The annual Samson Society retreat is this upcoming weekend in Eva, TN. Friday evening through Sunday morning we'll be together there at the church conference center, all +/-100 of us from all over.
The point of the weekend is to learn but to also connect with men you've not seen (or possibly heard from) in some time. Nate Larkin will serve as our host with Aaron Porter shadowing behind him. Neither of these men pretend on any level to be anything more than regular guys who're there to enjoy the company of everyone else.
It's truly the most informal, unsuspecting event I've ever been a part of. It's essentially the antithesis of a Promise Keepers event from the standpoint of drawing men who're willing to admit their weaknesses and essentially bank on those weaknesses as they engage. There's no posturing. No sizing up. No expectations. It's essentially a holiday to an abandoned Themyscira but for Samson men.
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Anytime I see an article during the late summer about Burning Man I click on it. And sure, it is partially not unlike when I was a kid leafing through the National Geographic magazines looking for photos of semi-nude, body-pierced natives. But, there is a part of me that's fascinated with these +-80,000 folks who travel to the desert to get naked and have sex with strangers.
This retreat has some similarities to that as well except that everyone keeps their clothes on.
I remember my first Silas (pre - Samson Society) using that analogy to how quickly he and I spilled our proverbial guts to each other. We were sitting on the miniscule porch of his starter home ranch house underneath the glare of the factory-grade wall sconce, and he declared our triumph at having parlayed our way through a one-night stand.
And that's exactly what (I believe) it felt like.
Awkward. Uncomfortable. But extremely freeing as well.
They'll be much of that resonance throughout the weekend if the weekend is a success.
--------------------------
So, where does God fit into all of this?
For Rob, it's part and parcel me taking more and more baby steps towards making peace with who I am today. This weekend. As an almost 50 year old man.
And I think that's where many Samson guys get hung up on what wasn't bestowed on them during these events. For they're expecting a destination in lieu of more process. Well, it's not that at all.
There will be no party favors to take home or scribbled within workbooks to refer back to. Just memories and many more questions and absolutely more stubble and sleep to catch up on.
I cannot wait!
Monday, October 28, 2019
Sunday, October 27, 2019
My Isolation Default
I'm an only child, therefore isolating as a child was my normal. My father and I had a nonexistent relationship, and of course, I wasn't a girl, therefore Darlene wasn't about to be anything to me other than mom. I've known boys who were very close to their mothers, even as grown men, but that's never been me.
I believe one of the reasons I survived architecture school at MSU was due to my penchant for isolation. As a BArch student, you're pitted against +/-45 other (mostly) young men and women in your class as your work is adjudicated (somewhat) communally. Therefore, being adept at isolation, in so many ways, is a precursor for academic survival. Hence, most of my colleagues changed majors well before the conclusion of our freshman year due to the fact that isolation is typically quite hard for the average student.
My relationship with fantastical sexual sin at this point in time was at least as strong as it had been in high school. Every day was a day to masturbate and that self pleasure was fueled by illicit sexual sin (fantasies). Weekends were particularly bad as my roommate inevitably would abandon campus to spend time with his folks (including his younger brother) back home in south Mississippi.
I believe I've said this before, but I'll say it again. If you could quantify the amount of ejaculate Rob has orgasmed over the course of his 48 years, it would no less amount to filling of a 55 gallon drum with over 3/4 of it being amassed during my college years.
-------------------------
Fast forward to the present.
This past week, I hit a wall of isolation. It had been some time since I'd dialogued with my Silas, and come Wednesday night, I chose to delve into Internet porn. I did so not for what historically was my desire (lust) to, but in order to engage within a facsimile of community...which just happened to be made up of some incredibly sexy individuals (porn models) who were somewhat convincingly pleasuring each other sans any clothing.
A day later, I went all out and engaged my middle-aged imagination in an intense sexual fantasy with a "street person". Essentially, this was an individual who I've rubbed shoulders with occasionally over the past few months, and subsequently found sexually attractive. And this absolutely harkened back to my college days.
So, I knew I was not in a good place. How then to escape?
-------------------------
Also last week was an annual 4th quarter meeting with my largest client. This meeting is pivotal in me keeping their business, therefore it's usually quite long and never not intense.
