EXPOSED: The Truth About “Biblical Man”

In light of recent events I thought it would be a good time to repost this from the archives.

This week my husband made a mistake.

He allowed someone else’s work (he was inspired by) to influence a couple of posts he wrote too closely. He has apologized for the wrong, taken ownership of not giving the original author the proper credit, and reached out privately to that individual.

We strive to use this platform as a ministry to glorify God in all things….But, there are going to be times we make mistakes, this was one of those times.

We are both human.

Please don’t hold us as the gold standard, we will fall, fail, sin, and disappoint you….but we hope through our writing you see that we strive to point you to THE ONE who will never fail, sin, or disappoint you—Our Lord & Savior Jesus Christ.

I wrote the following post last year when someone on Substack wanted to come after my husband and make broad statements about who he is as a person—when they don’t even know him as a person.

I do.

He’s a man. A real man. One who makes mistakes. One who takes responsibility for his mistakes…and most importantly one who always gets back up.

From the Archives:

What twenty-three years have taught me…

There’s a kind of clarity that only comes with time.

Not the kind that shows up in the heat of an argument or in the urgency of defending someone you love.

This kind is slower.

It accumulates in quiet places, shows up in the way you notice little things, settles in like morning dew.

And one day, you wake up and realize just how soaked through the ground is with years of steady knowing.

Someone recently spent quite a bit of time online telling people who my husband is.

Mind you this individual has never even met my husband, or even had conversation with him.

So I thought maybe it was time you heard from someone who’s actually shared a home, a bed, a whole life with him for more than two decades.

They called him artificial.

I’ve seen him weep before the sun came up over a sermon he was preparing for Church—tears no one else ever saw.

I’ve seen him give up comfort, give up sleep, give up his own plans, just to be present for our children.

Not for applause, not for a platform.

Just because they needed their dad.

That kind of love doesn’t get manufactured.

I’ve watched him pray for strangers who would never know his name.

I’ve seen him work until his hands were cracked and raw just so we would have what we needed.

If staying true to what he believes looks robotic to some, maybe that says more about what they’ve grown used to than it does about him.

He’s been building something steady for years.

Not just with his words, but with his life.

In our children.

In our home.

In our local church.

In the lives of the men and women who’ve written to thank him for saying the things they needed to hear.

For showing up, week after week, with something grounded and true.

We get messages.

From men who say they found their backbone again.

From young women who say they finally understand what biblical womanhood means.

From families who found their way back to each other.

They don’t know him the way I do, but they know the fruit.

And a tree is still known by its fruit.

Some say he’s too harsh.

That his words cut too deep.

But I’ve seen the same hands that type those words wipe our children’s tears in the middle of the night.

I’ve seen them hold back hair while our children were sick in the night.

I’ve seen them hold tiny hands as he danced with his tiny daughters in the living room, twirling them like a little princess so they feel loved and cherished.

His hands have held mine as I labored to bring our children into the world.

They’ve held mine through hardship and loss, when I didn’t know what to pray.

I’ve listened to him enthusiastically tell bedtime stories (that he makes up as he goes along) to our five tiny kids while they cling to each word.

I’ve watched him serve people who stayed too long, who asked too much, who couldn’t give anything back.

And I’ve watched him do it with a willing heart.

Some people just don’t know what real strength looks like.

When you’ve only ever been surrounded by chaos, order can feel cold.

When you’ve never seen faithfulness up close, you don’t always recognize it when it stands in front of you.

And when you’ve spent your life waiting for the other shoe to drop, someone who just keeps showing up every day can seem too good to be true.

But I know the difference.

I know what real love looks like.

I know what daily, unseen, faithful obedience looks like.

I know what it is to be married to a man who has never once made me feel like I had to question where I stood with him.

And I know how rare that is.

Twenty-three years is a long time.

I’ve seen this man sick.

I’ve seen him injured.

I’ve seen him struggle and fall.

I’ve seen him get back up.

I’ve seen him discouraged.

I’ve seen him count the cost, and always show up.

I’ve seen him handle heartbreak and hold his peace when he was right and no one saw it.

I’ve watched him mourn a relationship with his extended family because they refuse to accept our dedication to the Lord, His Word, and serving in our local church.

I’ve watched him live what he preaches behind closed doors.

And that’s where it counts.

People online will say what they want.

But if you want to know a man’s character, look at his children.

Watch his wife.

Pay attention to how he lives when no one’s watching.

You don’t have to agree with everything he writes.

I don’t.

But if you’ve ever wondered whether the man behind the screen is real, I can tell you without hesitation—he is.

He’s not perfect.

But he’s steady.

He’s faithful.

And he means what he says.

That’s more than enough for me.

It’s been enough for twenty-three years.

And Lord willing, it’ll be enough for plenty more.

Setting the Record Straight,

Biblical Womanhood