my brothers in Christ, with men I walk alongside in faith and life—is completely separate from the distortion. That confusion doesn’t exist between us. The old wiring may hum in the background at times, but it has no place in my actual relationships.

    I used to believe my longing for men had to be expressed in a certain way or it would be wasted. Now I see—God wasn’t withholding something from me. He was leading me into something far better.

    Still in the Process

    I’m not fully rewired yet. I still feel the hum sometimes. The old patterns still try to stir.

    But they don’t own me. They don’t define me.

    And more than ever, I trust where this road is leading.

    Because the further I go, the more I see—this longing isn’t meant to be suppressed. It’s meant to be redeemed.

    Not in eroticized connection. Not in longing for a brother to fill something in me.

    But in the kind of pure, deep, Christ-centered brotherhood that was God’s design all along.

    I don’t know exactly what it looks like to be fully on the other side of this process. But I know this:

    I’m getting there.

    And what I’ve already tasted of the real thing? It’s already better than what I thought I wanted.

  • Brother, This is Who You Are

    1. You are a man because God made you one, and He does not make mistakes. (Genesis 1:27, Psalm 139:14)

    2. You are strong—not just in body, but in heart, in mind, in spirit. (1 Corinthians 16:13, Joshua 1:9)

    3. Your manhood is not defined by your skills, interests, or personality—it is defined by God’s design. (1 Samuel 16:7, Isaiah 64:8)

    4. You were made to lead with love, to protect with strength, and to serve with courage. (Ephesians 5:25, Mark 10:45)

    5. You are not alone—you were created for brotherhood, to walk with other men, sharpening and strengthening each other. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, Proverbs 27:17)

    6. You are a warrior in God’s kingdom, equipped to stand firm against the enemy. (Ephesians 6:10-11, 2 Timothy 2:3-4)

    7. Your past does not define your manhood—God does, and He is making you new. (2 Corinthians 5:17, Romans 8:1-2)

    8. You do not need the world’s approval to be a man—you already have your Father’s blessing. (Matthew 3:17, Galatians 1:10)

    9. Your body was made by God and is good, a temple for His Spirit, not for shame. (1 Corinthians 6:19-20, Genesis 1:31)

    10. You are called to be bold, to stand firm, to walk in truth, and to live as the man God made you to be. (Micah 6:8, 1 Corinthians 16:13-14)

  • A Quiet Surrender

    Late summer dusk settled over Ted’s porch, golden light stretching shadows long across the boards. Ethan leaned against the railing, watching Ted tinker with a loose step—a nail here, a tap there. The air was warm, still, a quiet Ethan used to fight. Now, with Ted, it felt right.

    Ted reached for his screwdriver, and Ethan passed it without a word. Ted didn’t look up, just nodded slightly. “You’re getting good at that.”

    Ethan smirked. “What, handing you tools?”

    “Readin’ people,” Ted said, tightening the screw. “Not everybody pays attention.”

    Ethan took a sip of water, unsure how to take that. He had been paying attention—to Ted’s steady hands, his plain words, the way he never grasped or rushed. A year ago, silence would’ve driven him nuts. Now, it was where he found himself.

    Ted sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on a rag. Ethan exhaled slowly, watching the trees sway. “You ever think about how things line up?” he asked, quieter than usual.

    Ted tossed the rag aside. “What do you mean?”

    Ethan hesitated. “Like… if I hadn’t come here. If I hadn’t met you. Or if I had, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

    Ted studied him, eyes thoughtful. “You ever hear about Elijah in the cave?”

    Ethan shook his head.

    Ted stretched out his legs, leaning against the railing. “Prophet, scared outta his mind. Runnin’. Thought he was alone, hidin’ in a cave, waitin’ for God to show up big—fire, storm, somethin’ loud.” He glanced at Ethan. “But God wasn’t in any of that.”

    Ethan frowned. “Where was He?”

    “In a whisper,” Ted said, voice soft.

    Ethan sat with that, the words pressing in a way he couldn’t explain. Ted let it linger, then added, “Sometimes we’re so busy lookin’ for answers in the noise, we miss Him whisperin’ the whole time.”

    Ethan swallowed, throat tight. His whole life, he’d seen faith as rules—church on holidays, prayers before meals, a script you followed. It’d never been real. “I didn’t grow up like this,” he said, staring at his glass. “Mom dragged us to church sometimes. We said grace. But it was just… what you did.”

    Ted didn’t speak, just listened.

    “I always thought faith was about following the rules,” Ethan said, a faint laugh escaping. “And I was never good at that.”

    Ted’s voice was steady. “Maybe what you had wasn’t faith.”

    Ethan glanced at him.

    “Maybe it was just religion,” Ted said—not an accusation, an invitation.

    The words hit hard. Ted talked about God like He was here—real, close. Like he wasn’t alone. Something flickered in Ethan’s chest—small, undeniable.

    Ted looked at the sky, last light fading to blue. He exhaled slow, posture relaxed but face soft. Ethan had changed him too—stirred gratitude he hadn’t expected. For his own road through fire. For the whisper that’d reached him. For it reaching Ethan now.

    Ethan’s grip tightened on his glass. “Maybe I was looking for you,” he said, barely above a whisper, then stopped, unsure what he meant.

    Ted turned, meeting his eyes—not surprised, just knowing. “Maybe,” he said simply.Ethan exhaled shakily. For the first time, he didn’t want to run from it—whatever this was. Ted gave a small nod, like he understood. In his heart, he murmured two words: Thank You.

    (Chapter from Narrow Road Together in the Ethan & Ted series. Contact me if you’d like to read the full story)

  • Emotional Dependency vs. Healthy Covenant

    Brotherhood is meant to be deep, real, and lasting—but if we’re not careful, what starts as something good can slip into something unhealthy.

    There’s a fine line between leaning on a brother and needing him to hold you up. Between walking side by side and clinging in a way that weighs you both down.

    The world doesn’t understand this tension. It assumes all deep male love must either be romantic or toxic—but God designed something better, something stronger.

    So how do we know when a brotherhood is covenant—and when it’s crossed into emotional dependency?

    1. Covenant Strengthens—Dependency Drains

    In a healthy brotherhood, both men sharpen each other (Proverbs 27:17). They push each other toward Christ, toward truth, toward growth.

    But in emotional dependency, the relationship becomes one-sided—one man always needing the other to make him feel okay.

    Covenant says, I’ve got your back, but your strength comes from God, not me.
    Dependency says, I can’t stand unless you hold me up.

    Brotherhood should fuel your strength, not replace it.

    2. Covenant Builds on Christ—Dependency Builds on a Person

    A brotherhood built on Christ is unshakable—because its foundation is outside of either man.

    But emotional dependency happens when a man starts making his brother his anchor instead of God. He relies on his presence, his attention, his approval to feel secure.

    Covenant says, You’re my brother, but Jesus is my rock.
    Dependency says, I don’t know who I am without you.