Now, I do meetings well. Having executed hundreds of them over the course of my career, I have both the stamina and the ability to navigate a group as we move from topic to topic. It's not a gift, just a learned trait. But, meetings like this one do stress me. So much so that I tend to sweat a lot. Literally.
It's usually an hour or so into the dialogue, and I can tell my deoderant isn't necessarily keeping everything deoderized under them arms. But, I think to myself, this is normal whilst putting yourself out there. And frankly, I can do that with aplomb, but you know dear reader. Albeit, there are plenty of voices who've decreed that I do it a little too "graphically".
--------------------------
So, what to do about my isolation default? Where to turn for help and how exactly to ask for it?
Same question as above.
Samson Society is first and foremost for men who're determined to escape isolation. It's written in our charter. And not through social media or becoming a deacon, but literally by marrying yourself to a specific man. Now, that word marrying may be off putting to you, but I would argue that it's applicable here.
I meet with my Silas once a week on the same day, at the same time, and within the same venue. We'd missed our last scheduled meeting, therefore it had been 2 weeks since our last juncture. In anticipation of this, I knew I needed to tell him what had been going on and why, but I didn't want to. Not that I was ashamed of my actions necessarily, but I knew in tandem with this "coming clean", I needed to give him some specific insight into how he could better meet Rob's needs [cringe].
Needs [cringe again] that will better stave off my propensity to isolate.
I DESPISE ADMITTING TO HAVING NEEDS!
But, I did it anyway. Even though, by admitting to them, I now run the risk of him not meeting those needs. And yes, I definitely perspired moreso than usual during this 20 minute personal exposition.
And you know what? I did the right thing here. But, how do I know?
My Silas isn't perfect, and he can't be expected to be. But, my God is. And I believe he desires for us to admit to our vulnerabilities. To him first, and to our brothers in Christ next. And we should do this out of respect for the seriousness of our sin problem, and the beauty of what can happen relationally through vulnerability.
In closing, if you read through the gospel of John, you see Jesus clearly. John paints a holistic picture of God's son that's both captivating and truly shocking to behold. All because of just how vulnerable John made Jesus out to be. Over and over again. If, as men, we're to follow Christ's lead, we need to be opening up to our brothers more often than not to exactly what can be done to assist us righteously - day by day. No amount of wishful thinking or otherwise can substitute the efficiency of effective communication. Psychic Silases don't exist.
I believe one of the reasons I survived architecture school at MSU was due to my penchant for isolation. As a BArch student, you're pitted against +/-45 other (mostly) young men and women in your class as your work is adjudicated (somewhat) communally. Therefore, being adept at isolation, in so many ways, is a precursor for academic survival. Hence, most of my colleagues changed majors well before the conclusion of our freshman year due to the fact that isolation is typically quite hard for the average student.
My relationship with fantastical sexual sin at this point in time was at least as strong as it had been in high school. Every day was a day to masturbate and that self pleasure was fueled by illicit sexual sin (fantasies). Weekends were particularly bad as my roommate inevitably would abandon campus to spend time with his folks (including his younger brother) back home in south Mississippi.
I believe I've said this before, but I'll say it again. If you could quantify the amount of ejaculate Rob has orgasmed over the course of his 48 years, it would no less amount to filling of a 55 gallon drum with over 3/4 of it being amassed during my college years.
-------------------------
Fast forward to the present.
This past week, I hit a wall of isolation. It had been some time since I'd dialogued with my Silas, and come Wednesday night, I chose to delve into Internet porn. I did so not for what historically was my desire (lust) to, but in order to engage within a facsimile of community...which just happened to be made up of some incredibly sexy individuals (porn models) who were somewhat convincingly pleasuring each other sans any clothing.
A day later, I went all out and engaged my middle-aged imagination in an intense sexual fantasy with a "street person". Essentially, this was an individual who I've rubbed shoulders with occasionally over the past few months, and subsequently found sexually attractive. And this absolutely harkened back to my college days.
So, I knew I was not in a good place. How then to escape?
-------------------------
Also last week was an annual 4th quarter meeting with my largest client. This meeting is pivotal in me keeping their business, therefore it's usually quite long and never not intense.
