This is not love

This is not love—
not the kind God ever spoke of.
Not the kind that leaves bruises
where hands were meant to heal,
not the kind that silences a voice
He Himself called worthy to be heard.
Because how can you say you love her
when your love makes her afraid?
How can you claim strength
when it is only ever shown
against someone who trusted you
enough to be soft?
We were not made for this.
As men—
we were not shaped by God
to become storms in the lives of women,
but shelters.
Not fists,
but hands that lift.
Not voices that break,
but voices that protect.
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
— Bible
And tell me—
would you strike yourself
the way some strike her?
Would you tear down your own spirit,
shatter your own peace,
make your own home feel like a battlefield?
Then why her?
She is not less.
She is not yours to control,
to silence,
to diminish.
She is someone’s daughter,
someone’s prayer answered,
someone God formed
with the same care
He used when He formed you.
“In everything, do to others
what you would have them do to you.”
— Bible
But this—
this violence,
this anger disguised as authority—
it is not of Him.
Because Christ—
Jesus Christ—
never raised His hand in harm.
He knelt.
He healed.
He protected the woman
others were ready to stone,
and said,
“Let any one of you who is without sin
be the first to throw a stone.”
So who are we
to raise hands
when even He
chose mercy?
This is not just her pain—
it is a wound
bleeding through our homes,
through our streets,
through the very soul of who we are
as men.
Because every time
a woman is broken,
something in us breaks too—
something sacred,
something God-given,
something we were meant to protect
but failed to.
And silence—
silence makes us guilty.
Silence is standing in the shadows
while darkness does its work.
Silence is watching
and calling it “not my business”
while someone else’s daughter
is praying to survive the night.
We cannot be silent anymore.
We cannot call ourselves men of God
and look away
from the suffering of His daughters.
“Husbands, love your wives,
just as Christ loved the church
and gave Himself up for her.”
— Bible
Gave Himself—
not took from her,
not broke her,
not diminished her light—
but gave.
Sacrificed.
Loved in a way
that made her stronger,
not smaller.
So rise.
Not in anger—
but in truth.
Call it out when you see it.
Stand in the way
when harm approaches.
Be the voice
that refuses to let violence
hide behind culture,
behind pride,
behind excuses.
Be the man
who understands
that real strength
is not control—
it is protection.
It is gentleness
in a world that has forgotten
how powerful that is.
Because one day,
we will answer
for how we loved,
for how we protected,
for how we chose
to either reflect Christ—
or ignore Him.
And may it never be said
that we stood by
while women suffered
in silence.
May it be said instead
that we rose—
that we became the kind of men
God intended—
men who love deeply,
protect fiercely,
and never,
ever,
raise a hand
where it was meant
to hold.