    A healthy brotherhood always points each other back to Christ, not just to each other.

    3. Covenant Respects Space—Dependency Fears Distance

    Brothers in covenant don’t have to be attached at the hip. Their bond isn’t threatened by distance, by life changes, by seasons where they don’t talk as much.

    But emotional dependency creates fear of separation—the belief that if we’re not constantly connected, I’ll lose you.

    Covenant says, I’m with you for life, no matter what.
    Dependency says, I need constant reassurance that you’re still here.

    A strong bond doesn’t demand constant contact—because it trusts the foundation is solid.

    4. Covenant Lets Go When Needed—Dependency Clings Out of Fear

    In true brotherhood, there’s freedom. If God calls one brother into marriage, ministry, a new season of life, the other doesn’t panic or feel abandoned.

    But emotional dependency can lead to resentment if one man starts pulling away—even for the right reasons. It can make a brother feel owned instead of loved.

    Covenant says, No matter where God leads you, our bond is still real.
    Dependency says, If you change, I don’t know who I am anymore.

    Real covenant releases, blesses, and trusts—it never clings out of fear.

    5. Covenant Deepens with Time—Dependency Eventually Breaks

    When a brotherhood is healthy, it grows stronger with time. It weathers storms, it adjusts to life’s changes, and it remains unshaken because it was built on something lasting.

    But emotional dependency eventually collapses under its own weight. It creates pressure, unmet expectations, and resentment when one man can’t be everything the other wants him to be.

    Covenant says, We’ll still be here for each other 20 years from now.
    Dependency says, If this doesn’t stay exactly the same, I don’t know what to do.

    Brotherhood isn’t about holding on too tight—it’s about holding on in the right way.

    The Answer: Bringing It to Christ

    If you’ve ever felt emotional dependency creeping into a friendship, don’t let shame take over. It doesn’t mean your brotherhood isn’t real—it just means it needs re-centering.

    Ask yourself:

    • Am I leaning on my brother more than I’m leaning on Christ?
    • Do I trust this bond, or do I feel like I have to control it?
    • Am I loving him in a way that strengthens both of us, or in a way that puts pressure on him?

    The goal isn’t to detach from brotherhood—it’s to make sure it’s holy, strong, and built to last.

    Because real covenant? It’s not fragile. It doesn’t suffocate. It doesn’t fade. It stands the test of time—not because of need, but because of calling.

  • More, Not Less

    The world says if two men love each other deeply, it must be romantic. That if you feel drawn to a brother, if his presence anchors you, if his friendship stirs something deep—you have to put a label on it that fits the world’s mold.

    But what if that’s a lie?

    What if what you’re feeling isn’t romantic longing, but something even deeper? Something older than time, written into your soul before the world told you what to call it?

    Because brotherhood—true brotherhood—isn’t second place. It’s not a consolation prize.

    It’s God’s design.

    And what He designed? It’s better.

    Not a Limitation—A Gift

    God isn’t holding out on us. He’s not saying, You don’t get to have deep love because you can’t have it like the world does.No—He’s saying, I have something richer for you, something that doesn’t fade, something that won’t leave you emptier than when you started.

    Romance can be good. Marriage is a gift. But brotherhood?

    It’s covenant. It’s lifelong. It’s not built on shifting emotions, but on something solid.

    • A brother isn’t here for what you can give him. He’s here because he’s called to be.
    • A brother doesn’t pull away when attraction shifts, when emotions fade, when life takes a turn. He stays.
    • A brother isn’t a passing season. He’s a constant.

    And that’s what makes brotherhood stronger.

    More Than Skin Deep

    When the world makes love only about physical connection, it shrinks it. It makes it less, not more.

    Because real love between men? It’s found in the way we fight for each other. The way we sharpen each other. The way we carry each other’s burdens—not for a season, but for a lifetime.

    Platonic brotherhood isn’t lacking anything. It’s fuller than the world could ever imagine.

    It’s David and Jonathan, swords drawn for each other.
    It’s Moses and Aaron, holding each other up when the battle raged on.
    It’s Jesus calling His disciples not just servants, but friends (John 15:15).

    That’s what we’re made for.

    Something That Lasts

    Romance can come and go. The rush of feelings, the fire of attraction—it fades like all things do. But a bond forged in covenant? That’s something the years can’t touch.

    God isn’t taking something from you—He’s giving you something better.

    A love that isn’t fragile. A bond that doesn’t waver. A brother who walks with you—not because of emotion, but because of calling.

    And when you lean into that—when you embrace the fullness of what God designed—

    You don’t lose anything.

    You gain everything.

  • What Is Covenant Brotherhood?

    Covenant brotherhood isn’t a new idea. It’s not something we’re inventing or reimagining. It’s something ancient—something God-designed—that’s been largely forgotten.

    For most of history, men understood that they weren’t meant to walk alone. They knew that deep, committed brotherhood was part of what made them strong, part of what formed them into the men they were called to be.

    But somewhere along the way, that got lost. And in its place? A culture that isolates men, weakens bonds, and turns what was once sacred into something either ridiculed, ignored, or distorted.

    It’s time to recover what was lost.

    1. The Definition: What Is Covenant Brotherhood?

    Covenant brotherhood is a lifelong, Christ-centered commitment between men—a bond of loyalty, trust, and love that goes beyond casual friendship. It’s not just about being close—it’s about being bound by something unshakable.

    It’s built on:

    • Commitment – A bond that isn’t dependent on circumstances.
    • Accountability – Brothers sharpen each other and call each other higher.
    • Self-Sacrifice – Covenant isn’t just about receiving; it’s about laying your life down for your brother (John 15:13).
    • Christ at the Center – Without Him, it’s just friendship. With Him, it’s something holy.

    2. The Biblical Foundation of Covenant Brotherhood

    Covenant has been a key theme in God’s design for relationships since the beginning. And in Scripture, we see powerful examples of covenant brotherhood—bonds that went beyond ordinary friendship into something sacred.

    Jonathan and David (1 Samuel 18:1-4)

    • “The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”
    • Jonathan didn’t just befriend David—he entered into covenant with him. He stripped himself of his royal robe and armor, symbolizing a bond of deep trust, loyalty, and sacrifice.

    Jesus and His Disciples (John 15:15)

    • “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.”
    • Jesus wasn’t talking about casual friendship. He was establishing a brotherhood, built on commitment, mission, and self-sacrificial love.

    Paul and Timothy (Philippians 2:22)

    • “But you know Timothy’s proven worth, how as a son with a father he has served with me in the gospel.”
    • Paul and Timothy weren’t just teacher and student—they were bonded in deep, spiritual brotherhood, walking side by side in the mission of Christ.

    From the Old Testament to the New, God-ordained brotherhood has always been part of His design—and men throughout history understood this.

    3. The Historical Presence of Covenant Brotherhood

    For centuries, deep male bonds weren’t just accepted—they were celebrated and expected.