Now, I do meetings well. Having executed hundreds of them over the course of my career, I have both the stamina and the ability to navigate a group as we move from topic to topic. It's not a gift, just a learned trait. But, meetings like this one do stress me. So much so that I tend to sweat a lot. Literally.
It's usually an hour or so into the dialogue, and I can tell my deoderant isn't necessarily keeping everything deoderized under them arms. But, I think to myself, this is normal whilst putting yourself out there. And frankly, I can do that with aplomb, but you know dear reader. Albeit, there are plenty of voices who've decreed that I do it a little too "graphically".
--------------------------
So, what to do about my isolation default? Where to turn for help and how exactly to ask for it?
Same question as above.
Samson Society is first and foremost for men who're determined to escape isolation. It's written in our charter. And not through social media or becoming a deacon, but literally by marrying yourself to a specific man. Now, that word marrying may be off putting to you, but I would argue that it's applicable here.
I meet with my Silas once a week on the same day, at the same time, and within the same venue. We'd missed our last scheduled meeting, therefore it had been 2 weeks since our last juncture. In anticipation of this, I knew I needed to tell him what had been going on and why, but I didn't want to. Not that I was ashamed of my actions necessarily, but I knew in tandem with this "coming clean", I needed to give him some specific insight into how he could better meet Rob's needs [cringe].
Needs [cringe again] that will better stave off my propensity to isolate.
I DESPISE ADMITTING TO HAVING NEEDS!
But, I did it anyway. Even though, by admitting to them, I now run the risk of him not meeting those needs. And yes, I definitely perspired moreso than usual during this 20 minute personal exposition.
And you know what? I did the right thing here. But, how do I know?
My Silas isn't perfect, and he can't be expected to be. But, my God is. And I believe he desires for us to admit to our vulnerabilities. To him first, and to our brothers in Christ next. And we should do this out of respect for the seriousness of our sin problem, and the beauty of what can happen relationally through vulnerability.
In closing, if you read through the gospel of John, you see Jesus clearly. John paints a holistic picture of God's son that's both captivating and truly shocking to behold. All because of just how vulnerable John made Jesus out to be. Over and over again. If, as men, we're to follow Christ's lead, we need to be opening up to our brothers more often than not to exactly what can be done to assist us righteously - day by day. No amount of wishful thinking or otherwise can substitute the efficiency of effective communication. Psychic Silases don't exist.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Facing Your Feelings During A Samson Society Meeting - One Year Anniversary - Emotional Lightning Rod
Samson Society for Rob is a way of life, having been "indoctrinated" back in late summer of 2014, but I vividly remember the one year mark for me and how it seemed both extraordinarily milestonish and terribly burdensome.
Let me explain.
To be committed to a Samson Society meeting for 12 months is not easy for any man. There's the time commitment, but primarily, it's the gamble of what exact dynamic you're going to encounter whilst there during those +/-52 meetings and how in turn they "average" together within your mind. Samson meetings are not at all reliable from the standpoint of attendance or atmosphere, therefore it's inevitable that an hour spent won't necessarily provide the payoff / results you'd been hoping for. Plus, over time, you're going to get to know the regular guys really well. Perhaps too well in some instances - for your taste or comfort level.
Too, there's the notion of becoming an alum of an organization that's known for "sex addiction", keeping in mind that heady phrase. My pastor at Lakeside Pres (where I facilitate a group) tells me that he cannot summarize Samson any better than "guys who struggle with porn". Well, as we all know, that's not an accurate descriptor. It's much more than that, but overall, there are many men who engage with Samson who are sexually broken, and that can lead to sexual sin in the form of online pornography usage, etc.
-------------------------
Now onto the terribly burdensome part.
It's hard not to be a critical thinker whilst presented with other men's stories via a Samson Society meeting. Especially over time. And this can lead to criticism and dissonance due to the internal, very fluid dynamics within the group.
Let me explain this too.
Tangential dialogue inevitably goes on outside of meetings - and this is typically about attendees, though I wish it were more along the lines of critiquing the interior decor of the meeting space(s). As we all know, it's entertaining to obtain / give one's opinion on another man's situation / attitude / persona / demeanor / intelligence, etc. And it's difficult, over time, not to do this. Especially when their situation / attitude / persona / demeanor / intelligence, etc. is seemingly in contrast to your / our own.
