Introduction: The House We Don’t Know We’re Building

Welcome back to Sunday Ripple.

Today we’re talking about something that doesn’t show up on a resume… but absolutely shows up in a marriage, a church, and a mirror.

We’re talking about the internal life of the “independent Christian man.”

You know him.

You might be him.

(If you just thought, “I’m definitely not that guy,” this episode may be for you.)

He loves Jesus. He believes the Bible. He works hard. He provides. He takes responsibility. He’s not trying to build a kingdom of self… and yet somehow, over time, he’s constructed a spiritual house where he’s the only permanent resident.

It’s sturdy. It’s efficient. It has great theology hanging on the walls.

But it’s lonely.

Today we’re going to look at three support beams that often hold this house up: insubordination, lack of self-awareness, and self-righteousness. Not the loud, obvious versions. The subtle ones. The respectable ones. The kind that get mistaken for strength.

Because sometimes what feels like leadership…

Is just independence with a Bible verse attached.

So let’s start with the first pillar holding up this invisible structure:

The Spirit of Insubordination.

Section One: The Pillar of Insubordination

Host: Let’s start with the first pillar: Insubordination. In a secular context, we love a rebel. We love the guy who "answers to no one" and "blazes his own trail." But in the economy of God, "insubordination" is a polite word for something much older and much more dangerous.

When we talk about the Independent Christian Man, his insubordination isn't usually a loud, middle-finger-to-the-sky kind of rebellion. It’s quieter. It’s a "selective submission." He’ll submit to God in the abstract—on Sunday mornings or in his private prayer life—but the moment a human authority, a church body, or even a biblical command rubs against his personal autonomy, the "Superstructure" kicks in.

The Illusion of the Direct Line The hallmark of this pillar is what I call the "Direct Line Fallacy." The independent man justifies his insubordination by claiming he only answers to God. It sounds spiritual, doesn't it? "I don't need to listen to my elders, or my wife’s concerns, or the wisdom of my community, because I’ve got a direct line to the Almighty."

But biblically, God almost always mediates His authority through others. When we look at the life of David or even Paul, we see men who were under authority. The independent man views any form of human accountability as an "infringement on his liberty." From a Christian perspective, this is a massive red flag. If you are "above" the counsel of your brothers or the discipline of your church, you aren't actually following Christ; you’re following a version of Christ that you’ve created in your own image—one that conveniently never disagrees with you.

The "Independent" Theology of Saul Think about King Saul in 1 Samuel 15. He was given a direct command. He did most of it, but he kept the best sheep and the king alive because he thought he knew better. When Samuel confronted him, Saul’s first instinct wasn't "I sinned," it was "I obeyed... but the people made me do it." That is the heart of insubordination. It’s the belief that your "special circumstances" or your "unique vision" exempts you from the standard of humble obedience.

The independent man treats God like a consultant rather than a Commander-in-Chief. A consultant gives you advice, and you decide if you want to take it based on your current business plan. A Commander gives an order, and the only holy response is "Yes, Lord."

Autonomy vs. Agency We have to distinguish between agency and autonomy. God gives us agency—the power to act, to build, to lead. But the independent superstructure demands autonomy, which literally means "self-law." It’s the desire to be the sole legislator of your own life.

When a man is governed by this pillar, he becomes unteachable. You can’t tell him he’s wrong because his "internal superstructure" is designed to deflect external correction. He views criticism as an attack on his strength. In his mind, to submit is to lose. But in the Kingdom, to submit is to find safety.

The Weight of the Pillar Why do we lean on this pillar of insubordination? Because it feels like strength. It feels like being a "self-made man." But in reality, it’s a brittle support. A man who is insubordinate to God’s established order (the church, the family, the community) is a man who is ultimately alone.

When the storms of life hit—when the "superstructure" is actually tested—the man who stands alone falls alone. Subordination isn't about being a "doormat"; it’s about being integrated into a body. It’s about recognizing that the "I" is secondary to the "He."

If you find yourself constantly rotating through churches because "no one gets it," or if you find yourself unable to take a direct word of correction from your spouse without getting defensive, you might be leaning on the pillar of insubordination. You’ve built a house that is independent of the very Head—Christ—who is supposed to be the cornerstone.

Section Two: The Pillar of Lack of Self-Awareness

Host: If Insubordination is the action of the independent man, then a Lack of Self-Awareness is the fog that allows him to keep doing it without feeling the weight of his own hypocrisy. It is the anesthetic that numbs him to the structural cracks forming in his own life.