    Medieval Blood Brotherhood

    • In many cultures, men formalized their bond through blood covenants, swearing lifelong loyalty to one another.
    • These weren’t secret societies or military pacts—they were chosen families, men who committed to standing by each other in all things.

    Christian Monastic Orders

    • Early monastic communities weren’t just about solitude—they were about brotherhood. Men lived, worked, and prayed together in deep, lifelong commitment.
    • They understood that walking alone wasn’t the way—that holiness was sharpened in community, not isolation.

    Rites of Passage and Male Initiation

    • For most of history, men didn’t enter adulthood alone—they were brought into it by other men through rites of passage.
    • These initiations weren’t just physical—they were relational, bonding men together in shared purpose and responsibility.

    4. The Loss of Covenant Brotherhood in Modern Culture

    So what happened?

    Why do men today struggle to form deep, lasting bonds?

    Here’s what’s changed:

    • Radical Individualism – Our culture glorifies the lone wolf, pushing men toward isolation instead of connection.
    • Hyper-Sexualization – Close male bonds are now viewed with suspicion, as if all deep love between men must be erotic.
    • Loss of Rites of Passage – Without real initiation into manhood, many men drift through life without strong male bonds.
    • Church Weakness on Brotherhood – Many churches emphasize marriage and family (which are good!) but offer no real vision for deep male brotherhood.

    The result? Men are more isolated than ever. They lack the deep, committed friendships that previous generations took for granted.

    5. Restoring What Was Lost: The Road Back to Covenant

    The good news? Covenant brotherhood isn’t gone—it’s just buried. And it’s time to dig it back up.

    How do we reclaim it?

    • Recognize the Need – Stop pretending men don’t need each other. We were designed for deep male bonds.
    • Break the Lies – Brotherhood isn’t weak. It isn’t something to grow out of. It isn’t sexual. It’s biblical.
    • Commit to Your Brothers – Brotherhood doesn’t happen by accident. It’s built through intentionality, consistency, and shared mission.
    • Keep Christ at the Center – Without Jesus, it’s just friendship. But with Him? It’s covenant. It’s family. It’s something unshakable.

  • The Gift of Us

    Scene: Micah and Luke sit by a campfire under a wide Tennessee sky, embers popping soft. Micah’s got a stick in hand, poking at the flames—restless. Luke’s leaning back against a log, steady as ever, watching his brother wrestle.

    Micah tossed the stick into the fire and let out a long breath. “Luke, I’ve been thinking about us—about this.” He gestured between them, voice tight. “What we’ve got—it’s good, man—but sometimes I wonder if it could be more.”

    Luke tilted his head, eyes catching the firelight. “More how?”

    Micah shifted, boots scuffing the dirt. “You know—like closer. Deeper. Maybe step it up—cross that line. I feel it sometimes—this pull—and I think it’d make us stronger.”

    Luke sat quiet for a moment, letting the words settle. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked at Micah—steady, warm. “I feel it too, brother—that pull. Chest gets tight, lower parts stir—I’m not blind to it. But stronger? Nah, I don’t buy that.”

    Micah frowned, picking up another stick to fidget with. “Why not? Isn’t that what love does—grows bigger, takes you somewhere new? We’re tight—closer than I’ve ever been with anyone. Feels like the next step’s right there.”

    Luke nodded slow, like he was weighing every word Micah spilled. “I get it—feels natural, right? World says if it’s this deep, it’s gotta go there—romance, bodies, all in. But listen—I’ve been down that road in my head—felt the hum—thought crossing’d make it more. It doesn’t.”

    Micah’s grip tightened on the stick. “How do you know? What if it’s better—what if it’s what we’re meant for?”

    Luke exhaled, his breath curling in the cool night air. “Because I’ve seen what’s on the other side—not with you, but with others—back when I was lost. It’s fire, sure—but it burns out. Starts hot, ends cold—leaves you empty, chasing the next spark. What we’ve got? This right here?” He tapped his chest, then pointed at Micah. “This is warm—steady—keeps going. Doesn’t need to cross to be real.”

    Micah looked away, firelight carving shadows on his face. “But I feel it, Luke—stronger some days than others. Like it’s telling me something—telling us something.”

    Luke leaned in closer, voice dropping low but sure. “I know you feel it—I do too. That’s not a lie, and it’s not wrong. It’s just our wiring—old echoes kicking up—heart, body, all of it. But God’s not teasing us with that—He’s not dangling it to pull it back. He’s giving us something else—something bigger. This bond—this covenant—it’s a gift, man. Doesn’t need more to be everything.”

    Micah’s jaw worked, eyes still on the flames. “Feels like we’re holding back, though—like we’re missing out.”

    Luke shook his head, a faint smile tugging his lips. “We’re not missing—we’re holding onto what lasts. You cross that line, it shifts—turns inward—gets tangled—needs more to keep it alive. This?” He gestured between them, same as Micah had. “This stands free—soul deep—God’s breath in it. I’ve got you here—whole, steady—don’t need to own you to love you. That’s better—way better—than any step up the world’s pushing.”

    Micah let the stick fall—watched it catch in the embers—quiet stretching between them. “You really think it’s enough—just this?”

    Luke reached over, clapped a hand on Micah’s shoulder—warm, firm. “Enough? Brother, it’s more than I ever hoped for. You’re my rock—I’m yours—nothing shakes that. God’s not withholding—He’s handing us gold—love that don’t bend, don’t break. Feel that pull—sure—but let it sit—give it to Him. We’re stronger right where we stand.”

    Micah exhaled slow—nodded once—eyes softening as the fire crackled low. “I hear you. Just… takes some unlearning, you know?”

    Luke’s grin widened—hand still on Micah’s shoulder. “Yeah—I know. Took me a while too—still does some days. But we’ve got this—together—God’s got us. Ain’t nothing better than that.”

    Micah smiled—small but real—leaning into the warmth of Luke’s grip. The night stretched quiet around them—fire glowing steady—and for the first time in a while, the pull didn’t feel like a fight.

    It felt like a gift.

  • Still Here

    Brother,

    The road’s been long, hasn’t it? Feels like we’ve walked a thousand miles, some side by side, some with distance stretching wide between us. Some with laughter shaking our ribs, some with silence too thick to cut through.

    But I’m still here.

    And I need you to know—I see you.

    I see the weight in your eyes, the fight in your bones, the way you press forward even when it feels like you’re dragging something heavy behind you. I know that feeling. I know how some days it’s easy to carry, and some days it knocks the wind out of you.

    And I know the lie that sneaks in when the nights are too quiet—that you’re doing this alone.

    But you’re not.

    Brotherhood isn’t built in loud moments. It’s built in the quiet ones. The ones where a hand grips your shoulder and says, I see you, even when you don’t say a word. The ones where you don’t have to ask for help, because someone already knows you need it.

    That’s us.

    Covenant ain’t about words spoken once and left to fade. It’s about staying, even when it’s hard. Even when life pulls in different directions. Even when we don’t have the words, but we still show up.

