Last Thursday on Honestly with Bari Weiss, Weiss asked Louise Perry a pressing question: “How do we bring [heroic masculinity] back without bringing back toxic masculinity?” The conversation had turned to figures like Andrew Tate—men who promise strength and dominance but instead promote toxicity and misogyny.
Perry, in her book The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, has done the hard work of deconstructing modern sexual ethics, recognizing that the sexual revolution has largely benefited men while leaving women more vulnerable and unhappy. Now describing herself as an "agnostic Christian" who has started attending church, she acknowledges that a return to a Christian sexual ethic offers women greater protection and security. But when it comes to answering the masculinity crisis—what it looks like to restore heroic manhood without falling into abuse or regression—Louise hesitated.
"I don’t know," she admitted. "I mean, it has to be, I guess..."
Ironically, Louise had spent the earlier parts of the interview creeping toward the answer. She had spoken about the early Christian sexual revolution—a radical shift in the ancient world that protected female infants from the common practice of infanticide, elevated women to equal worth with men, and called men to a novel standard of chastity. Unlike the Roman ideal of masculinity, which was built on dominance and conquest, Christianity demanded that men use their strength to serve and protect the vulnerable. It was a system that not only safeguarded women but also reshaped the very meaning of masculinity itself.
Yet, when asked how to recover this kind of heroic manhood today, she struggled to give a clear answer.
That said, Perry already has the answer. The model of true manhood is, and has always been, Jesus Christ.
We don’t need to reinvent masculinity. We don’t need a new Andrew Tate, nor do we need to erase masculinity altogether. What we need is a return to cruciform masculinity—a strength that serves, a power that protects, and a leadership that sacrifices.
Modern culture paints masculinity in extremes. On one side, masculinity is toxic—something to be suppressed, softened, or erased. On the other, masculinity is brutal, aggressive, and dominant—something to be weaponized. The result? A generation of men is confused about what they’re supposed to be.
But Jesus offers a different vision. He was neither passive nor oppressive. He was fierce yet gentle, authoritative yet humble. He protected the weak, challenged corruption, and served the outcast. His strength was not wielded for his own gain but for the good of others. And he ultimately laid down his life—not out of weakness, but out of the greatest strength of all: the strength to love sacrificially.
In fact, much of our concept of heroism in the West has been shaped by Christ. The hero’s journey—where strength is used not for domination but for service—is not only from Hollywood or mythology. It was embodied most fully in Christ, who redefined greatness as laying down one’s life for a friend. This is why Perry and Weiss’ longing for “heroic” masculinity is truly a longing for cruciform masculinity—because true heroism has always been about sacrifice, and there is no greater sacrifice than the cross.
If we want to revive heroic masculinity, we don’t need more self-proclaimed alpha males—we need more men shaped by Christ.
And it turns out the data backs this up.
Sociologist Brad Wilcox’s studies, highlighted in Nancy Pearcey’s The Toxic War on Masculinity, reveal what many in the secular world fail to acknowledge: actively practicing Christian men are the best husbands, fathers, and community members. They have the happiest wives, who report higher levels of marital satisfaction and appreciation. They are the least likely to cheat on their wives or commit domestic violence. They spend more quality time with their children and engage with them more meaningfully. They are warmer, more affectionate, and more involved fathers than their secular counterparts.
But it is crucial to distinguish between actively practicing Christians and nominal Christians—those who identify culturally but do not actually follow Christ. The data shows that nominal Christian men perform far worse in these categories than even non-religious men. Thus, the data points us to an important reality: cultural Christianity cannot save masculinity. Or, as Mark Sayers puts it, "You can't get the kingdom without the King."
In the first sexual revolution, it wasn't culturally conditioned Christians who lived lives of heroic masculinity but those who had a personal and real relationship with Jesus, the one they believed had truly lived, died, resurrected, and ascended to God's throne.
In other words, the type of masculinity Perry wants to see in our world is not the fruit of a cultural Christianity, which she currently prescribes to herself, but the fruit of the one act that I pray she would more deeply consider—genuinely surrendering to the King.
And this cruciform masculinity isn’t just theoretical or historical—it’s also present today.
It was evident in Ohio State’s football team, where, as Scott Van Pelt and Rece Davis noticed, faith in their “Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” led players to play selflessly, sacrifice for one another, and put the team above themselves. It was displayed in Corey Comperatore, a volunteer firefighter and weekly churchgoer who, during the Trump assassination attempt, instinctively shielded his family in a moment of crisis, laying down his life without hesitation.
And perhaps, as Perry continues to attend church, it’s present there, too. The men who serve quietly. The ones who show up early to set up chairs, those who work in children’s ministry, and those who stand alongside their brothers in prayer. They don’t seek dominance. They don’t seek attention. They aren’t trying to go viral with hot takes on masculinity.
But they are the answer to her question.
Their strength is not for power, but for service. Not for control, but for love. Not for status, but for sacrifice.
This is Christ’s masculinity embodied. And it’s precisely what the world needs.
To return to Weiss’s question: How do we bring back heroic masculinity without bringing back toxic masculinity?
It’s not a mystery. The answer is through following Jesus Christ—and history has shown us that when men truly follow him, they become better men, better husbands, better fathers, and better leaders.
Maybe the problem isn’t that we have too much masculinity. Maybe we don’t have enough of the right kind. We need more men shaped by the sacrificial love of Christ. More men who know their power is for protecting, not exploiting. More men called to a greater story than their own success.
And maybe that’s why Gen Z men like me are staying in church. In a culture that is confused about our purpose, the church tells us we are responsible, needed, and called to something higher. We are looking for purpose, direction, and identity—and we are finding it in the example of Jesus.
I know Perry describes herself as a Christian agnostic, still uncertain in her belief. But perhaps, in her search for the answer to this question, she is closer to faith than she realizes.
Because the answer is right in front of her—and us.
And he has a name.
Jesus.