In the secular world, we talk a lot about "emotional intelligence" or "EQ." We view it as a corporate soft skill. But in the Christian life, self-awareness is not a luxury—it is a spiritual discipline. It is the ability to stand before the "mirror of the Word," as James describes it, and actually see the man looking back without flinching. The Independent Christian Man, however, has built a superstructure that lacks mirrors. He has designed his life with every window facing outward. He is a master of the "external gaze"—he can spot a theological error in a sermon from a mile away, and he can diagnose the moral failings of the culture with surgical precision. But when the camera turns inward? The feed goes dark.

The "Blind Spot" as a Fortress The independent man often confuses his intentions with his impact. In his mind, he is a man of noble aims. He thinks, "I intend to be a provider" or "I intend to be a leader," and therefore, he concludes that he is those things in practice. Because he lacks self-awareness, he is shielded from the reality of how he actually treats his wife during a Tuesday night argument, how he alienates his children through a constant spirit of correction, or how his supposed "boldness" in the workplace is interpreted by everyone else as simple arrogance.

He lives in the gap between who he thinks he is and who he actually is, and he refuses to let anyone bridge that gap. From a Christian perspective, this is a refusal to engage in the "examination of the soul." It is a rejection of the humility required for sanctification. Psalm 139:23-24 says, "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts." This is a terrifying prayer for the independent man because it invites an outside authority to verify his internal state. To be "searched" by God means admitting there are dark corners you haven't mapped yet. The independent man wants to be the sole mapmaker of his own soul. He wants to believe he is fully explored territory, needing no further discovery.

The Hero Narrative and the Virtue of Vice One reason for this lack of awareness is the "Hero Narrative." The independent man sees himself as the protagonist of a lonely, rugged epic. He’s the one holding the line; he’s the one who "gets it" while everyone else is compromised or soft. When you cast yourself as the hero, any internal flaw or character deficiency is reframed as a "necessary sacrifice" or a "misunderstood virtue."

For example, his harshness isn't seen as a lack of self-control; it is labeled as "speaking the truth in love." His isolation isn't seen as a fear of intimacy; it is labeled as "being set apart for the Lord." His inability to take a joke or a critique is labeled as "taking the mission seriously." Without self-awareness, he cannot distinguish between the fruit of the Spirit and the impulses of his own ego. He becomes what we might call a "functional orphan"—acting as if he has no Father to correct him and no brothers to steady him. He is the king of a very small, very lonely hill.

The Danger of "God Told Me" This fog is most dangerous when it is spiritualized. This is where the Independent Christian Man becomes most difficult to reach. We’ve all met the man who uses "God told me" as a ballistic shield against any personal reflection or external accountability. If he loses his temper and causes a scene, he doesn't see a need for repentance or an apology; he sees a "righteous anger" akin to Jesus clearing the temple. If his behavior destroys a long-standing relationship, he doesn't see his own pride or stubbornness; he sees "spiritual warfare" or "persecution for the sake of the Gospel."

The lack of self-awareness creates a closed feedback loop where his own impulses, desires, and even his prejudices are constantly validated as divine mandates. In the Kingdom, the Holy Spirit’s job is to convict us of sin—to point out the gap between our behavior and God's holiness. But if your internal superstructure is designed to filter out your own flaws, you effectively mute the Holy Spirit. You end up in a tragic state of "spiritual stagnation" while remaining utterly convinced you are in a state of "spiritual maturity." You are moving, but you are moving in a circle, convinced it’s a straight line.

Breaking the Pillar through Vulnerability So how do we tear down a pillar made of fog? Breaking this pillar requires the one thing the independent man hates most: vulnerability. It requires a "collapse of the facade." It means walking into a room of godly men or sitting across from a spouse and saying the most "un-independent" thing possible: "I don't know my own heart as well as I think I do. Tell me what it’s like to be on the other side of me."

The Pillar of Self-Righteousness: The Engine of Performance

The "Independent Christian Man" (ICM) operates on a paradoxical fuel. While he may technically subscribe to a theology of "Sola Gratia" (Grace Alone), his functional daily life is powered by Sola Performance.

In his mind, grace is a safety net for the weak, but "grit" is the ladder for the strong. This self-righteousness isn't just a character flaw; it is the structural integrity of his entire world. If he admits to being truly needy, the ceiling of his independence collapses. Therefore, he must maintain a high-functioning facade of competence to justify his standing before God and his authority over his family and peers.