    So if you’re out there wondering if this bond still holds, if I still see you, if I still have your back—

    The answer’s yes.

    Still here, brother.

    Always.

  • The Night We Almost Walked Away

    Eli was already halfway to his truck when Jason called after him.

    “So that’s it?” Jason’s voice was sharp, cutting through the cold night air. “You’re really just gonna leave?”

    Eli stopped but didn’t turn around. His shoulders were tight, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Man, I don’t know what else to do.”

    Jason stepped closer, his pulse hammering. “You fight. That’s what you do.”

    Eli let out a dry laugh. “Yeah? ‘Cause it sure don’t feel like you’ve been fighting for this.”

    Jason flinched. That one landed.

    Eli finally turned, his jaw clenched. “You pull away every time things get hard, and I just—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I can’t keep being the only one holding this together.”

    Jason exhaled hard, looking at the ground. He hated that Eli was right.

    Eli shook his head. “Look, I know I’m not perfect. But I show up. I tell you when I’m struggling. And you—” He gestured vaguely, frustration tightening his voice. “You just bury it. Act like you’re fine even when you’re not. And somehow, I’m supposed to just know what’s going on with you?”

    Jason’s chest burned. “It’s not that easy for me, alright?”

    “Yeah? Well, it ain’t easy for me either.” Eli’s voice was rough now, strained. “You’re not the only one who’s been through some stuff, J.”

    Jason looked up then, met Eli’s eyes—dark with hurt, with exhaustion.

    And it hit him all at once.

    This wasn’t just some petty argument. This wasn’t about one bad night or a stupid misunderstanding.

    This was Eli saying, I can’t be the only one holding this line.

    Jason swallowed hard. “You’re right.”

    Eli blinked, caught off guard.

    Jason stepped closer, voice quieter now. “You’re right, man. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let someone in when everything in me says I gotta handle it alone.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

    Eli just looked at him for a second, something unreadable in his face.

    Jason hesitated, then reached out—gripped the back of Eli’s neck, firm, grounding. “Don’t go, man. I need you to stay.”

    Eli’s breath hitched. For a second, Jason thought he might shove him off, might say it’s too late.

    But then—Eli’s shoulders dropped. The tension bled out of him, and he let out a long, shaky breath.

    “Alright,” he muttered. “Alright.”

    Jason let go, stepping back, but the weight in his chest had lifted.

    Eli gave him a tired smirk. “You really suck at talking about your feelings.”

    Jason huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… I’m working on it.”

    Eli clapped him on the shoulder, lingering just a second longer than usual. “Good. ‘Cause I ain’t going anywhere.”

    And that was that.

    They walked back to the truck together, the cold night still pressing in.

    But somehow, it didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

  • Letter to My Brother

    Brother,

    I don’t say it near enough. I probably should, but I need you to hear this. I thank God for you every day I’ve got breath.

    I don’t know where I’d be without this, without you. I think of those nights we’ve sat on the tailgate with our boots dangling, not saying a word because we didn’t need to. I think of those calls you’ve made, pulling me up when I’m sliding, your voice steady, reminding me who I am when the mirror’s foggy and I can’t see straight.

    This world’s cold, man. We’ve both felt it bite. That loneliness sneaks in, even when the room’s full. Folks see you but don’t get you, know your name but not your soul. I’ve walked that with my chest hollow, searching for something warm to hold onto.

    But not with you, brother.

    With you, I don’t have to front. I don’t need to flex, watch my step, or wonder if I fit. No masks, just me with my rough edges and dumb quirks, all of it. You’re home, brother, plain and simple, steady ground when everything else shakes.

    This thing we’ve got isn’t some fling that fizzles when life piles up. It isn’t built on quick laughs or easy days. It’s covenant, carved deep, soul to soul. I don’t toss that word around. It’s weight I carry, a promise I keep.

    If the world tugs at you, I’ll yank harder. If you drift, I’ll track you down with my boots on and coffee in hand. I won’t stop until I find you. If you stumble and hit the dirt, I’m there with my hand out. I ain’t letting you stay low, not on my watch.

    That’s us. That’s what we are.

    We don’t always go deep. Half the time it’s you roasting my coffee or me saying you owe me lunch. But don’t you ever think you’re solo on this road, not for a second. I’m making it crystal. You’re not alone.

    I’ve got your back, always have, always will.

    So wherever you’re at tonight, whatever’s sitting heavy on your chest, know this. I’m here. Miles don’t matter. Storms don’t shake me. Nothing changes it.

    We’re in this, locked tight, and I ain’t going nowhere.

    Yours, always,
    Josh

  • Not Alone

    Jason had been watching Eli slip for weeks.

    It wasn’t the kind of thing most people would notice. He still showed up to work, still laughed at the right moments, still answered texts. But Jason saw the difference. The way Eli’s voice had lost something. The way he never lingered after church anymore. The way his eyes were always tired.

    Tonight was the first time he actually got Eli to come over. No agenda, just burgers and a game on in the background. But Jason could tell—Eli was somewhere else.

    They sat on the porch now, the night quiet around them, crickets filling the space between their words.

    “You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Jason finally asked.

    Eli exhaled sharply. “Nothing, man. Just been tired.”

    Jason didn’t buy it. “Tired how?”

    Eli shrugged, staring at the ground. “Like…what’s the point?”

    Jason’s chest tightened.

    Eli shook his head. “I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” he muttered. “I just—man, I’m so tired of fighting.”

    Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Fighting what?”

    Eli let out a humorless laugh. “Everything. Temptation. The loneliness. Trying to be strong all the time. Feeling like I’m the only one who walks into an empty house every night, wondering if this whole ‘choosing Christ’ thing is actually gonna be enough.”

    Jason swallowed hard.

    Eli kept going, voice raw now. “I know the truth. I know God’s got me. But it still hurts, man. And it’s like no one even sees it.”

    Jason didn’t speak right away. He just reached over and grabbed Eli by the shoulder, firm.

    Eli flinched, barely noticeable.

    Jason tightened his grip. “I see it.”

    Eli’s throat bobbed.

    Jason didn’t let go. “You hear me? I see you, brother. And I need you to listen to me real close—you are not walking this road alone.”

    Eli squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing was uneven now, something cracking open inside him.

    Jason pulled him in, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other around his shoulder. Eli didn’t move at first—stiff, like he didn’t know how to accept it.

    Then, slowly, he let out a shaky breath and leaned in.

    Jason held tight. “I’ve got you. We got you. And you’re gonna make it.”

    Eli didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

    Jason could feel it—the weight lifting, the battle shifting.

    And for the first time in a long time, Eli let himself believe it.

    This one hits harder—real weight, real release. The physical touch isn’t just an extra detail—it’s part of what breaks through.

  • Already There

    Jake sat on the tailgate of Logan’s truck, staring out over the field. The last of the evening light stretched long across the grass, turning the sky soft shades of orange and blue.

