A few years ago, I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, feeling defeated. I had just finished another grueling workout, the kind you do more out of guilt than joy. I stared at my reflection, pinching my stomach, flexing my arms, silently tallying all the ways I didn’t measure up to the images I saw online. I was supposed to feel strong and confident. Instead, I felt like a fraud.
I didn’t talk about it. Men don’t, usually. We’re taught to tough it out, to stay quiet, to be “strong.” But behind the forced humor and the casual shrugging off of body jokes, many of us are carrying deep shame about how we look.
While sermons and small-group discussions often focus on women’s struggles with body image, men’s silent battle is rarely addressed — despite research suggesting a growing epidemic.
A Chapman University study found that up to 40% of men are dissatisfied with their appearance. Another survey by Verywell Mind revealed that nearly 30% of men experience body-image anxiety, and around 11% have had suicidal thoughts related to their appearance. The numbers are staggering — and yet most Christian spaces remain oddly quiet about it.
Part of the problem is that men are taught, implicitly and explicitly, to value stoicism. Vulnerability, especially about physical insecurities, is seen as weakness. According to Matt Boyles, a personal trainer who works specifically with male clients, “For a man to say he wasn’t feeling comfortable with his body… that just wasn’t done.”
Ben Tuff, a men’s mental health advocate and former endurance swimmer, echoes this sentiment.
“We live in a culture where guys don’t talk about their insecurities,” he told Men’s Health. “We’re supposed to be tough, and any crack in the armor feels like failure.”
But ignoring this isn’t working. Muscle dysmorphia — sometimes called “bigorexia” — is on the rise among men, leading many to obsess over perceived lack of muscle mass even when they’re objectively fit. The Newport Institute notes that male body-image struggles often run alongside anxiety, depression and eating disorders, but men are less likely to seek help. Social media doesn’t help, constantly feeding us images of hyper-muscular, chiseled male bodies, all presented as effortless standards.
For many Christian men, these pressures collide with an unspoken theology that prizes strength and dominance. The “muscular Christianity” movement of the late 19th century promoted an ideal of the strong, athletic man as spiritually superior — a legacy that still lingers. While most pastors would never say from the pulpit that a man’s worth is in his abs, the cultural subtext is clear: strength equals virtue.
Yet Scripture offers a different story. The creation narrative reminds us that all humans are made in the image of God — imago Dei — regardless of size, shape or strength. In the New Testament, the apostle Paul writes about the body not as an aesthetic ideal, but as a living sacrifice, a vessel for worship and service. Philippians urges believers to let the peace of Christ guard our hearts and minds — a peace that has nothing to do with muscle tone or waist size.
Some faith communities are beginning to recognize this disconnect. Rooted Ministry, for instance, has called for a more holistic approach, teaching young people that their value lies in their identity as God’s beloved children, not in their reflection in the mirror. But these conversations are still too rare.
Addressing male body image in the church requires more than an occasional mention in a sermon. It means creating spaces where men can be vulnerable without fear of judgment. It means small groups that talk honestly about struggles with comparison, shame and self-worth. It means youth pastors talking to teenage boys about social media filters and unrealistic fitness expectations before those pressures solidify into lifelong anxieties.
It also means redefining what it means to be strong. True strength isn’t found in a perfectly sculpted body. It’s in the courage to show up as you are. It’s in the vulnerability to admit weakness and the humility to ask for help. As Tom Holland, author and historian, put it in an interview about masculinity, “The Christian idea of strength is upside down — it’s in sacrifice and service, not domination.”
Pastors and leaders have a unique opportunity to model this. When church leaders talk openly about their own struggles — whether that’s body image, self-worth or anything else — it gives permission for others to do the same. It dismantles the illusion of perfection and replaces it with authentic community.
There’s also a need for practical support: counseling resources, mentorship, accountability groups and pastoral care that explicitly address male body-image struggles. The gospel offers a countercultural message: You are loved and valued, not because of how you look, but because of who made you.
I wish I had heard that when I was younger — that my worth wasn’t hanging on my reflection in the mirror, but secured by a God who calls me beloved.
The church often talks about being a hospital for the broken, but that requires seeing wounds that aren’t always visible. If we truly believe in a God who cares about every part of us — mind, soul and body — we can’t afford to ignore this silent epidemic among men.
Men have body-image issues, too. And they need to hear from the pulpit, from small groups and from each other that their worth isn’t in their reflection, but in their Redeemer.