The Pharisee in Modern Flannel

We often mistake the biblical Pharisee for a caricature—a man in ornate robes praying loudly on street corners. In the 21st century, however, the Pharisee has traded robes for rugged work boots or a tailored suit. He doesn't focus on ceremonial washing; he focuses on functional superiority.

His "righteousness" is curated through a specific set of metrics:

• Theological Purity: He is never "wrong" about a doctrine.
• Economic Stability: He views financial struggle as a sign of a lack of character or faith.
• Emotional Stoicism: He treats depression or anxiety as "spiritual laziness" rather than human fragility.

The internal monologue of the ICM mirrors the Pharisee in Luke 18:11: "God, I thank you that I am not like other men." He isn't actually thanking God for mercy; he is congratulating God for having a partner as disciplined and capable as himself. He views his life as a joint venture where God provides the "branding" and he provides the "sweat equity."

The Mechanics of "Self-Atonement"

For the independent man, self-righteousness acts as a form of Self-Atonement. Most men carry a deep-seated sense of inadequacy or guilt. The "Independent" way of dealing with this isn't to take it to the Cross, but to out-perform the guilt.

He believes that if he wakes up at 5:00 AM, reads his Bible for thirty minutes, works a ten-hour day without complaining, and provides a stable home, he has "paid" for his minor irritabilities or his lack of emotional intimacy. This "earned" righteousness gives him a sense of moral leverage. Because he has "paid his dues," he feels entitled to be the judge, jury, and executioner of everyone else’s failures.

Key Concept: The ICM doesn't want a Savior; he wants a Partner who stays out of his way unless he needs a "top-off" on his own efforts.

The Hidden Foundation: The Fear of "Needing"

If you peel back the layers of this self-righteousness, you don’t find a monster; you find a terrified man. Underneath the armor of "competence" is a trembling fear of being average. To the ICM, being "needy" is synonymous with being "feminine" or "weak."

He interprets the Gospel’s command to "become like a little child" (Matthew 18:3) as an existential threat to his masculinity. Children are dependent, vulnerable, and have no status of their own. The ICM has spent his whole life building status so he would never have to be a child again.

The Fragility of the "Always Right"

This is why the self-righteous man is the most defensive person in the room. When a spouse or a friend points out a flaw, he doesn't hear a "correction"; he hears an "eviction notice" from his place of security.

• If he is wrong about one thing, his "perfected" resume is stained.
• If he is stained, he is no longer superior.
• If he is no longer superior, he believes he is nothing.

This brittleness makes him a dangerous leader. He cannot apologize because an apology is an admission of bankruptcy, and he has staked his identity on being "the man with the answers."

The Moral High Ground as a Sniper’s Nest

Self-righteousness inevitably weaponizes the Christian life. The ICM views the Bible not as a mirror to see his own need, but as a map to navigate everyone else’s failures.

[Image showing the difference between a "Mirror" view of scripture vs. a "Window" view focused on others]

1. Scripture as a Bludgeon: He uses "Biblical Standards" to keep people at a distance. If he can point out your inconsistency, he doesn't have to deal with his own lack of love.
2. The "Gospel" of Grit: He preaches a version of Christianity that is essentially "Stoicism with a Bible Verse." This attracts other "performers" but alienates the broken, the mourning, and those who are truly searching for a Physician for their souls.
3. Isolation as Protection: By staying on the "high ground," he ensures no one can ever get close enough to see the cracks in his foundation.

The Dehydration of the Soul

The ultimate tragedy of this pillar is that it is a thirst-quencher that dehydrates. It provides a temporary rush of pride—a "spiritual high" from feeling more "together" than the guy in the next pew. But it starves him of the one thing his soul actually needs: to be fully known and fully loved.

You cannot be "loved" for who you are if you are constantly presenting a "perfected" version of who you want to be. The ICM lives in a prison of his own construction. He performs for an audience of one—himself—while the real Jesus stands outside the gate. Christ offers a righteousness that is "gifted," not "gritted."

The Only Cure: The Structural Collapse

From a Christian perspective, there is no "improving" this pillar. You cannot renovate self-righteousness; you have to demolish it. A man must come to the end of his own strength.

The cure is what theologians call "The Collapse." It usually happens through a failure he can’t fix: a marriage that hits a wall, a child who rebels, or a personal moral failure that he can’t "competence" his way out of.

The Gospel Shift

Until the Independent Man realizes that his "superstructure" is actually composed of "filthy rags" (Isaiah 64:6), he will remain a brittle, cold leader. He must swap his Self-Righteousness for Christ’s Righteousness.

