Dear Effeminate Pastor, Here’s Why You’re Bleeding Men

Dear Effeminate Pastor,

You stand on a stage, not a pulpit. Beneath theatrical lights, not the burning fire of truth. Draped in pastel rebellion and accessorized like a department store mannequin on discount, you glide across the platform like a self-help seminar host with a theology degree from Instagram. And you wonder, out loud, why men won’t darken your doorway.

You scratch your head while lamenting from your acrylic barstool why your pews are filled with Pinterest moms and therapy junkies, while the men stay home, grilling burgers, throwing footballs with their sons, or just reclaiming their dignity in silence. The answer isn’t buried in mystery. It’s staring back at you in your own reflection—right there under your scoop-neck cashmere blend.

You're hemorrhaging men.

Not because men have abandoned Christ…many have, but that isn’t why. It’s because your church has abandoned them. You’ve swapped the lion’s roar for a kitten’s purr. The sword of truth for a feather duster. You’ve alchemized the radical call of discipleship into a self-help session set to acoustic guitar.

And your attire? A sermon in fabric on how to castrate masculinity without ever drawing blood.

You dress like a gender studies major on laundry day and preach like a man apologizing for the God he claims to serve. You mistake cowardice for meekness, spinelessness for gentleness, ambiguity for nuance. You whisper sweet nothings from the pulpit because you’re terrified of conviction, allergic to confrontation, and addicted to applause.

This isn’t just about your pink sweaters, delicate gestures, or cropped pants that scream 'urgent identity crisis.' It’s the whole curated aesthetic: the Instagram-filtered sermons, the caffeinated sanctuaries, the emotion-simulating light shows that make church feel more like a boutique wellness retreat than a battlefield for souls.

You invite open homosexuals posing as pastors to lecture on sexual ethics. You platform men who dress and act like female fashion influencers, and then ask why your church has become a man-repellent zone. Spoiler, it’s not because men hate church. It’s because they hate pretending they’re at a Hillsong cosplay convention every Sunday.