    Logan stood nearby, tightening the straps on the cooler, slow and steady.

    “You ever think about how weird this is?” Jake asked.

    Logan glanced over. “What’s weird?”

    Jake exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “This. Us. The way we just… I don’t know, fit.”

    Logan raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong with fitting?”

    Jake huffed. “No. Just feels like—” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Like I didn’t sign up for this, but somehow, here we are.”

    Logan chuckled, shutting the cooler with a firm thunk. “That’s ‘cause you didn’t sign up for it.”

    Jake frowned. “What do you mean?”

    Logan leaned against the truck, arms crossed. “You think David and Jonathan planned to be brothers like that? Think they sat down, drafted up an agreement, made it official?”

    Jake smirked. “I mean, technically, Jonathan did make a covenant with David.”

    Logan nodded. “Yeah. But only ‘cause he recognized what was already there. He didn’t create it. He just stepped into what God had already done.”

    Jake was quiet for a second, letting that settle.

    Logan kept going. “A lot of men walk around thinking they’ve gotta build something like this from scratch. That if they want deep brotherhood, they’ve gotta go find it, make it happen.” He shook his head. “But covenant’s not something we manufacture. It’s something God writes into the grain—and we either step into it or we don’t.”

    Jake exhaled. “So you’re saying this—” he gestured between them—“was always gonna happen?”

    Logan shrugged. “I’m saying it was always possible. But you had to have the eyes to see it. Had to have the courage to say yes to it.”

    Jake picked at the edge of the truck bed, thoughtful. “So… I’m already in this, huh?”

    Logan smirked. “Been in it, brother. Took you long enough to notice.”

    Jake chuckled, shaking his head.

    The field stretched quiet around them. No need for more words.

    Some things don’t have to be built.

    They just have to be seen.

  • Walking It Out

    Zach sat on the park bench, stretching out his legs as he watched the sun sink lower over the trees. Tyler dropped down beside him, taking a long sip of his water.

    “You ever just feel… off?” Zach asked.

    Tyler glanced over. “How do you mean?”

    Zach shrugged. “Not like I’m doubting or anything. Just—some days, the whole celibacy thing feels easy. Other days, it feels like climbing a mountain with no summit.”

    Tyler nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

    Zach exhaled. “So what do you do when it feels like that?”

    Tyler took another sip, thinking. “Honestly? I remind myself why I’m here. Not just the why not—but the why. The bigger picture.”

    Zach smirked. “Oh, here we go. Hit me with some deep wisdom.”

    Tyler laughed. “Nah, man. I just mean… I think about what I’d actually be chasing if I wasn’t choosing this. I think about how everything else is temporary, but this—this life in Christ? This brotherhood? It’s solid.”

    Zach nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s what I keep coming back to, too.”

    They sat in silence for a moment, just taking in the stillness of the park.

    Tyler leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You ever notice how people assume celibacy is all about what we’re missing? Like we’re just out here suffering through it?”

    Zach scoffed. “All the time. Like, ‘Oh man, you’re choosing not to be with someone? That must be so miserable.’”

    Tyler grinned. “Right? But they don’t get it. It’s not just about not doing something. It’s about living for something bigger.”

    Zach was quiet for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. And the crazy thing is, even on the hard days, I wouldn’t trade it. I mean, I get to live my life fully present, not chasing the next emotional high or trying to figure out where I belong.”

    Tyler leaned back. “Exactly. And we’re not doing this alone.”

    Zach smirked. “That’s the best part.”

    Tyler grinned. “Damn straight.”

    Zach bumped his shoulder. “Careful, man. We gotta keep it holy.”

    Tyler laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Work in progress.”

    They sat there a while longer, the sun dipping behind the trees. No rush. No weight of expectation. Just two brothers, walking the road together.

    And somehow, even on the hard days, it was enough.

    This keeps the focus on living it out—not on what they left, but on why it’s worth it now.

  • The Divide

    Josh tightened his grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. The streetlights blurred past as he drove, heart pounding harder than it should over something like this.

    I should let it go.

    But he couldn’t.

    Mike’s words from earlier still echoed, sharp and unfiltered. “You don’t get it, man. You think you do, but you don’t.”

    Josh had snapped back—something about always being there, about how Mike was the one pushing people away. Things escalated, and now here they were—silence.

    Three weeks. No texts. No calls.

    Josh pulled into the diner parking lot, killed the engine, and sat there. He wasn’t even sure why he came. Maybe just to stop feeling like he was waiting.

    Inside, the place was half-empty, the hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of dishes. And then—Mike.

    Sitting in the back booth, arms crossed, staring out the window.

    Josh exhaled, ran a hand through his hair, and walked over.

    Mike looked up as he approached, his expression unreadable. He didn’t nod, didn’t wave. Just watched as Josh slid into the seat across from him.

    Neither spoke at first. The waitress came, took their orders, and left.

    Finally, Josh leaned forward. “I almost didn’t come.”

    Mike scoffed, shaking his head. “Same.”

    Josh sighed. “So what are we doing here?”

    Mike didn’t answer right away. He tapped his fingers on the table, staring down at his coffee. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to pretend like none of it happened.”

    Josh nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

    Another silence.

    Mike shifted in his seat. “You were right about some things,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “But you don’t know what it’s like to carry this…this weight.”

    Josh’s chest tightened. “Then tell me.”

    Mike glanced up, eyes wary, but something in Josh’s face must’ve told him he meant it.

    And so he did.

    He talked—about the anger he’d been holding in, the things he never said out loud. About how sometimes the weight of past struggles, of feeling different, of wanting to be known but fearing being too known—how it all built up, and Josh had just been the guy who caught the fallout.

    Josh listened. Really listened.

    And when Mike finally ran out of words, Josh just nodded. “I hear you.”

    Mike exhaled, shoulders dropping. “So where does that leave us?”

    Josh studied him for a moment. “Same place we started.”

    Mike frowned. “What does that mean?”

    Josh leaned back. “You’re still my brother.”

    Mike let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Even after all that?”

    Josh smirked. “Especially after all that.”

    The waitress came back, setting down their plates. The tension in the air had shifted—not gone, but lighter. Real.

    Mike picked up his fork, shaking his head. “You’re a stubborn idiot.”

    Josh grinned. “That’s what makes this work.”

    And just like that, the divide wasn’t so wide anymore.

  • When Brotherhood is Tested

    Brotherhood is easy when everything’s good.

    When there’s no conflict, no misunderstandings, no disappointments—sticking together feels natural.

    But what about when it’s not easy?

    What happens when your brother lets you down? When frustration builds? When something shifts, and the bond feels strained?

    This is where most friendships crack. Where the world says, Move on. Find someone else. Protect yourself.

    But covenant isn’t like the world.

    Brotherhood is meant to be for life, but that doesn’t mean it’s always smooth. Every deep bond will be tested—by conflict, by disappointment, even by betrayal.

