Unwanted

If your whole identity is built on who didn’t want you, what’s left when someone finally does?

That’s the tragedy of the incel movement. It feeds off rejection but has no idea what to do with love.

The term “involuntary celibate” began as a raw, honest confession. But over time, it hardened into a belief system. One that says, “I am unwanted, and someone must pay for it.” The blame often falls on women. Sometimes society. Rarely on self.

And it’s not just a fringe problem. Young men are being discipled, not by Scripture or mentors, but by anonymous forums, short-form videos, and rage-filled echo chambers. They are learning to believe that loneliness is someone else’s fault and that masculinity is about control.

Here is what Scripture actually says:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit… blessed are the meek… blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:3-5).
“Love is patient and kind; it does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude… it is not irritable or resentful” (1 Corinthians 13.4-5)

That is not the theology of the incel movement. That is the identity offered in Christ.

The incel mindset teaches a parody of manhood. Where Christ emptied himself, they demand to be filled. Where Christ served others, they sulk. Where Christ loved the ones who failed him, they rage against the ones who ignored them.

Jesus does not bless bitterness. He transforms it.

What begins as loneliness can become a life built on blame. That is not a neutral shift. It reshapes how someone sees others, especially women. It redefines masculinity as entitlement, not as responsibility or love. And it twists rejection into a kind of religion—one that sees every slight as proof of injustice and every woman as either an object or an enemy.

Resentment says, “I am unwanted, and someone must pay.”
The gospel says, “You are wanted, and someone already has.”

You were made in God’s image, not to conquer others but to reflect his character. Your value does not come from your dating record, number of followers, or physical appearance. It was declared at the cross.

Jesus understands rejection. He was betrayed, dismissed, mocked, and crucified. And he responded by offering grace.

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief…” (Isaiah 53:3)

That is not weakness. That is what real strength looks like.

If you are wrestling with your place in the world, hear this: You are not broken beyond repair. You are not worthless. But you cannot build your life on blame and expect it to lead to peace.

You were not made for conquest.
You were made for communion.
Not to dominate but to love well.

That starts with becoming the kind of person who listens more than they talk, who repents more than they accuse, who sees women not as obstacles or objects but as image-bearers of God, and who has more to offer than complaints or contempt.

This is not about fixing yourself with self-help or charm. It is about being formed by something real.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

You do not have to stay in the shadows. You do not have to keep performing rejection over and over again.

You were made for more than pain.
You were made for redemption.

‌‌‌‌~PW 🌮🛶‌