The Goodness of Distinctions: The Death of Duty
The erosion of duty, the rise of entitlement, and the cost of rejecting responsibility.
The image of the cowboy resonates strongly with Americans for many reasons. He’s a rugged man’s man, capable, self-sufficient, and willing to chart a path into unknown and likely dangerous territory. He leads the way, taking risks so others can follow. It’s an admirable picture: courageous, pioneering, honorable. And while it has flaws, it carries with it a moral good, the idea that someone must take responsibility, face hardship, and bear the burden of leadership.
Like many once-virtuous ideals, this has been distorted. What was once a symbol of principled strength has been romanticized into the lone wolf. A man untethered from all responsibility except to himself. The ethos that helped build families, towns, and our civilization has shifted. Today, we praise autonomy over accountability. We idolize freedom from obligation rather than competency and purpose. This must change. For the good of our communities, Christian and American, we must once again find purpose in our time and place and bring it under our sway for the sake of Christ. The question is, what is your place in this purpose?
We’ve spent the last three posts exploring the foundational distinctions of gender and marriage, how God made men and women different by design, and how that design plays out in covenantal relationships. But those distinctions don’t stop at the individual or household level. They extend from the spiritual into the political and ecclesiastical. The order God has ordained begins in the heavens, so as we look at how we might do God’s will on earth, let’s look at what the hierarchy of the heavens may have to show us.
As I kept watching, thrones were set in place, and the Ancient of Days took his seat.
His clothing was white like snow, and the hair of his head like whitest wool.
His throne was flaming fire; its wheels were blazing fire.
A river of fire was flowing, coming out from his presence.
Thousands upon thousands served him; ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him.
The court was convened, and the books were opened.
- Daniel 7:9–10 (CSB)
This passage shows God in a way most people don’t usually think of. The dramatic imagery of fire, a throne, or even a river of fire may feel familiar or expected. But two striking details emerge if you look closely at the first and last sentences: God’s throne is not alone. It’s set among other thrones, and the books are opened the moment He takes His seat, and His court convenes. He presides over a structured gathering. This is not the chaos of disorder but rather a neatly designed council of law and order. And this pattern isn’t isolated. We see it again in the opening chapters of Job, where “the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord.” Even the accuser is summoned into God's courtroom. He does not come uninvited. He arrives when called to give an account. This is not allegory. It’s not an embellished vision or spiritual poetry. It’s a glimpse behind the veil, a heavenly courtroom more real than any on earth. We recognize it as mythic not because it’s false (it’s not) but because it echoes with the weight and wonder that all good stories long to imitate.
These echoes don’t end with the council convening, though. It continues on in judgment. And not just judgment of humanity. God judges the bene elohim, the “sons of God,” spiritual entities appointed to rule and render justice. “God stands in the divine assembly,” the Psalm says, “he pronounces judgment among the gods” (Psalm 82:1, CSB). These are not stone idols or human princes in metaphor. They are real beings entrusted with real authority; they have ruled unjustly, so God judges them as unfit.
If the “sons of God” are held accountable for how they wield power, how much more should we take seriously the duties we are given? God’s structure doesn’t stop at the gates of heaven. He ordains order on earth as well. Scripture is not vague on this issue. From the very beginning, we see clear distinctions in leadership and responsibility. Distinctions that flow from God's own character as a God of order, not confusion.
We saw this start in Eden when Adam was given responsibility for the garden, the animals, and his beloved helper, Eve. Their failures didn’t relieve them of the burden of duty but clarified it further as God pronounced His judgment on each of them. These distinctions of leadership continue throughout the Bible, as Moses sets up a group of judges in Exodus 18 to deal with minor matters so he can handle the more serious ones.
Another idea we have already discussed is marriage as the foundation for a well-ordered society. This is reaffirmed in Ephesians 5 when Paul tells men to be good leaders and wives to submit to that leadership.
In the church, elders are told to watch over the flock, whereas, in Hebrews 13, the people of the church are told to “Obey your leaders and submit to them, since they keep watch over your souls as those who will give an account.” This isn’t a gender-specific command, but one that is demanded of all Christians, both male and female. However, that process may look different for married women than for married men since women are told to seek their husband’s wisdom in 1 Corinthians 14.
The structure of leadership and submission is even seen in the civil sphere. When Israel demanded a king, God gave them one, but not without warning. He didn’t say that a king’s demands were inherently sinful but that they would be burdensome. Even so, earthly rulers are accountable for how they wield their power and will be judged accordingly.
When the righteous flourish, the people rejoice,
but when the wicked rule, people groan.
- Proverbs 29:2 (CSB)
The absence of leadership doesn’t solve the problem of bad leadership. It only makes things worse. Scripture warns us about the damage caused by wicked rulers but also shows us what happens when no one takes responsibility. When those called to lead refuse to act, and those under authority reject order altogether, the result is not peace but confusion.
In Judges 21, we are given a haunting statement: “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did whatever seemed right to him.” This wasn’t freedom. It was anarchy. The book of Judges is a record of a nation in constant spiritual and social collapse: tribal violence, idolatry, civil war, and moral decay. The common thread? No one was leading. A vacuum of leadership doesn’t remain empty for long. It is quickly filled by disorder, compromise, or tyranny.
History confirms what Scripture makes clear. We’ve seen the same pattern repeated around the world. In the early 1990s, Zaire fell into violent mutiny, and the state collapsed. Zimbabwe, once known as Rhodesia, crumbled after the fall of its leadership structures, leaving behind political instability and deep economic wounds. In both nations, the absence of strong, accountable leadership didn’t result in freedom but in ruin.