    So what do you do when it happens?

    1. Don’t Let Discomfort Make the Decision for You

    A lot of men walk away from brotherhood not because of a real break, but because things got uncomfortable.

    • A hard conversation was needed, but neither side had it.

    • A misunderstanding went unaddressed, and resentment settled in.

    • One man expected too much, the other gave too little, and instead of adjusting, they drifted.

    Covenant doesn’t mean you never hurt each other. It means you fight through when you do.

    2. Face Conflict with Truth and Grace

    If a brother has wounded you, or if you’ve wounded him, the next move isn’t silence. It’s truth.

    • Speak honestly. Say what needs to be said.

    • But do it with grace—without assumptions, without accusations.

    • Give the same patience and mercy that you’d want to receive.

    Brotherhood requires truth. But truth without love destroys.

    3. Some Wounds Can Be Healed. Some Require Space.

    Not every conflict means the end of a bond.

    • Some wounds just need time, humility, and conversation. They can heal stronger than before.

    • Some require stepping back—not to abandon, but to let God do the work in both hearts.

    And yeah—some betrayals are deep enough that distance is needed. But even then, covenant doesn’t mean you stop praying, forgiving, or leaving the door open for restoration.

    4. When It’s Worth Fighting For, Fight For It.

    There’s a reason so many men feel isolated—it’s easier to walk away than to fight for a bond. But real brotherhood is worth it.

    So if there’s distance, reach out.

    If there’s tension, clear the air.

    If a brother is slipping, go after him.

    Because the ones who fight for each other? Those are the ones who will still be standing together years down the road.

    Brotherhood Was Meant to Last

    Jesus never said love would be easy. But He did say it would be worth it.

    Covenant isn’t just about the good times—it’s about the moments when it’s tested, when everything in you says let it go, but God says hold on.

    So when the test comes—and it will come—don’t walk away too quickly.

    Because the bonds that make it through?

    Those are the ones that last a lifetime.

  • Baptism of Freedom

    The sun climbed high, scattering warmth across the forest and the sparkling surface of the river ahead. James and Luke approached the water’s edge, their pace unhurried as the gentle gurgle of the current beckoned them. Neither had spoken much since leaving camp that morning. There was no need. The tranquility of their surroundings spoke louder than words.

    James knelt to touch the cool water, watching ripples fan out across the surface. He stood and began to peel off his shirt, the sunlight catching on the faded scars and sinew of his back—marks that told a story of battles both physical and spiritual. Luke followed suit, discarding his clothes with casual ease. They both stood there for a moment, bare and unguarded, their presence in each other’s company as natural as the trees swaying gently around them.

    Luke broke the stillness with a grin. “You’re gonna make me race you, aren’t you?”

    James chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I’d win too easily.”

    “Oh, you think so?” Luke lunged toward the water, splashing in with a loud whoop. James laughed and followed, the cold current seizing his breath before his body adjusted. They swam out to the deeper middle stretch, where the water flowed slower, languid and clear.

    Floating on his back, James gazed up at the sky. The vast blueness seemed endless, a mirror to the freedom he felt coursing through him. He hadn’t realized how heavy life had been until moments like this—moments when everything fell away, leaving only presence and peace.

    Luke surfaced beside him, shaking droplets from his hair. “Feels like a reset,” he murmured. “Like God just… washes everything away out here.”

    James nodded. “Yeah. Like a baptism.” He let his arms drift out wide in the water, surrendering to its gentle embrace. “It’s hard to explain, but this—being out here, no walls, no noise—makes me feel closer to God than anything else.”

    Luke floated beside him, silent for a moment as he took it in. “I think it’s because there’s nothing to hide behind. Just us, how God made us. No distractions.” He glanced over at James. “I never imagined I’d be able to feel this… free. Especially not with another man.”

    James turned his head to meet Luke’s eyes. There was a subtle charge between them, unspoken but understood. It wasn’t fear or tension, but something deeper—a recognition of their shared trust and vulnerability. The water seemed to cradle them both in that sacred space.

    “It’s rare,” James said softly. “But it’s good. We don’t have to be afraid of it.”

    Luke smiled, letting the words sink in. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath, submerging again. When he surfaced, he wiped water from his face and laughed quietly. “I think I’m gonna miss this place.”

    “Me too,” James agreed. “But we’ll take it with us. This peace, this connection—we’re meant to carry it forward.”

    They swam for a while longer, diving under the surface, racing each other in playful bursts, their laughter blending with the music of the river. Eventually, they returned to the shore, lying on the sun-warmed rocks to dry. Their breathing slowed, syncing with the steady rhythm of the flowing water nearby.

    “We’ll be heading back soon,” James said, breaking the peaceful quiet.

    “Yeah,” Luke replied, eyes half-closed as he soaked in the sun. “Back to life, back to the guys we’re mentoring. I feel ready, though. Like God’s given us everything we need to face it.”

    James reached over and clasped Luke’s hand briefly, a quiet affirmation of everything they had spoken and experienced over the past few days.

    “We’ve got each other,” James said.

    “And God’s got us,” Luke added.

    They remained there for a while longer, letting the simplicity of the moment anchor them. When they finally stood and gathered their clothes, the weight of responsibility no longer felt daunting. They had been renewed—by nature, by God, and by the bond that held them together.

    (Chapter from the third installment of the James and Luke series. Contact me if you’d like to read the full story or series.)

  • The Edge of the Fight

    Mike sat in his truck, engine running, hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles went white. The glow of his phone screen lit up the cab, the open app staring back at him.

    It would be easy. Just a few taps.

    He hadn’t been here in a long time—not like this. Not with the weight pressing in so hard, whispering just give in.

    He closed his eyes, breath shaky.

    What’s the point of fighting anymore?

    It wasn’t just this moment—it was the exhaustion of always fighting. Always being the one trying to resist, trying to hold the line. Tonight, something in him felt like breaking.

    The screen blurred as he hovered his thumb over the button.

    And then—his phone rang.

    Josh.

    Mike just stared at the name, pulse hammering. He could ignore it. Could let it ring out.

    But his hands moved before his mind caught up, swiping the call open.

    “Mike?” Josh’s voice was steady, no small talk, just straight to it.

    Mike swallowed, pressing his forehead against the wheel. “Yeah.”

    A pause. “Where are you?”

    Mike exhaled through his nose. “Parking lot.”

    Josh didn’t ask which one. He just knew.

    “You already in?”

    Mike squeezed his eyes shut. “Not yet.”

    Silence stretched between them. Then Josh spoke, voice firm. “You’re not alone.”

    Mike let out a bitter breath. “Sure feels like it.”

    “You think that’s an accident?” Josh shot back. “You think that voice in your head is yours? That exhaustion, that pull—it ain’t just struggle, brother. It’s war. And you’re not fighting it alone.”

    Mike’s jaw clenched. His grip on the wheel tightened. He wanted to believe that. But right now, the weight felt so heavy.

