What if the real rebel is the man who loves Jesus?

In this article, Duncan Williams explores righteous rebellion. Sharing from personal experience, not all rebellion is wrong and loving Jesus is where we need to keep our focus and hearts on.

by Duncan Williams

Is Christianity sexy? It’s an unusual question – perhaps even an uncomfortable one – but in a culture driven by aesthetics and immediacy, it might be more relevant than it seems. We live in a world that often prizes charisma over character, and allure over authenticity, so it’s not surprising that the question arises. Romantic ideals, shaped by film, fiction and social media, continue to favour the enigmatic rebel over the dependable man of faith. For those seeking meaningful connection grounded in shared values, this can create a genuine tension that’s hard to reconcile. 

Virtues and morals 

I won’t speak for women. Nor will I try to. But I do know something of what it means to be a man shaped by flawed ideals. I’ve made mistakes. I spent years working in splash news journalism, and it’s fair to say I operated with something of a tabloid mentality. In my younger days, I didn’t always live by the virtues I now hold dear. Any wisdom I’ve gained hasn’t come from superiority, but from hindsight – and, more than anything, by the generosity of grace. 

There’s a longstanding trope – still alive and well in popular culture – that paints the ‘bad guy’ as dangerously appealing. He’s unpredictable, intense, emotionally distant and somehow magnetic. It’s a character type many of us have grown up seeing. But in Christian communities, it can lead to a quiet confusion: why does moral goodness sometimes appear less compelling? Why does a man striving to live with integrity, compassion and spiritual maturity risk being dismissed as dull? 

Radical Jesus 

That perception, I think, deserves to be challenged. Because rebellion itself isn’t inherently negative – it depends entirely on what’s being rebelled against. Jesus, after all, was not a passive figure. He pushed back against religious hypocrisy, challenged corrupt systems and upended social norms. He led boldly, spoke fiercely and loved unflinchingly. If anything, His was the most radical life ever lived. But His strength wasn’t rooted in dominance or recklessness – it came from obedience, compassion and truth. 

So perhaps the real issue isn’t that Christian men lack edge or boldness, but that we’ve inherited a skewed picture of what those qualities look like. There’s a kind of quiet strength in self-restraint. There’s deep courage in faithfulness. But these virtues don’t always announce themselves. In a noisy world, they can be easily overlooked. 

Partnerships, not projects 

Another narrative that surfaces from time to time – and not just in Christian spaces – is the idea that love is about helping someone become better. That with enough patience, guidance or coaching, a struggling partner can be transformed. There’s something noble in that instinct, to be sure. But it can also become a heavy and lonely path, especially if one person ends up doing all the emotional or spiritual lifting. 

Again, I tread carefully here. Everyone’s story is different, and I wouldn’t dream of making assumptions about the reasons people choose the relationships they do. But I do wonder whether, in some cases, this dynamic reflects more than compassion alone – perhaps a quiet belief that love must be earned through effort or endurance. That a more straightforward, steady kind of relationship somehow lacks depth or romance. 

Relationships should be partnerships, not projects. And yet, too many people settle into the latter. Why? Sometimes, it’s the hope that something beautiful will come from struggle. But sometimes, it’s a deeper question of self-worth – a belief, shaped by pain or past experience, that love must be paid for in sacrifice. That a stable, faith-filled love is either too good to be true or meant for someone else. 

But it isn’t. 

And to the women who have begun to wonder if the kind, Christ-following man is somehow less exciting: he isn’t. In fact, a man of deep conviction, who loves Jesus not as performance but as reality, is one of the rarest and most courageous figures in the world today. He may not lead with flash or friction, but he brings something far better – presence, peace, and the kind of strength that doesn’t need to shout. 

At the same time, men are asking their own quiet questions: What does it mean to be a good man – not just morally, but relationally? What kind of strength is actually attractive? Where are the examples of courage that don’t spill into control, or leadership that doesn’t default to ego? These aren’t easy questions to answer in a culture that rewards style over substance. 

Jesus’ righteous rebellion 

This is where Jesus remains the ultimate – and radically countercultural – model. His life was not passive. He didn’t shrink from confrontation. He led a movement, defied corruption, called out hypocrisy, and carried the weight of the cross. But His strength was never self-centred. It was rooted in obedience, self-giving love, and unwavering clarity. He was, and is, the truest rebel – the kind who challenges not for attention but for transformation. 

We need more of that rebellion today. Not the rebellion of reckless abandon, but of righteous defiance – the kind that says no to moral compromise, emotional manipulation and counterfeit love. The kind that builds, slowly and faithfully, towards something that endures. 

So what does all this mean for those of us – men and women – trying to date, love or lead in faith? 

It means we need to reject the false divide between goodness and attraction. The idea that you must choose between being desirable and being virtuous is a lie. A faithful heart and an adventurous spirit are not enemies. A pure love can still set you alight. Godly relationships aren’t the absence of desire – they’re its refinement. 

To the woman wondering if her standards are too high: they’re not. You’re not too spiritual to be desired, nor are you meant to carry someone else’s discipleship on your back. You deserve more than a fixer-upper. You deserve a man who is already walking towards Christ – not perfectly, but genuinely. 

To the man wondering if goodness will ever be enough: it will be. It already is. But let your goodness be bold. Let it carry conviction, not just politeness. Let your life speak with integrity, not noise. You are not called to compete with the world’s chaos, but to stand quietly and fiercely against it. 

Christianity may never sell itself with swagger. But lived authentically, it is anything but bland. It is daring. It is luminous. It is the stuff of true adventure, marked not by drama but by depth. 

In the end, maybe the real rebellion is to believe this - to build lives, relationships and communities that refuse to settle for the shallow, the selfish or the performative. And to trust that the love we are made for – Christlike, courageous, and full of grace – is still worth holding out for. 

About the author 

Duncan Williams is an accredited Life Coach Minister, editor and journalist with a passion for helping people grow in faith and purpose, contributing widely to Christian media and mentoring emerging voices in the global faith community.