Homes don’t thrive on love, money, routines, or even good intentions alone. While all these are important, homes often thrive on the quiet strength of emotional intelligence — the strength that sustains love and steadies every season. Without it, all the rest quickly fray.
In one of my recent reflections, I wrote about emotional intelligence in the home and the role women often play in carrying that weight. After reading it, a friend reached out and said, “I really loved your views on emotional intelligence in the home and the role women play in it — but I’d love to see the male perspective of this conversation.”
I knew what she meant. Women tend to carry the emotional load at home — moderating, self-regulating, knowing when to speak and when to stay silent. But emotional intelligence isn’t meant to rest on women alone. Men can, and should, embody it too. Scripture gives us some moving examples.
Take Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus. He was betrothed to Mary, and everything looked set for their wedding. Then suddenly, he discovers she is pregnant. No explanation or confession from her yet. Imagine his hurt, his disappointment, his sense of betrayal. By all cultural expectations, Joseph could have made her a public spectacle, even demanded her punishment. But instead of lashing out, he chose restraint. He resolved to quietly call off the engagement so she would be spared shame. In his own personal heartbreak, he still thought of her dignity. That’s emotional intelligence — compassion and empathy under control. Imagine being in Joseph’s shoes. How many of us, when deeply hurt, would choose restraint instead of retaliation?
Then there is Elkanah, husband of Hannah and father of Samuel. His household was complicated; he had two wives, and while one had children, Hannah had none. Her barrenness was a source of deep anguish, made worse by the taunting of her rival, Peninnah. Elkanah could have ignored Hannah’s sorrow. After all, he already had children through the other wife. But instead, he noticed her pain and assured of his unending love. In 1 Samuel 1:8, he gently asked her, “Am I not more to thee than ten sons?” It wasn’t a perfect response to her deepest longing, but it was empathy. He sought to comfort her, to steady her emotionally when her heart was breaking. His response shows a form of emotional intelligence that speaks volumes. And here’s a thought — when a loved one is grieving or feeling less-than, do we instinctively rush to ‘fix things’, or do we pause to offer steady presence?
Boaz is another example. Ruth, a Moabite widow, had come to Bethlehem with her mother-in-law Naomi. In a culture where widows were incredibly vulnerable, Ruth followed Naomi’s instructions and approached Boaz at night, lying quietly at his feet. She placed herself in a risky and easily misunderstood position. Boaz could have shamed her, taken advantage of her, or sent her away. Instead, he responded with kindness and honor. He covered her reputation, reassured her, and promised to act in a way that secured her future and dignity. His empathy, discernment, and protective response changed the course of Ruth’s life and brought her into the lineage of Christ. That’s emotional intelligence in action. What would it look like today if more people responded to others’ vulnerability with kindness and honor, rather than judgment?
And then there’s Job. His story is one of unimaginable suffering — losing all his wealth, all his children, and even his health in a single stretch of calamity. His grief was heavy, and his wife, also crushed by their losses, urged him to “curse God and die.” In that moment, Job had every reason to collapse into despair or lash out at her in anger. But he didn’t. His reply, though not flawless, was measured: he offered perspective, reminding her that life holds both good and bad. He stayed calm, even while sitting in ashes with his own pain. That self-control and perspective, even when his world was collapsing, is a mark of emotional resilience. Can you picture yourself in that place? Would frustration have gotten the better of you, or would you still hold your peace?
And these lessons aren’t limited to Bible times. Even today, men can show emotional intelligence at home in practical ways — choosing to de-escalate instead of raising their voices, showing restraint in anger rather than letting it spill into words or actions that wound, listening fully before rushing to conclusions. These small decisions carry the same quiet wisdom we see in Scripture.
So what do these men show us? Emotional intelligence is not weakness; it’s strength under control. And it’s not a one-sided virtue either. When both men and women embrace it, marriage thrives. Submission for the woman becomes less about suppression and more about mutual trust and respect. Leadership for the man becomes less about dominance and more about sacrificial love. As Scripture puts it: “Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband” (Ephesians 5:33).
Emotional intelligence, when shared, creates homes built on mutual respect, trust, and love. And it leaves me wondering — what would our families look like if we all chose this kind of wisdom in the everyday moments?
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