Saints and Sawdust

Christian men need real-life mentors, not the manosphere.

Personal photo, 2025

I never know what to say when someone tells me that a loved one has died. This was especially true the morning that Greg, a retired man from my church, came over to help me build steps to my front porch. Shortly after arriving, he told me his mother had passed away the night before.

I felt humbled that he’d still come out, but there was a guilt-like twinge, a part of me that wished he’d just postponed our work plans. Keeping my words few, I acknowledged his loss. Then I assured him that the project could wait. But of course he already knew that and had chosen to show up anyway. For Greg, grieving with a tool in hand may have felt as right as such a thing possibly can. A long-time elder at a small-town Montana church, he’d made about a dozen trips to Louisiana to be part of the rebuilding after Hurricane Katrina. Helping people was like breathing to him.

I think of men like Greg when I read about the popularity of the online “manosphere.” That’s because he—and other unassuming servants found in every church I’ve known—are what young men chasing a vision of manhood actually need.

What is the manosphere, exactly? Think of it as a collection of online gathering places for men fed up with masculinity being dismissed as “toxic.” Merriam-Webster offers a sneering definition that inadvertently lets slip the phenomenon’s appeal:

The manosphere refers to male-centered websites, Internet communities, and other digital media regarded collectively as espousing anti-feminist views, typically involving misogyny and associated with far-right ideologies.

When the shaming of young men has become so baked into a culture that even a dictionary drips with disdain, the result is predictable. Of course online communities that flip that script would find a following. In our day, traditional male roles have been upended, and good-paying jobs often involve long hours sitting in cubicles. Yet men still want adventure, risk, and empowerment. And when a society belittles the men who seek those things, they turn to the Andrew Tates of the world.

Of course, if you know anything about Andrew Tate, you won’t be surprised that much of the manosphere is in fact morally appalling (and if you don’t know anything about him, leave it that way). Some Christians argue that parts of the manosphere have redeeming value, and that there’s more to it than carnality and vice. I’m sure this is true. After all, when one person says a particular city is amazing and another claims it’s miserable, both can be right. It depends on what neighborhood you visit.

And yet, even some Christian corners of the online men’s world elicit warnings. If you’re familiar with

Rod Dreher

, you’ll know he’s not exactly a feminist. Yet consider what he says near the end of this recent post. This quote is a response to a long excerpt, and it reads a little weird without the context, but the point is clear:

The Bible is not a very old copy of Maxim. Great line. . .this describes why I advise any young men interested in Orthodoxy to stay away from most of the Orthodox internet. I have also seen the same kind of thing on Catholic and Reformed sites dominated by men. It’s repugnant.

So, there’s plenty of sewage out there. And some of it, apparently, streams right past cathedrals. But let’s say you find a mens’ community online that really does offer the good, the true, and the beautiful. Wouldn’t your hours there still be better spent in the real world alongside men like Greg? Consider what Mark’s gospel says about Jesus and his disciples:

And he appointed twelve (whom he also named apostles) so that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach.

Mark 3:14

We remember the apostles’ preaching. We recall their courage, and we marvel at their miracles. But we can forget that those things were only possible because of the time they spent with Jesus.

Sadly today, too many men aren’t spending time with anyone. A recent survey found that thirty years ago most men (55%) had at least six close friends. Today, half as many do (27%). Fifteen percent of men now say they have no close friendships at all. It’s not coincidental that the manosphere thrives in an age of lonely men.

And internet culture not only fuels loneliness. It also disconnects us from our bodies and physical reality. In contrast, masculinity is commonly associated with the ability to reshape the physical world around you. In other words, sure, there are masculine artists, thinkers, and bookkeepers. But carpentry is inherently manly.

At which point, we can turn to the forgotten men of the church. Greg happened to have been a leader in the local congregation, but many of the men with trades and skills to pass on are not. When young Christians come to see these men as potential mentors, it’s a win-win. Men who previously felt overlooked suddenly discover they’re valued. Meanwhile, young men build confidence and gain valuable skills. And there are few better ways for a bond to form between two men.

But for any of that to happen, somebody often has to start by humbling himself. And for some of us, that takes a reminder. For me, in my story with Greg, my wife provided that. The porch steps project started with the discovery of wasps shortly after we bought that home. They had a bunch of nests under a ramp that originally led up to the porch, and they’d swarm us when we tried to eat out there. But there was no way to get underneath it to deal with them.

Removing the ramp with a Sawzall was a blast. But tearing things down is always easier than building. I hadn’t put steps in before. So, I watched some Youtube videos, drew up a plan, and bought the materials. Then I spent a couple more weeks watching videos and procrastinating.

“Why don’t you just ask Greg for help?” my wife finally asked me.

What a brilliant idea.