In most of our At the Table blogs, we write for both women and men. But today, I want to speak directly to men—because too many of us have quietly slipped to the sidelines.
Stepping Back Into the Game
I’ve noticed something over years of ministry and mentoring: many men hesitate to join a group, let alone lead one. We hold back, unsure, often with a strange mix of humility and fear.
Some tell me, “I’m not an expert—I don’t know enough.” Others shrug, “I’m still learning myself; I’m not qualified to teach.” Once, I asked a veteran missionary, theologian, and Bible scholar to mentor me. He looked surprised and said, “I’m not capable of that. I need to be mentored by you.”
That moment taught me something: no one ever feels “qualified enough.” And that’s not the point. Many of us grew up in homes where emotion was hidden, pain was buried, and grief was “handled privately.” So when it comes to telling our story—the real one, with scars and losses—we freeze. Some of us still believe it isn’t “manly” to speak honestly about weakness or sorrow. Others feel disqualified by failure or haunted by the mistakes that make us human.
Busyness is how we live in our culture. Some work two jobs; many feel greatly burdened by the responsibilities of job, home, family, and marriage. Some have just adopted busyness as a way of life that becomes our modus operandi, which can justify withdrawal from our own spiritual formation.
And then there are those of us who simply stepped back, telling ourselves, “It’s time for younger men to lead.” But that’s a polite way of saying, “I’m done.”
Let’s be honest: those are excuses. Understandable ones, but still excuses. Read More

I first met Dr. Jim Houston over 30 years ago as a few friends and I sat together with him in a TCBY yogurt near Biola University. Dallas Willard had given us a glowing “scouting report” of Jim Houston. That night, we encountered a wise and faithful 72-year-old man who resonated with a sense of God’s creative and warm presence in the world. Around the table that evening, Dr. Houston asked each of us, “Where are you at?” When it came my turn to answer, a question emerged within me as if it had been floating to the surface for some time, and then, in that particular moment, it broke through the surface.

