The term Christian Nationalism has become a lightning rod—sparking debate, confusion, and in some corners, outright panic. For some, it's a hopeful vision for rebuilding Christian civilization. For others, it's a bogeyman conjured up to label faithful men as dangerous extremists.

In our most recent episode of The Patriarchy Podcast, I sat down with Pastor Richard Lusk to cut through the hysteria and speak plainly about what Christian Nationalism is, where the battle lines are, and why so many people—even within the church—are afraid of it.

When Roe v. Wade fell, many Christians thought the war was over. Headlines screamed victory. Politicians claimed credit. Churches cheered. And yet, babies are still being murdered every single day under the protection of law.

Why? Because compromise has rotted the foundation of the so-called “pro-life movement.”

I was eight or nine the first time my dad set me alone in the woods before dawn.
It was pitch black. Cold. Quiet. The kind of quiet where every crack of a twig makes your heartbeat thump in your ears.

The night before, my dad and uncles had been swapping stories about bears and mountain lions—because of course they did. So when the growling started behind me, I was sure this was it. Something big. Something deadly.

I was frozen, too afraid to move. The growl got louder. Closer.
When the sun finally crept over the ridge, I could just make out a shape moving in the shadows. I braced myself for the attack.

Somewhere along the way, a dangerous idea crept into the Church—an idea that says if you're not selling your house, moving overseas, and blogging from a jungle hut, you're not a real Christian. That to truly follow Christ, you must go to the nations, or you're disobeying His call.

Let’s be honest—Christian men are full of opinions.

They post memes. They read books. They listen to podcasts (thank you, by the way). They rant about the state of the world, complain about the government, and gripe about the church going soft.

And most of them will die having done absolutely nothing.

No action. No risk. No sacrifice. Just noise.

But every now and then, God raises up a man who isn’t content to sit in the bleachers.

I’m bored of education.

Not because learning is boring—but because the modern education system has become a factory of fools. It produces weak men and bitter women. It catechizes children to hate their fathers, their faith, and their heritage. The public school system is not neutral. It is not passive. It is a discipleship program run by the state, and its chief aim is to shape your children into servants—not of Christ, but of the regime.

As a pastor, a father of eight, and a man under the authority of God, I refuse to hand my children over to Pharaoh. And I believe you shouldn’t either.

The very mention of the Crusades sends many modern Christians into a theological tailspin. Say the word and watch the pearl-clutching begin. “But what about the indulgences?” “Didn’t they sack Constantinople?” “Wasn’t it just Roman Catholic superstition?”

A couple of summers ago, Mark Cox, Aaron Sabie, and I stood on the hot asphalt of downtown Indianapolis, Bibles in hand, as the Pride parade marched past. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of sunscreen and cheap perfume. Rainbow banners flapped from every float. Half-naked men waved to the crowd. Mothers held toddlers on their hips, clapping as drag queens blew kisses from the back of trucks.

We were there to preach the gospel. To plead with people who, whether they realized it or not, were celebrating their own destruction.

We stood on the curb, holding out tracts and calling out scripture as float after float passed by. A few people heckled us. Some just smirked and looked away. Others stopped to argue. Almost nobody wanted to talk about what this all costs. What it costs the body. What it costs the soul. What it costs a nation.

But near the end of the parade, there was one float that didn’t dance or blare pop music. It was a hearse. A funeral home had decided to participate, to show their support, and on top of the hearse was a casket draped in a rainbow flag.

That image stuck with me—more than any of the glitter or slogans. Because if there was ever an unintentional confession, that was it. The parade ends in death.

Welcome to the cage stage.

This is a real phenomenon. It happens to men all the time. Zeal explodes, wisdom hasn’t caught up, and suddenly you're the guy no one wants to sit next to at Bible study. But don’t worry. You’re not alone. Every man who takes truth seriously has walked through this.