And you feel bad for saying these things, but at the same time, you're not sure what else to do with it because it's become a burden - from the standpoint of pissing you off more and more each time you see this person. And typically, men who choose to engage with Samson Society are "burdened enough", if you know what I mean. Hence, the meeting itself can become an emotional lightning rod for some, and things can in turn get heated up internally rather quickly. From there, that little voice may start whispering the following into an alumnus' ears: "Pack your bags. Cut this shit loose. Break for it and run! You're way above these idiots, therefore better ON YOUR OWN!"
-------------------------
For a number of years now, Metro Jackson Samson Society has taken part in an annual rafting trip either to the Chattooga or Ocoee rivers. The trip is a wonderful 3-day experience of close bonding and adventure that's highly recommended (by me and many others). The first of these trips took place in 2016, and before that we did a canoe / kayak trip on the Okatoma river during the spring of 2015. Such sweet memories for the +/-15 men who made up each group, me being in attendance of a total of two (not counting the Okatoma canoe trip). Fun stuff indeed.
A few years back, I chose to not continue forward with these rafting trips, and this befuddled a few of my close Samson Society peers. The reason I did so was tied back to what I've described above.
For Rob, a 3-day rafting trip is not unlike one full year of meetings condensed together hour upon hour upon hour. Does that make sense? Therefore, that experience TODAY coupled with my commitment to weekly meetings is just too much fodder for criticism / disrespect for this sinner's brain. Plus, for Rob, it was that first rafting trip that was so new and fresh. I still harbor grand memories of my time together with those men (but especially with my Silas at the time).
And it's taken me awhile to articulate that, but it's absolutely true.
Now, I will be in attendance in a few weeks, taking part in the Annual Samson Society retreat in Eva, TN, but that's different. Way different from the standpoint of being grouped together with countless other Samson Society men from all over the globe. At least for Rob, within that setting, I can step back into the shadows and observe without being "fully known". And oh man, how I love to observe within these settings!
In closing, if you're one year in to attending a Samson Society meeting, congratulations! Keep up the good work, but remember to take steps against / resist the meddling of our mutual Enemy. Even if it means either taking a short break or "moving your membership" to another group (there are five, you know).
Let me explain.
To be committed to a Samson Society meeting for 12 months is not easy for any man. There's the time commitment, but primarily, it's the gamble of what exact dynamic you're going to encounter whilst there during those +/-52 meetings and how in turn they "average" together within your mind. Samson meetings are not at all reliable from the standpoint of attendance or atmosphere, therefore it's inevitable that an hour spent won't necessarily provide the payoff / results you'd been hoping for. Plus, over time, you're going to get to know the regular guys really well. Perhaps too well in some instances - for your taste or comfort level.
Too, there's the notion of becoming an alum of an organization that's known for "sex addiction", keeping in mind that heady phrase. My pastor at Lakeside Pres (where I facilitate a group) tells me that he cannot summarize Samson any better than "guys who struggle with porn". Well, as we all know, that's not an accurate descriptor. It's much more than that, but overall, there are many men who engage with Samson who are sexually broken, and that can lead to sexual sin in the form of online pornography usage, etc.
-------------------------
Now onto the terribly burdensome part.
It's hard not to be a critical thinker whilst presented with other men's stories via a Samson Society meeting. Especially over time. And this can lead to criticism and dissonance due to the internal, very fluid dynamics within the group.
Let me explain this too.
Tangential dialogue inevitably goes on outside of meetings - and this is typically about attendees, though I wish it were more along the lines of critiquing the interior decor of the meeting space(s). As we all know, it's entertaining to obtain / give one's opinion on another man's situation / attitude / persona / demeanor / intelligence, etc. And it's difficult, over time, not to do this. Especially when their situation / attitude / persona / demeanor / intelligence, etc. is seemingly in contrast to your / our own.
And you feel bad for saying these things, but at the same time, you're not sure what else to do with it because it's become a burden - from the standpoint of pissing you off more and more each time you see this person. And typically, men who choose to engage with Samson Society are "burdened enough", if you know what I mean. Hence, the meeting itself can become an emotional lightning rod for some, and things can in turn get heated up internally rather quickly. From there, that little voice may start whispering the following into an alumnus' ears: "Pack your bags. Cut this shit loose. Break for it and run! You're way above these idiots, therefore better ON YOUR OWN!"
