Give Your Strength

Yesterday, I got it wrong with my wife.

There’s already pressure on both of us.

I’m running the business and starting some farmhand work.

Dance season is here, and she’s a professional choreographer with a whole new season of dances to build from scratch.

And now we’re taking our first trip with the kids ever.

Three kids.

Two adults.

One tent.

And did I mention she’s not a camper?

So yeah.

There was some charge under the surface.

I made her lunch.

Sat down with her to finalize the food plan.

And instead of working together, we shocked each other.

She hit me with some of her pressure.

I hit her right back with mine.

And before we knew it, we were in that familiar place:

me vs. you.

I defended.

I shut down.

I stepped away.

And honestly?

Part of me wanted to leave it there.

Pretend nothing happened.

Let enough time pass so the whole thing could disappear under the rug.

But that isn’t leadership.

That’s passivity.

And if there’s anything to learn from the first man in the first chapter of the Bible, it’s the error of passivity.

Adam stood there.

He saw what was happening.

And he did nothing.

He withheld his strength.

That thought hit me hard yesterday.

Because I could feel myself doing the same thing.

Not in some dramatic biblical way.

In a kitchen.

In a marriage.

In a normal Tuesday moment.

Say nothing. Wait. Hope it blows over.

So I fought internally.

Took a breath.

Literally shook my body out to get some of the charge out.

Asked God to strengthen me to do the right thing.

And then I walked back inside.

I looked at my wife and said:

“I’m not proud of the way I acted back there. I reacted from a place of hurt, and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry. I love you.”

That was it.

No speech.

No justification.

No finger-pointing.

Just repair.

Just owning where I was wrong.

And we moved forward from there.

I think this is one of the places where a lot of us get marriage wrong.

We keep trying to become men who never get reactive.

Never flood.

Never get defensive.

Never shut down.

Never miss.

That’s not real.

The question isn’t whether you’ll ever get hijacked by emotion.

You will.

I like the word possession better than flooding, honestly.

Because that’s what it can feel like.

Something takes over.

Your body is charged.

Your wounds are activated.

You’re no longer listening.

You’re no longer curious.

You’re no longer trying to understand the woman in front of you.

You’re trying to protect yourself.

And suddenly the woman you love becomes the problem you need to defend against.

So the question isn’t:

Will I ever get there?

It’s:

Where do I go when I do?

Do I wait for her to come to me?

Do I avoid it and sweep it under the rug?

Do I build a case for why I was technically right?

Do I keep score?

Or do I go first?

One of my favorite pieces of advice I’ve heard from Jordan Peterson is basically this:

Even when you’re 99% sure you’re right, account for the 1% chance you’re wrong.

That matters.

Because that 1% might be the doorway back to each other.

Take a step away.

Get yourself regulated.

Ask:

Where am I wrong?

Where is she right?

Not performatively.

Actually.

And then come back and say it.

Without the “but.”

Without immediately defending your side.

Without trying to win.

That takes strength.

Not dominance.

Not control.

Strength.

The strength to regulate yourself.

The strength to own your piece.

The strength to soften where you want to harden.

The strength to return when passivity tells you to stay away.

The strength to repair.

That’s the kind of strength I want to bring into my marriage.

And honestly, it’s the kind of strength I want my kids to watch.

Not a father who never gets it wrong.

A father who knows how to come back.

Who knows how to make it right.

Who knows how to give his strength when the family needs it most.

That’s one of the reasons I built PATRIARCH.

Because men are carrying pressure on every front:

Self.

Marriage.

Money.

Fatherhood.

Leadership.

Faith.

And eventually all that pressure leaks somewhere.

The work is learning how to carry it without bleeding it into the people we love most.

PATRIARCH // September 11–13

9 men. 3 days. 1 mission.

Reviving fatherhood, family & moral leadership.

If you’re on fire for your family and willing to do the work to show up better for them, come join us.

JOIN THE MOVEMENT

// Godspeed

x Rob