• From: "Do as I do" (Authority through performance).
• To: "Follow me as I follow Christ" (Authority through shared need).

When this pillar falls, the "Independent Man" dies, and the "Gospel-Centered Man" begins to breathe. He stops being a sniper on the hill and starts being a fellow traveler on the road—a man who is finally okay with being "needy" because he knows his Father is truly wealthy.

Section 4: The Relational Fallout—Building an Island

The independent superstructure is often admired from a distance. To the casual observer at church or the neighbor across the street, the Independent Christian Man (ICM) looks like the quintessential "pillar of the community." He is disciplined, he is present, and he is seemingly unshakeable. But a building isn’t just an architectural statement; it is a space where people have to live, breathe, and seek shelter.

When we step inside the "fortress" of the independent man, we discover a tragic irony: the very walls he built to protect his family and his reputation have become the barriers that keep them out. He has successfully built a stronghold, but he is the only one in it. He hasn't just built a home; he has built an island.

The "Lone Ranger" in the Hallway

In the context of marriage and fatherhood, the independent superstructure manifests as a chilling, pressurized emotional distance. The ICM often confuses dominance with leadership. Because his internal blueprint is governed by a spirit of Insubordination, he views his wife’s intuitive wisdom or gentle correction not as the gift of a "helpmate," but as a strategic coup against his sovereignty.

In his mind, to listen to his wife is to "give up ground." This creates a home environment where the wife feels less like a partner and more like a junior employee. She learns that bringing up a concern—whether it’s about the finances, the children’s emotional state, or the lack of intimacy—will be met with a "theological" rebuttal or a stony silence.

The ICM uses his Self-Righteousness as a shield. If his wife expresses loneliness, he points to his paycheck or his attendance at Saturday morning men's prayer as proof that he is doing his "biblical duty." He justifies his coldness as "maintaining the standard" or "not being led by emotions." He is the "Silence of Adam" personified—not the silence of passivity, but the silence of a man who refuses to engage in the messy, leveling work of reconciliation because his ego cannot survive the words, "I was wrong. I hurt you. Please forgive me."

The "Ghost" in the Pew: The Myth of the Independent Member

This relational fallout radiates outward into the local church. The Independent Christian Man is frequently a "ghost" in his own congregation. He is a man who is physically present but relationally absent. He might be the man who handles the church's building maintenance or sits on the finance committee because those roles value Competence. However, you will rarely find him in a small group sharing a struggle or asking for prayer. To do so would require him to dismantle the pillar of Self-Sufficiency. He views the biblical mandate to "confess your sins to one another" (James 5:16) as a suggestion for those who aren't "strong" enough to handle their own business.

The Tragedy of the Critic: From his self-appointed watchtower, he judges the "weakness" of the congregation. When a brother falls into addiction or a marriage in the church implodes, the ICM doesn't move toward them with the "empathy of a fellow beggar." Instead, he offers a critique. He analyzes their "lack of discipline" or "poor doctrine." He remains "right," but he remains utterly alone. He has no brothers, only subjects or projects.

The Ghost of Vulnerability: Why the Kids Stop Talking

Perhaps the most heartbreaking casualty of the independent superstructure is the heart of a child. Children have an innate "hypocrisy radar"; they can sense when a father’s "righteousness" is a performance rather than a fruit of the Spirit.

The ICM wonders why his teenagers become "checked out" or why they stop sharing their dreams and fears with him. He often blames the "world," the school system, or their "lack of spiritual hunger." What he fails to see—due to his chronic lack of Self-Awareness—is that he has made himself an unsafe person.

Vulnerability requires a safe landing spot. If a child brings a failure to a self-righteous father, they don't get grace; they get a lecture on "grit." If they bring a doubt, they get a theological hammer. The child learns quickly that to be loved in this "fortress," they must also become performers. The superstructure doesn't just isolate the man; it forces his children to build their own mini-fortresses just to survive his judgment.

The Theological Collision: "Wired for Connection"

Biblically, God’s first "Not Good" was directed at isolation: "It is not good for the man to be alone" (Genesis 2:18). This wasn't just a nod toward marriage; it was a revelation of the human design. We are created in the image of a Triune God who exists in eternal, interdependent community. We are, quite literally, wired for connection.

The independent man, however, has re-wired himself for autonomy. When these two wires cross, the relationship is always the fuse that blows.