And America is not immune. The 2021 withdrawal from Afghanistan revealed how quickly order can collapse when leadership fails. The scenes from Kabul were horrifying. Citizens clinging to planes. Desperate families trapped. Chaos overtook the airport. American citizens and allies died. These were not just the signs of a military failure. They were the visible effects of leadership that lacked clarity, decisiveness, and resolve. The cost of such weakness was immeasurable.
When leaders abdicate and when people reject structure, things fall apart. Weakness doesn’t preserve peace. It invites confusion and leaves someone else to pick up the pieces, whether through desperate improvisation or oppressive control.
At home, we see the consequences of abandoned duty most clearly in the family. The collapse of the family is a heinous thing, led (as is expected) by the failure of men as husbands and fathers. Fatherless homes have skyrocketed, driven not only by personal sin but by a society that rewards dysfunction: no-fault divorce laws, financial incentives for single motherhood, and a culture that treats fathers as optional at best and dangerous at worst. Responsibility is undermined, and passivity is encouraged.
The cost is staggering. Children without present, engaged fathers are far more likely to experience poverty, fall behind in school, commit crimes, and lack spiritual grounding. Though unpopular to admit, studies consistently show that children often fare better in single-father homes than in single-mother homes. A home without male headship isn’t just incomplete; it’s unstable. And the wound it leaves echoes for generations.
The same principle holds true in the church. When leadership is absent or abdicated, the church does not become more free; it becomes more fragile. Scripture commands elders to shepherd the flock and calls believers to submit to their leadership.
In many churches today, the idea of authority has been so distorted by personal autonomy and cultural pressure that few lead with clarity, and almost no one follows with conviction. Doctrine is softened to avoid offense, decisions are made by marketing teams instead of elders, and the pulpit becomes a place for performance instead of truth. Many evangelical churches hesitate to speak boldly on anything that might cost them attendance. But shepherding without clarity is not care. It is neglect.
This is especially evident in congregational churches, where final authority rests with the congregation itself. I believe this is the best model of church governance, rooted in the Protestant conviction of the priesthood of every believer. But it assumes maturity, spiritual discernment, biblical literacy, and a willingness to submit to the Word of God. When those qualities are lacking, congregationalism becomes unstable and vulnerable to the spirit of the age.
Churches flourish when strong pastors lead with courage and when congregants follow faithfully. Not blindly, but with discernment and trust. A congregation that resists all leadership will eventually unravel. And a pastor who refuses to lead out of fear will leave his people exposed.
This societal decay has become pervasive in all areas of life; family, church, community, and politics. And yet, not all is lost. Something will rise from the ashes of leaderless homes, compromised churches, and crumbling institutions. When duty has been cast off, and disorder runs its course, men will rise to help reset the culture. These men will not be perfect. They may not even be polished. And they will surely bleed from the same types of wounds that weak men refused to bear. These men are husbands who reject passivity, fathers who return home, pastors who stop pandering, and statesmen who do not flinch. Their strength is in their willingness to carry the weight that others have laid down.
We’ve seen glimpses of this kind of man in our time. For all his flaws, or in some ways maybe because of them, on the fateful day when he was shot, Donald Trump captured something that had been lost in the American imagination. He has the instinct to protect what is his, the boldness to say what others only think, and true bravery under fire of any sort. He isn’t refined, but he is willing. In a world addicted to image and allergic to conviction, his confidence is shaking the world. Let us pray this upheaval leads to a society that respects the bible again and people that seek to take dominion over their spheres of influence for the sake of bringing glory to God.
It’s no coincidence that Trump has teamed up with one of the most visionary men of our time. Elon Musk is not a moral compass, but he is a pioneer. He has revived something Americans had nearly forgotten. The urge to build, reach, and push the frontier. He reminds us that there is still land to take, dominion to exercise, and boundaries to expand.
Isn’t it sad that the inspiring men of our time are not Christians? Why don’t we have men as strong as Elon and Trump, who are also moral leaders and followers of Christ? Men who would not only defy the spirit of the age and build something grand but would point others to Christ while doing it. Even so, I will gladly take hold of this moment of reprieve that God has granted us with a second Trump term and the vision that someone like Musk casts into the American imagination. We truly do stand on the brink of another new frontier.
New frontiers will require a new kind of cowboy. Not the romanticized lone wolf, but men and women embracing their responsibilities joyfully even in the face of hardship. Men who will lead their wives well. Women who will support their husbands as they raise families in places so foreign that their descendants may one day be called Martians.
Because make no mistake, unless Jesus returns first, that frontier is coming. People will one day land on Mars and begin colonizing it. The question is, will they be godly? Will they be the kind of people who represent the kingdom of God and extend His order into places previously untouched by humanity?
What does that leave for the rest of us in the here and now? It leaves everything. Before God grants men new domains, He calls them to be faithful in the ones they already have. It begins now. In your home. In your church. In your neighborhood. It starts by rejecting passivity and stepping forward. Not with arrogance but strength. Not for self-glory but for the glory of God.
So, take up your tools. Build, lead, protect. Don’t wait for perfection, don’t wait for permission. The work is already yours.
David also said to Solomon his son, “Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LordGod, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the Lord is finished. The divisions of the priests and Levites are ready for all the work on the temple of God, and every willing person skilled in any craft will help you in all the work. The officials and all the people will obey your every command.”
- 1 Chronicles 28:20-21 (CSB)