The problem isn't the zeal. It’s the lack of wisdom. This article will walk you through the stages of the cage stage and help you grow into the kind of man who can wield truth without leaving a trail of scorched earth. We don’t want to destroy your zeal. We want to discipline it. Train it. So it strikes precise blows for God's glory.

his is the story of real men. Gritty, hard-nosed, God-fearing men. Men who stood their ground when kings bowed to tyranny. Men who sharpened iron against iron, fought in the streets, and drafted one of the most powerful doctrinal documents the Church has ever known.

You say you love Jesus. But your Bible is closed. That dog won't hunt.

We live in a time of biblical illiteracy so deep and wide it makes the Mississippi look like a creek. Men scroll for hours. Argue theology in Facebook comment sections. Preach politics at the dinner table. But ask them to open the Word of God, and suddenly they don't know where to start. Or worse, they don't even try.

Let me make this plain: You can't lead your family, fight sin, or stand against the tide of this godless age with a sheathed sword. You want to be a man of God? Open the Book. Read it. Let it cut you, feed you, and shape you.

We don’t need to apologize for what God did.

To love your people—your kin, your culture, your land—isn’t hatred. It’s natural affection. It’s what any sane man feels for his own house. You’re not a bigot because you want to raise your children in the traditions of your fathers. You’re not wicked because you grieve the dilution or destruction of your nation. In fact, if you don’t feel that, you’ve probably been discipled by the world instead of the Word.

Let’s bring it home. Literally.

• Do you stop leading your wife when she’s upset?

• Do your kids know that throwing a tantrum is how they win arguments?

• Have you been guilted into silence in your church or job by some emotional sob story?

If you answered yes, you’re not leading—you’re reacting. That’s not strength. It’s surrender with a smile.

You know the cycle.

You get fired up, clean out the pantry, download a meal plan, maybe even throw a few hundred bucks at a gym membership. For a week or two, you’re locked in—waking up early, eating clean, feeling strong. Then it hits.

Stress at work. A sick kid. A late-night fast-food run when you’re too tired to cook. The next morning, the scale mocks you. And suddenly, the fire’s gone. You’re right back where you started—tired, bloated, disappointed.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

This cycle is the slow death of modern men. It’s not just physical—it’s spiritual. It’s not just about food—it’s about purpose.

And if you’re sick of the spiral, it’s time to stop chasing motivation and start building your health on something unshakable: the glory of God.

Let’s be honest. For many Christian families, youth sports are the new religion.

They dress the part. They tithe to travel leagues. They worship the idol of success. And the Lord’s Day? That’s just one more slot in the tournament bracket.

Don’t fool yourself. This isn’t neutral. This is liturgy. It’s catechism. And it’s preaching to your kids louder than your devotions ever will.

But here’s the thing, men—it doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to throw the whole thing out just because the world corrupted it. God didn’t give your son strong legs and a sharp arm so he could waste it on Minecraft. The answer isn’t withdrawal—it’s dominion.

The test is coming. For many, it’s already here. Some men will kneel. Others will run. But the faithful will stand.

Even if they stand alone.

And when the smoke clears, the world will know who the men were.

Many Christian men waste their later years in bitterness or comfort. This article calls older men to reject passivity, embrace joy, and lead the next generation with seasoned strength and godly wisdom.

In an age where silence is treated as virtue and compromise is marketed as wisdom, standing for truth is a dangerous act. Just ask Dr. Greg Schulz.

There’s a kind of deception that doesn’t tempt weak men—it tempts the strong. It doesn’t offer softness. It offers certainty. And in an age of collapse, clarity is a seductive thing.

Men look around and see institutions compromised, churches neutered, families fractured, and nations overrun. So they reach for something solid. But if that “something” is a totalizing system—an ideology—they’ve only traded one lie for another.

Ideology is not just error. It is idolatry. It replaces the Word of God with a grid of man’s making. It flattens the world into a single cause: race, class, sex, genes, or power. It offers a clean lens—but at the cost of truth.

And it always begins with something real.