One notable phenomenon in Christian literature is the surge of publications aimed at defining “masculinity.” Numerous books claim to guide men toward embodying the ideal version of masculinity as envisioned by God.

These titles have sold millions, promoting traits like assertiveness, dominance, and aggression. But where did this initiative originate within the faith?

Many might attribute it to divine inspiration.

Alternatively, some might point to Gordon Dalbey.

Though not widely recognized in the Christian community, his 1988 work Healing the Masculine Soul appears to be the first significant text in the “divine masculinity” category.

Dalbey, in a footnote, reveals that his contemplation of masculinity was sparked by a 1983 newspaper interview with Robert Bly, a poet who hosted gatherings for men focused on self-improvement.

The inspiration seems to trace back to him.

For nearly thirty years, Robert Bly challenged traditional notions of masculinity.

In a 1982 newspaper interview, he reflected on his upbringing:

“Upon graduating high school in Minnesota, I was all male. It was a distinctly male environment in the Midwest, with its Norwegian Lutheran roots, and I was just a farm boy.”

Bly aspired to be a poet.

Initially, he sought to emulate Christian poets such as John Milton and John Donne, but eventually turned his focus to his own life, depicting the isolation of a man in Minnesota. Critics described him as “a Midwestern Thoreau with a dark side.”

During the late 1960s, amid the Vietnam War, Bly found his voice in political poetry. As a progressive Democrat, he perceived America as straying from its moral path, adopting the stance of an Old Testament prophet condemning societal failings.

Bly’s readings transformed into minor ‘happenings.’

Students found it compelling to witness a white man critiquing America, though his poetry often targeted broader issues.

“The ministers lie, the professors lie, the television reporters lie, the priests lie.”

He addressed the genocide of Native Americans and seemed to embrace a more indigenous perspective.

Bly concluded that the deeper issue was America's overly masculine identity.

He felt that the essence of poetry was feminine and advocated for a shift towards this feminine spirit. A critic notes that “Bly denounces everything associated with masculinity and extols the feminine perspective.”

His interviews often served as reflective exercises, contemplating the need to re-evaluate entrenched beliefs. He suggested that many writers grappled with repressed sexual issues, stating:

“With most writers, sexual energy sits stagnant. It’s a lump with Hemingway, with Plath, with Mailer, and Anne Sexton.”

Yet, he argued that the repression stemmed from Christianity, remarking that other religions lacked such constraints.

Bly began to venerate the ‘Great Mother.’

This was a peculiar shift: a poet resembling a Viking man performing pagan poetry about a cosmic maternal force.

He frequently spoke in what appeared to be an attempt to ‘deconstruct’ traditional Western thought, masculinity, and established customs. Not everyone embraced his ideas; one reviewer dismissed a Bly reading as “nonsense spouted through his poncho.”

At times, Bly would verbally lash out at his audience. A retrospective recalls a performance from the 1970s:

“Standing over six feet tall, with a wild mane of thick dark hair, he took the stage in a Peruvian serape, alternating between reading poems and berating the crowd. ‘Why are you smiling? Do you think that poem is funny? You look ridiculous. I’ve never seen such a zoo full of grinning monkeys!’”

Instead of solely tearing down, Bly sought to uplift.

In 1980, he initiated conferences for men to rethink masculinity in the wake of the Women’s Movement.

These gatherings took place in California and the West Coast, among liberal men who respected feminist ideals. Media portrayals often labeled this movement as “New Age.” Bly recognized conservative Christian men as a target audience for his ideas.

Foregoing biblical references, he highlighted a tale he believed to be ancient.

Bly analyzed a fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm, suggesting it encapsulated the journey to achieving mature masculinity, devoid of divine context.

The story of “Iron Hans” revolves around a boy who encounters a “wild man” in the woods, learning from him about attaining the highest male identity. Bly proposed that boys benefit from spending time with older men to experience a form of initiation into manhood.

However, what truly catalyzed change for Bly was not initiation, but divorce.

Reflecting on his life, one can see that divorce in 1979 and subsequent remarriage in 1980 were pivotal moments. His allusions suggest a prolonged affair with his eventual second wife. This tumultuous experience appeared to liberate him from Christian constraints, allowing him to forge his own path.

Embracing feminist critiques, he pondered whether men were also oppressed—by religion, family, and societal norms.

Bly's attempts to redefine manhood occasionally faltered.

In a 1984 report, he remarked that men could have sexual desires that women might find objectionable.

If women disapproved, Bly suggested, “you hit them in the mouth because no one has the right to dictate another’s true desires.”

An assistant quickly interjected, cautioning him about his language.

Bly clarified, “Yes, I meant, verbally assault those women!”

Over time, he matured into a wise, paternal figure within the “men’s movement.”

In 1990, he featured in a PBS special, A Gathering of Men With Robert Bly, and published Iron John: A Book About Men, which unexpectedly became a bestseller for a year.

The legitimacy of his techniques for male “initiation” remained uncertain. His events often involved awkward embraces and drum-playing.

His message seemed to encourage men to dismantle the emotional walls imposed on them. He invited men to embrace vulnerability and femininity as a means of authentic self-expression.

Men were often unaccustomed to the notion that they could alter their life narratives.

Male behavior appeared predetermined by external influences. The real shock of Iron John and Bly’s work lay in the revolutionary idea that one could craft their own story.

In 2006, a man recounted this appeal:

“It felt as though Bly was revealing a secret about myself and many young men I knew. We were graduating from college with exceptional educations but lacking practical skills, holding lofty expectations yet facing few immediate opportunities, with no clarity about what kind of ‘men’ we were meant to become.”

Bly’s message was clear: You have the power to decide for yourself.

At times, Bly was mischaracterized as a conservative or right-wing figure.

He faced inquiries from feminist activists at public events regarding his stances on matters such as abortion rights, to which he expressed support.

Nonetheless, Bly’s work consistently operated within a progressive framework. In a 1990 interview with New Age Journal, he even dismissed Donald Trump as failing to embody true manhood, stating, “I don’t think Trump’s doing any of that.”

Reflecting on his work with men in a 2009 profile, he described it as an invitation “into a space where men are not competitive but rather welcoming.”

Christian circles took note of Bly’s work with men.

While they were not fond of his poetry or his persona, they latched onto his notion that men could engage in self-improvement.

Their aim was for men to work on becoming more “Christian.”

This led to religious reinterpretations of Bly’s ideas, beginning with Gordon Dalbey’s Healing the Masculine Soul, followed by many others. John Eldredge’s 2001 book Wild at Heart, which frequently referenced Bly, is perhaps the most notable. Eldredge’s interpretation of “Iron Hans” recast Jesus as the “wild man” guiding individuals on their journey.

The significant “Promise Keepers” movement for Christian men in the 1990s was similarly influenced by Bly’s work. Yet, there was little acknowledgment of Bly himself.

He had simply presented an idea that resonated with the religious community: that men have the potential for change.

In subsequent decades, Christians authored books aimed at transforming men into the type they deemed divine: anti-feminist and authoritative. The archetype was clear: a man following the script... adhering to established norms.

Over time, the genre of “Christian men’s literature” largely forgot Bly. Occasionally, when he was remembered, it was noted that even some “liberals” had aligned with their views.