• You cannot have a "one flesh" union if you are living as a "one man army."
• You cannot "bear one another's burdens" if you refuse to admit you have a back that can break.
• You cannot experience the Gospel of being "fully known and fully loved" if you are only willing to be "partially known and highly respected."

The Cost of "Doing it My Way"

The ICM eventually finds himself in a prison of his own perfection. He has "won" every argument, he has maintained his "standards," and he has never let anyone see him sweat. But the cost is a profound, echoing silence in his soul. He has traded the warmth of a hearth for the security of a bunker.

The only way off the island is a "forced shipwreck." For the independent man to truly find community, he has to be willing to let his "superstructure" sink. He has to realize that the most "masculine" thing he can do isn't to stand alone on a pillar, but to step down into the mud with the rest of the redeemed and say, "I can't do this by myself."

Section 5: The Crisis of Authority—Who is the Real King?

(Approx. 800 words)

Host: This leads us to the fundamental theological crisis of the Independent Christian Man: **The Identity of the King.**If you have a pillar of insubordination, a lack of self-awareness, and a heart of self-righteousness, you have effectively staged a coup in your own heart. You have taken the crown off the head of Jesus and placed it on your own. You’ve just painted it gold and called it "Biblical Manhood."

The "Functional Deist" In this section, we need to address a hard truth: many independent men are "Functional Deists." They believe God exists, they believe He created the world, and they believe He has a set of rules—but they don't believe He is present enough to actually interfere with their daily autonomy.

They use God as a "legal cover" for their own desires. When they want to move the family across the country, they say "God is leading me," but they never submit that leading to the counsel of their church. When they want to quit a job or start a risky venture, they claim "faith," but it’s often just "recklessness" fueled by a lack of self-awareness.

The Authority of the Word vs. The Authority of the Self The Independent Christian Man often prides himself on being a "man of the Word." He loves the "hard truths." But watch what happens when the Word speaks to his specific pillars.

The Word says, "Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ" (Ephesians 5:21). The independent man’s superstructure says, "I submit to no man." The Word says, "Confess your sins to each other" (James 5:16). The independent man’s superstructure says, "I deal with my sins privately between me and God."

By cherry-picking the parts of Christianity that feel "rugged" and ignoring the parts that require "meekness," he creates a "buffet-style" authority. He is the one choosing what to obey. And if you are the one choosing which commands to follow, you aren't under authority—you are the authority.

The Counterfeit Kingdom This is the "Crisis of Authority." The independent man is trying to build a Kingdom of God using the tools of the Kingdom of Self. He wants the blessings of a believer—peace, purpose, legacy—without the posture of a servant.

Jesus was the ultimate "Dependent Man." He said, "The Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing" (John 5:19). Think about the weight of that. The Creator of the Universe lived in total, radical dependence on His Father. If Jesus Christ—the perfect, sinless Man—did not live "independently," what makes us think we can?

The Ultimate Collapse Eventually, every independent superstructure faces a "Day of Visitation." A health crisis, a financial collapse, or a relational breakdown occurs that is too big for the man to "grit" his way through. In that moment, the crisis of authority is laid bare.

Will he double down on his pillars? Will he become more insubordinate, more blind, and more self-righteous in his bitterness? Or will he allow the superstructure to crumble so that he can finally build on the Rock?

Real authority in the Christian life doesn't come from your ability to stand alone. It comes from your willingness to be "hidden in Christ." It’s the paradox of the Gospel: you only become the man you were meant to be when you stop trying to be the "Self-Made Man."

Outro: The Architecture of Grace

(Approx. 200–250 words)

Host: We’ve spent this hour looking at the blueprint of the Independent Christian Man—a structure built on the pillars of Insubordination, a Lack of Self-Awareness, and Self-Righteousness. It’s a house that looks impressive from the street, but as we’ve seen, it’s a cold and lonely place to live.

The Gospel doesn't ask you to "remodel" this superstructure. It asks you to let it be demolished. The Invitation of Christ isn’t to be a better, stronger, more "independent" version of yourself; it’s an invitation to die to that man so that a new one can be raised.

If you recognized yourself in these pillars today, don't walk away into further isolation. The cure for insubordination is a joyful surrender to a King who actually loves you. The cure for a lack of self-awareness is the honest, messy community of the local church. And the cure for self-righteousness is the finished work of Jesus—the only righteousness that actually stands the test of time.

Real strength isn't found in standing alone; it’s found in knowing exactly whose you are.

Thanks for joining us for this deep dive. We hope this helps you move from an independent life to a dependent one—dependent on the grace that never runs dry. We’ll see you next time.