The Sandpaper of the Mind - Part 4

The myth of the self-made man has been with us for centuries. There’s something intoxicating about it; the rugged loner, bootstrapped and bulletproof, carving his own way through the world. It sells books, builds brands, and fills social feeds with the gospel of isolation disguised as strength.

But make no mistake: hyper-individualism isn’t virtue. It’s a slow, quiet self-destruction. A rugged, bootstrapping suicide.

We weren’t built for solo missions. From Eden onward, man was made to walk in fellowship; first with God, then with others. The Lord said, “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18), and that truth echoes through every failure of the isolated modern male.

Alone, we are vulnerable. Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally. Mentally.

The man who lives without counsel, brotherhood, or challenge eventually begins to rot from the inside out. He talks only to himself, reinforces his own ideas, and insulates himself from anything that might sharpen or sanctify him. He confuses control with clarity and independence with integrity. A man accountable only to himself has a fool for a master.

Consider Robinson Crusoe; a literary monument to self-reliance. Crusoe builds, farms, survives. But the story doesn’t truly begin until Friday arrives. Man becomes fully human only in relationship. Until then, he’s a productive ghost.

Or take Victor Frankenstein who, in pursuit of pursued personal glory apart from community, ended up haunted by the very thing he created. Isolation and uncounseled ambition created a monster and the doctor’s downfall. Mary Shelley wasn’t just warning about science; she was warning about men who walk alone.

Hyper-individualism appeals to the ego but starves the soul. Proverbs 15:22 reminds us: "Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisers they succeed."

But in a world where podcasts replace pastors, forums replace fathers, and playlists replace personal conversation, men are unrooted and uncorrected. Like a motorcycle tuned for top speed but never ridden with a group, they miss the point (and the joy) of the journey.

Coleridge, in Rime of the Ancient Mariner, portrays a solitary sailor cursed by isolation. His redemption only begins when he blesses life outside himself; when he sees beauty beyond his own survival.

In the church, we’ve baptized this disease with phrases like “personal walk with Jesus.” And while that’s true and necessary when done well, it was never meant to be only personal. The apostles lived in fellowship and created communities wherever they went. Christ discipled in groups. Even God exists in Trinitarian community.

To be made in God’s image is to be made for communion.

C.S. Lewis once said, “Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind.” Hyper-individualism is simply pride with a productivity filter. It looks good on the outside. But it’s rebellion all the same. And it is killing men. Men without elders drift. Men without brothers fall. Men without teachers stagnate. Men without correction decay.

So here’s the call: don’t die polite. Die sharpened. Open your garage. Join a crew. Submit to elders. Sit under hard teaching. Ask for correction. Risk disagreement. Trust the man who wounds you in love. Because the man who walks alone might feel free; but the man who walks with others finishes the race.