The Whole Man
Part 2: A Blueprint for the Builder
I loved the fictional television character Randall Pearson from This Is Us! The show depicted a Black man who was a caring son, a committed husband, a present father, and a successful leader. He made breakfast in the mornings, attended plays and recitals, and provided his family with a beautiful and stable life.
He also lacks identity and struggles to find his footing. Adopted by a white family, who, in their grief after having triplets, as one of them dies shortly after birth, decided to take home this abandoned black boy. Randall, from boyhood, is complex: highly intelligent and deeply curious. He struggles with bouts of crippling anxiety when the pressure of living up to his own expectations becomes too much.
He grows up, existing in the middle-class suburban life of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, going to affluent, mostly white private schools so that his genius is properly nurtured—unfortunately, to the detriment of his racial identity. But through it all, he is both loved and learning to love.
What I admire about the depiction of Randall is his intricacy and presence. He isn’t perfect, but faithfully shows up in each area of his life (husband, son, father, friend, brother, employee, leader), sometimes even at the cost of his own sanity and mental health. Many men, especially men of color, can identify with Randall.
I find that most of our culture, and the systems and institutions that support it, are ill-equipped to serve the Randalls among us. The men of color who are not destitute nor down and out, but still struggling to find a place that appreciates and understands their complexity. A place that invites them to show up as their full selves. To bring the nuance of their lives and experiences as they traverse the treacherous paths of American life.
I had breakfast with a friend the other day, and this very conversation came up! He shared that he feels we live in a space where, to receive adequate attention, you have to be either a troublemaker or a rainmaker. But what about the gifted millennial or Gen-Z man of color who is seeking to build a life and be faithfully present?
Where do they go?
Especially for the Christian man of color who struggles to find a place to learn, grow, be served, and serve. The man who wants to be challenged, loved, and invited in! Where does he go to learn about manhood, leadership, and presence? Where does he go to become whole?
Last year, I was asked to record a lesson for a curriculum for a Christian young adult fellowship. This fellowship guides young adults ages 18 to 24 on a 9-month journey of service and learning, including studying the lives of biblical figures and working in community. The curriculum design team had the creative idea of asking leaders like me to record a video discussing a specific biblical figure and tying it to a fictional character from a movie or show, and to clip specific scenes into our talk that drove that point and connection home.
The person I was asked to design my video around was the leader, Nehemiah. Nehemiah is a biblical/historical figure who serves in the Persian government but is allowed to return to his homeland, Jerusalem, as governor to rebuild the city. I’ve always been fascinated by Nehemiah and His leadership. So much so that I even wrote a short five-day devotional, Building From the Heart: Lessons in Godly Leadership to For Rebuilding What’s Broken (you can download it here on my website), to help leaders think through how God is calling them to engage in the rebuilding and beautification of their cities.
When I thought about how I wanted to convey the story of Nehemiah, with all his passion for righteousness, justice, and restoration, I thought about Randall. I considered how Randall was a man who loved deeply! In his love for his biological father, he comes to love the community that his father spent most of his life in. I used the following clip as one example of Randall advocating on behalf of the people he loves and is growing to know.
Unfortunately, if you watched the scene above, things don’t go as smoothly for Randal and the Councilman’s relationship as this conversation does. This launches Randall into a pursuit of justice and rightness—to set in order what has long been neglected, just as Nehemiah did.
Maybe you are Randall.
Complex, capable, and showing up: in your home, your workplace, your community, your church. You are making breakfast, attending the meetings, and carrying the weight of leadership with both hands. But somewhere underneath all of that faithfulness, you are wondering if anyone actually sees you. Not the version of you that performs well under pressure, but the full you—the one still searching, still becoming, still trying to figure out what it means to be a man, a leader, a father, a son.
I see you. And more importantly, God does too.
What moves me about Nehemiah is that before he laid a single stone or rallied a single worker, he went out alone at night to survey the broken walls of Jerusalem. He looked at what others had learned to live with. He sat with the weight of it. He didn’t rush past the brokenness; he let it break his heart first. That’s what made him a builder worth following.
The world needs more men like that. Men who are willing to look honestly at what’s broken in their cities, in their families, in themselves; and instead of walking away, say, “Come, let us rebuild.”
That is the posture of a present father. That is the posture of a faithful leader. Not perfection. Not having it all together. But showing up fully, honestly, consistently, even when the walls are still down.
Wholistic success isn’t about mastering every domain of your life. It’s about refusing to compartmentalize your humanity. The man you are at home is the same man you are at work. Your daughter or son sees a father who is both strong and tender. The people you lead see a man who advocates fiercely because he loves deeply. Randall showed us that it was possible. Nehemiah showed us it was ancient.
And somewhere inside of you, you already know it’s yours to reach for. You’ve been reaching for it all along.
So here’s my question for you: what are you waiting for?
That’s exactly why I’m partnering with MADE for PAX to facilitate the MEN in Leadership fellowship, a space for BIPOC men who are ready to do the deep work of becoming—a table where you can bring your full self and leave more whole than when you came.
This cohort is for the man who is already leading, or knows he’s called to, but is tired of doing it exhausted, isolated, and spiritually depleted. We’re going to work from the inside out. You’ll discover your leadership posture—whether you’re a Builder, a Reformer, or an Expander—and develop the inner life, relational skills, and sustainable rhythms to lead with wholeness and longevity, because the world doesn’t just need more leaders. It needs leaders who last.
This is for the Randalls and Nehemiahs among us.
If that’s you, there’s a seat at the table with your name on it.
Nehemiah didn’t rebuild Jerusalem alone. You weren’t meant to build your life in isolation either. Come, let us rebuild. Together.
A Look Ahead
But Randall is fictional, and Nehemiah is historical. Next time, we look at someone who is both fully human and fully the answer, and whose life gives us the clearest picture yet of what it means to be present, whole, and free.