    Josh’s voice came softer now. “Look, man. I know you’re tired. I know this fight feels like it’ll never end. But listen to me—this is not who you are. You’re not some lost man, crawling back to the pit. You are my brother. And I will not let you sit in this alone.”

    Mike’s throat tightened.

    “You want to sit there in silence, fine,” Josh said. “I’ll sit with you. But you’re not walking into that place, and you’re not going under. Not tonight.”

    Mike gritted his teeth. He felt the pull, still there. Still strong. But something else was there now too—a hand gripping his collar, refusing to let go.

    For the first time that night, the weight shifted.

    He inhaled. “Yeah. Okay.”

    Josh’s voice held steady. “Let’s go. I’ll meet you at the diner in ten. Coffee’s on me.”

    Mike nodded, even though Josh couldn’t see him. His hand hovered over the phone for a second—then he closed the app, threw the phone onto the passenger seat, and shifted the truck into gear.

    He pulled out of the parking lot. Out of the fight—for now.

    And not alone.

  • Firelight Rite

    The logs cracked and shifted, sending sparks into the night air. Nathan sat across from the fire, arms resting on his knees, eyes locked on the flames. The heat flickered against his face, but the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with the cold.

    Caleb sat beside him, rolling a stone in his palm, quiet. He’d been quiet most of the night, letting Nathan wrestle with whatever he wasn’t saying.

    Finally, Caleb spoke. “You ever notice how fire changes wood?”

    Nathan frowned, looking up. “What?”

    “The heat pulls something out of it. You can hear it—the sap hissing, the cracks forming. It burns, but it becomes something different.” Caleb turned the stone between his fingers. “A lot of guys think they just wake up one day as men. Like time will do the work for them. But that’s not how it happens.”

    Nathan looked back at the flames, swallowing. “Then how does it happen?”

    Caleb didn’t answer right away. He stood, grabbed a thick branch from the pile beside them, and tossed it into the fire. The bark sizzled, blackening, flame curling up its sides. “It happens when you go through something. When other men see you, speak into you, and won’t let you sit in doubt.”

    He turned to Nathan. “You don’t become a man by accident, brother. You step into it.” He held Nathan’s gaze. “And you’re ready.”

    Nathan exhaled. His hands clenched, then released.

    No one had ever said that to him before.

    Caleb reached into his pack and pulled out a knife. He flipped it open, then grabbed a thick piece of wood from the pile. “Mark it,” he said, handing the blade to Nathan.

    Nathan hesitated. “Mark what?”

    “This moment,” Caleb said. “Right here, right now. You’re stepping in. Make it real.”

    Nathan turned the knife in his palm, feeling its weight. He looked down at the wood, rough and unshaped, then glanced at Caleb. He wasn’t joking. Wasn’t explaining. Just waiting.

    Nathan pressed the blade against the surface and started to carve. He didn’t overthink it. Didn’t try to make it perfect. Just let the knife bite into the grain, cutting something real into what had been blank.

    When he was done, he sat back, staring at what he had made. It wasn’t much—just a symbol, a word, something only he and God would understand. But it was there. And it was his.

    Caleb leaned forward, nodding. “That’s it.” His voice was steady, sure. “You are a man, Nathan. No more waiting. No more questioning. Walk in it.”

    Nathan swallowed hard.

    The fire cracked again, and something in his chest cracked with it.

    He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

    He just nodded. And for the first time, he felt it.

  • Brotherhood as the Missing Rite of Passage

    Some men were initiated into manhood. Most of us weren’t.

    We never had that moment—the one that said, You are a man now. Step into it. We just kept moving forward, hoping that at some point, it would click.

    But it never really did.

    The world tells us that manhood just happens when we turn 18, or when we hit certain milestones—first job, first car, marriage, fatherhood. But deep down, we know that’s not how it works.

    We don’t need another achievement to feel like men. We need other men to call us forward. And more than that—we need Christ to define us first.

    Brotherhood Restores What Was Lost

    The ancient rites of passage weren’t just about a challenge—they were about witnesses. Older men stood around the younger and said, We see you. You have passed the test. You are one of us now.

    That’s what covenant brotherhood does.

    • It doesn’t leave a man to figure it out alone. It calls him up—through challenge, truth, and trust.

    • It doesn’t measure him by worldly standards. It confirms what God already placed in him.

    • It doesn’t let him sit in doubt. It names him as a man and holds him accountable to live as one.

    But even brotherhood is incomplete without the One who created it.

    Christ is the True Initiator

    Before any man can call us forward, before we can walk in covenant with our brothers, we need to hear it from God Himself.

    “You are my son.”

    “You belong to Me.”

    “Your manhood is not fragile—it is rooted in Me.”

    Christ is the One who restores what was lost. But He doesn’t do it in isolation—He places us in brotherhood, because manhood was never meant to be lived alone.

    It’s Not Too Late

    Brotherhood is the road back to initiation. It’s not about recreating old rituals—it’s about stepping into a circle of men who won’t let you drift, won’t let you doubt, and won’t let you stay passive.

    It’s about walking with men who challenge you, not to prove yourself, but because they already see the man God made you to be.

    And once you have that? You do the same for another. Because manhood isn’t just about being called up. It’s about calling others up too.

  • When Do You Become a Man?

    There was a time when a boy knew when he became a man.

    He didn’t have to wonder. There was a moment—whether through trial, initiation, or the voice of older men—when it was spoken over him. You are a man now. Step into it.

    Now? Most men never hear those words. They just drift into adulthood, hoping that one day they’ll feel different, but they never do.

    We’ve lost something vital.

    Manhood Was Never Meant to Be a Guessing Game

    In most cultures throughout history, men didn’t just stumble into manhood—they were called into it. Sometimes it was through a test of endurance, sometimes a sacred ritual, sometimes a hard-earned responsibility. But whatever it was, it left no doubt:

    The boy was gone. The man had stepped forward.

    But today? There’s no clear line. No defining moment. Boys grow older, but they don’t become men—they just age into them.

    And the result? A generation of men who feel like they’re still waiting for permission to become what they were made to be.

    Without Initiation, Men Drift

    • Some chase achievement, hoping that success will finally make them feel like men.

    • Some chase women, thinking masculinity is proven through conquest.

    • Some stay passive, unsure, never stepping up because no one ever told them they were ready.

    Deep down, every man wants to know he is one. But no one tells him. No one confirms it. So he keeps waiting.

    It’s Not Too Late to Step In

    Brother, if you never had that moment—if no one ever called you up—you are not stuck. You don’t have to keep drifting, waiting for someone to hand you manhood like a diploma.

    Here’s the truth:

    • God has already named you a man. He created you as one. You don’t need to prove it—you need to step into it.

    • Manhood isn’t given in isolation. Other men confirm it. That’s why covenant brotherhood matters. You need men who will say, Brother, you belong. We see you. Walk in it.

