How do you describe what it means to stand strong?

If you asked a room full of men, I am fairly sure you would get a wide range of answers. Some would probably talk about being tough without showing weakness or backing down. Others would describe strength as pushing through difficulty, staying in control, keeping emotions in check, or taking pride in a do-it-myself attitude. For many of us, I would say strength has been defined by the idea that to stand strong, you must remain unshaken by life, unmoved or unbothered by the storms. 

But can we take a moment and wrestle with whether or not that is really strength?

In 1995, Hurricane Marilyn swept across the U.S. Virgin Islands with winds that exceeded 100 miles per hour. On the island of St. Thomas, much of the infrastructure was destroyed. There were concrete homes flattened. Power poles were snapped. And yet, on the edge of the destruction and wreckage, there was a small grove of palm trees. They were bent and tattered but still standing. 

How could they survive when these sturdier and seemingly stronger structures didn’t?

The answer was simple. Instead of trying to resist the storm, they moved, flexed, and gave with it. Yes, they were nearly bent to the ground, but they were able to stand up again once the storm had passed because they chose to stand soft. 

Today, I want to encourage you with this idea: resilience isn’t about being stiff but being responsive. Strength isn’t about appearing tough but actually being able to withstand the pressure that comes our way. 

Sometimes, if we truly want to stand strong, we have to learn how to stand soft.

Photo by Faheem shafi on Unsplash

Softness isn’t weakness; it’s truly wise, responsive strength.

At some point, softness was misunderstood. In our culture, soft is often associated with weakness, passivity, or lack of strength. But what if we have completely missed what softness truly is?

I don’t believe that all softness is weakness. I think it’s wisdom. It’s recognizing that certain situations or pressures require us to adjust so we don’t lose who we are. It is this intentional openness that refuses to become hardened when life is hard. Let’s call it strength with empathy or resilience paired with compassion. It’s making the decision that when the wind is blowing at its greatest, we won’t try to fight against it but move with it. 

And before you think I am saying we have to give in to every emotion, that’s not it at all. This is about not mistaking emotional numbness for grit. It’s how we choose to show up fully present in every situation, even if that means being vulnerable emotionally. Because some of the strongest men I know are willing to show emotion when something impacts them. They cry when something touches their heart. They choose to listen more than speak. They show up for their families and others even when it might be inconvenient or require more than they had planned to give. They are willing to ask for help when they realize they are in over their heads. All of that is a form of softness, and that is strength.

Next, Trees that can’t bend, break.

It’s easy to assume that the harder we become, the better off or safer we will be. Put on enough armor emotionally, relationally, and mentally, and we can get through anything. But that’s often the very kind of thinking that doesn’t prepare us to live a full life and can actually set us up for a collapse.

Imagine with me if you will a dead tree standing in a storm. On the outside, it appears to be strong. But what we often don’t see is that inside, the wood has become brittle, maybe even rotten. Where I live, I have a small wooded area filled with tall trees that look like they could stand forever. But after a recent storm, a few of them had fallen over. Some were dead, and I could see some of the rot that had settled in. Others appeared to be alive and thriving, but there were cracks caused by the heavy snows this past winter, and the wind was just strong enough to turn those cracks into full breaks. Contrast that with the palm tree that survived the hurricane. While they may look worse for wear, they survived. Not because they were determined to grit their way through, but because they chose to stand soft and bend with the wind.

Life is going to bring pressure. There will be relational breakdowns, financial tension, maybe spiritual doubts, or unexpected career transitions, most certainly emotional strain. We don’t get a say in whether or not those storms come, but we do get to decide how we will respond when they do. Will we choose to freeze up, hoping our rigidity will make us look like we have it all together, or will we choose to bend with the storm and maybe carry scars but still keep moving forward?

Let’s reject the idea that bending means giving in and start seeing it as choosing to adjust so we don’t break. This is the art of pivoting without losing our footing—remaining rooted without being rigid. This is how the resilient stand in storms, with a softness that allows them to bend.

Start redefining masculinity around flexibility and courage.

You don’t need a PhD to see we urgently need a clearer definition of strength, especially regarding masculinity. It should not glorify ideas of dominance, emotional detachment, or self-reliance, but instead celebrate men who work hard at being emotionally aware, spiritually grounded, and relationally engaged. 

If we are being honest, I am sure most of us would say we didn’t grow up seeing softness as strength. If you were sensitive, you were probably told you needed to toughen up. If you cried, you were shamed and told to man up. Showing fear? You might have been told to shake it off and maybe even given an out-of-context Bible verse about fear not. But what if… what if we could model a different kind of masculinity that doesn’t try to mask feelings but names them and gives space? That doesn’t try to suppress them but walks through them with courage. That refuses to pretend like everything is okay but is willing to share what is actually needed?

I don’t think that is weakness; in fact, I’d say it’s one of the bravest things we could do. And I’d say that it’s Christlike.

Jesus was a man who stood soft. He wasn’t interested in fighting for power or defending his image. He wept openly. He got tired. He would withdraw when he needed rest. Yes, he spoke with conviction, but it was steeped in compassion. And at the moment of his greatest storm, his greatest pressure, like when he was praying in the garden before facing the cross, he didn’t pretend everything was okay. He prayed, sweat blood, and surrendered with courage. Jesus didn’t stand stiff and rigid against life; he chose to stand soft, and it saved the world.

So, can we stop pretending that strength means silence, emotional detachment, and displaying a broken, cracked masculinity? And instead, start building a life that is resilient and flexible enough to bend with the storms that come our way?

Let’s bring this to a close and answer this question: Where in your life are you standing rigid right now?

Is it in your marriage or relationship that you are more defensive than open? Could it be in your career that you have pushed so hard that you’ve become numb? Is it in your spiritual life that you have been performing so long you have forgotten how to rest? Is it in your relationship with your kids where you have focused more on correcting behaviors than connecting to hearts? Or could it be in how you relate to yourself and demand perfection instead of offering grace?

Wherever you are, could I invite you to step back and ask yourself: what would it look like if I stood soft here?

What would it look like to listen instead of defend? What if I chose to feel rather than numb out? To speak honestly instead of trying to hide behind a performance? See, this is how we shift. This is how we build the resilience and flexibility we need. This is how we become those who not only survive the storms but grow through them.

I want to make sure you understand this: you don’t need to try to figure all of this out on your own. In fact, you weren’t meant to. Remember, it’s a collection of palm trees, not just a single tree. I would love to help you on this journey of building a new kind of strength — one that can face the storm, lean with the wind, bend under pressure, and stay rooted through it all. But it all begins when we choose to be honest.

I want to invite you to spend 10 minutes reflecting on this question: Where in my life am I standing rigid, and I need to stand soft? Whatever it is, write it down. Pray about it. Talk it over with a friend. Then take just one small step to make a shift.

And if you’d like a place to process this with someone, please reach out. Leave a comment, send me a message, or say, “I’m working on it too.” I’d love to hear where you’re learning to stand soft—and what it’s changing in you. The goal isn’t to pretend the storm isn’t coming. The goal is to be the kind of man who still stands after it’s passed