    • You may not have had a rite of passage—but you can mark the moment now. Maybe it’s a challenge, a commitment, a moment before God where you declare, No more waiting. No more drifting. I will walk in who I am.

    Manhood Is Meant to Be Stepped Into

    You were never meant to spend your life wondering if you are a man. If no one ever told you—hear it now:

    You are a man. God made you one. Step into it.

    And if you’ve already walked this road? Then look behind you. There’s a younger brother who is still waiting to hear what no one ever told him. Call him up. Show him the way.

    Because manhood isn’t just about becoming. It’s about calling others forward.

  • Campfire Reflection

    The fire crackled softly, sending gentle waves of warmth across the clearing. The sky above was moonless, filled with stars that shimmered like scattered jewels. James and Luke sat on either side of the flames, their faces flickering in the shifting light. Around them, the quiet of the night felt sacred, wrapping them in stillness. It was their favorite kind of moment—time carved out for rest, reflection, and the kind of conversation that came naturally now, after years of sharing their lives with one another.

    James stirred the fire with a stick, sending sparks dancing upward. “Remember that first retreat?” he asked, his voice contemplative. “When we sat by the fire and talked about who we were trying to be—what it meant to be a man?”

    Luke gave a slow nod, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Feels like a lifetime ago. We were both carrying so much back then, weren’t we?”

    James leaned back against a log, exhaling deeply. “Still are, in some ways. But I think… I think some of that shame isn’t as heavy anymore. At least, not in the same way.”

    Luke tilted his head, his blue eyes reflecting the firelight. “Yeah. I hear you. I used to feel like I was drowning in it. I thought I had to fight those feelings alone—pretend they didn’t exist. And when I couldn’t, the shame just kept piling on. Especially after my marriage ended. I thought I was a failure as a man and as a Christian.”

    James nodded slowly. “I carried that same shame for years. Especially when it came to my attraction to other men. It was like this deep, unrelenting fear that something was fundamentally broken inside me—that I’d never be enough.”

    Luke’s gaze softened, his expression understanding. “I know. And I remember how hard it was for you to even say those words out loud. But now… here you are, saying it with peace in your voice. That’s God’s work, man.”

    James smiled faintly. “Yeah, He’s done a lot. I’m still learning to trust that I’m seen through His eyes, not through the lens of my past. I used to think God saw me the way I saw myself—ashamed, afraid, disconnected. But slowly, He’s been undoing those lies.”

    Luke poked at the fire with a long branch, sending embers flaring. “Same here. For a long time, I felt like intimacy—real intimacy—was something I’d never have. Not with anyone. I’d built so many walls, even with you at first.”

    “I remember,” James said quietly. “But those walls are coming down. Little by little.”

    Luke chuckled softly. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The world has all these boxes for what relationships are supposed to look like—friendship, romance, family. But what we have… it doesn’t fit any of that neatly. And that used to scare me. But now? I don’t care how the world sees it. I know what this is.”

    “Same here,” James agreed. He leaned forward, the firelight illuminating the quiet conviction in his eyes. “We’ve built something sacred. A covenant, in every way that matters. It’s not always easy, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

    Luke nodded slowly. “It’s like… Jonathan and David, right? The kind of bond where you know, deep down, God brought you together for a purpose. There’s a depth to it that can’t really be explained.”

    “Exactly,” James said with a soft smile. “We’ve been through the fire, and it’s refined us—not broken us. That’s a testament to grace.”

    They sat in companionable silence for a while, the fire crackling softly between them. The warmth of their brotherhood, their shared story, filled the quiet space. James stretched his legs out, letting out a contented sigh.

    “You ever think about how different life would be if we hadn’t met at that retreat?” he asked.

    Luke shook his head. “I try not to. Because honestly? I don’t think I’d have made it through some of the things I’ve faced since then without you. God knew what He was doing when He brought us together.”

    “Yeah,” James murmured, his voice full of quiet gratitude. “He really did.”

    Luke glanced over at him, a faint grin on his face. “So… think we’ll ever fully ‘arrive’? You know, figure it all out?”

    James laughed softly. “Probably not. But maybe that’s the point. We don’t have to have it all figured out. We just have to keep trusting, keep walking the path.”

    “Together,” Luke added, his voice steady.

    “Together,” James echoed.

    They watched the fire slowly die down, the flames shrinking into glowing embers. The night around them deepened, but neither of them felt the weight of loneliness anymore. They had learned to carry their burdens—and each other—with grace.

    As the fire faded to soft, pulsing coals, James leaned back once more and gazed at the stars. Luke remained close, their shared silence a reflection of the peace that had taken root in both of their souls.

    This was brotherhood. This was healing. This was enough.

    (Chapter from a longer story about James and Luke, first story in a trilogy about these two characters. Contact me if you’d like to read the full story.)

  • Giving the Wound to Christ

    Brother, if you’ve seen the wound, named the lie, and know the truth in your head—but still feel the weight of it—this is for you.

    It’s one thing to recognize the wound. It’s another to give it to Christ and let Him redeem it. But what does that actually look like?

    Here’s where it starts:

    1. Stop Trying to Fix It Yourself

    We’ve spent years trying to prove our masculinity—trying to overcome the wound by being “man enough.” But healing doesn’t come through striving. It comes through surrender.

    That means admitting:

    “Lord, I can’t fix this. I’ve believed lies about myself for years, and I need You to replace them with truth.”

    That alone is hard. Because it means trusting His definition of us more than our own feelings, memories, or past experiences.

    2. Bring the Wound Into the Light

    Wounds fester in silence. The enemy wants you to keep it locked inside, to believe it’s just your burden to bear. But when you name it before God—when you bring it to a trusted brother, even—something shifts.

    When Jesus healed, He often asked, “What do you want Me to do for you?” Not because He didn’t know, but because naming it was part of the healing.

    So we bring it into the light:

    “Lord, I have believed I am less of a man. I have felt like I don’t belong. I give this to You—show me the truth.”

    And then, we listen. We let Him speak into it.

    3. Let God Redefine You Through Brotherhood

    Christ redeems our wounds, but He often does it through the hands and words of our brothers.

    When a brother sees you, challenges you, calls you his equal—not out of pity, but because he sees the man God made you to be—that’s healing in motion.

    You don’t become a man by proving yourself. You are a man because God made you one. The more you walk in real covenant, the more that truth sinks in.

    4. Walk in the Truth Before You Fully Feel It

    Here’s the hard part—choosing to believe what God says about you, even before your emotions catch up.

    That means when the old wound whispers, You don’t belong, you answer, That’s a lie. I am a son.

    When you feel like you’re on the outside looking in, you step in anyway. When brotherhood feels like something other men get, you stand in it as your birthright.

    Truth isn’t a feeling. It’s reality. And when we choose to walk in it, the wounds that once defined us start to fade.

    Brother, you don’t have to carry this alone. Christ is already in the work of redeeming it. You just have to give it to Him—again and again, until His truth is more real than the lies ever were.

    And He will finish what He started.