-------------------------
For a number of years now, Metro Jackson Samson Society has taken part in an annual rafting trip either to the Chattooga or Ocoee rivers. The trip is a wonderful 3-day experience of close bonding and adventure that's highly recommended (by me and many others). The first of these trips took place in 2016, and before that we did a canoe / kayak trip on the Okatoma river during the spring of 2015. Such sweet memories for the +/-15 men who made up each group, me being in attendance of a total of two (not counting the Okatoma canoe trip). Fun stuff indeed.
A few years back, I chose to not continue forward with these rafting trips, and this befuddled a few of my close Samson Society peers. The reason I did so was tied back to what I've described above.
For Rob, a 3-day rafting trip is not unlike one full year of meetings condensed together hour upon hour upon hour. Does that make sense? Therefore, that experience TODAY coupled with my commitment to weekly meetings is just too much fodder for criticism / disrespect for this sinner's brain. Plus, for Rob, it was that first rafting trip that was so new and fresh. I still harbor grand memories of my time together with those men (but especially with my Silas at the time).
And it's taken me awhile to articulate that, but it's absolutely true.
Now, I will be in attendance in a few weeks, taking part in the Annual Samson Society retreat in Eva, TN, but that's different. Way different from the standpoint of being grouped together with countless other Samson Society men from all over the globe. At least for Rob, within that setting, I can step back into the shadows and observe without being "fully known". And oh man, how I love to observe within these settings!
In closing, if you're one year in to attending a Samson Society meeting, congratulations! Keep up the good work, but remember to take steps against / resist the meddling of our mutual Enemy. Even if it means either taking a short break or "moving your membership" to another group (there are five, you know).
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
You Don't Have Unlimited Freedom With Your Tongue. Even Within Samson Society.
Feedback from Samson Society friends that's genuinely helpful / hits the mark is good as gold. I had one of those moments this morning.
My mouth can be my undoing. Just ask men who know me really well (or my wife). Sensitivity is not a virtue of mine, therefore I tend to say it first and ask questions later. And this can result in much heartache on the receiving end of my words, coming from an arrogant, almost 50 year-old asshole.
I told my friend (in response to his criticism), that I need to be listening a whole lot more and saying tremendously less. That's Biblical, and I believe it's absolutely true for me today as well as into the future.
Therefore, I've deleted a number of posts within this blog as a result of this helpful feedback, and I plan to, going forward, not post within this www representative of our wonderful Metro Jackson Samson Society community unless it's appropriate to the following goal:
"Reinforcing the end goal of fostering authentic community amongst Christian men."
Of course, I'm readily available to be a recipient of more gold. Bring it on!
My mouth can be my undoing. Just ask men who know me really well (or my wife). Sensitivity is not a virtue of mine, therefore I tend to say it first and ask questions later. And this can result in much heartache on the receiving end of my words, coming from an arrogant, almost 50 year-old asshole.
I told my friend (in response to his criticism), that I need to be listening a whole lot more and saying tremendously less. That's Biblical, and I believe it's absolutely true for me today as well as into the future.
Therefore, I've deleted a number of posts within this blog as a result of this helpful feedback, and I plan to, going forward, not post within this www representative of our wonderful Metro Jackson Samson Society community unless it's appropriate to the following goal:
"Reinforcing the end goal of fostering authentic community amongst Christian men."
Of course, I'm readily available to be a recipient of more gold. Bring it on!
Monday, October 14, 2019
Stupid Pleasure Purchases
Stupid is a verb. It's a decision that's soon to determined as a mistake. Rob has done plenty of stupid.
As a boy / young man, I gravitated towards identifying myself via my belongings. I believe this took root in me being an only child even moreso since I had no siblings to speak of (or speak to). For "only children" have no one within the household to look to (especially older) relative to what exactly a "family's child" is supposed to look like. So, you end up winging it, and if you're not given much, if any, instruction(s) otherwise via mom and dad, consumerism can take root (here in our western culture). At least it did for me.
During one particular summer, in between my sophomore and junior years of college, I worked for a local architect here in Jackson. The year was 1992, and this sole proprietor (& his wife) were doing quite well designing million dollar + homes throughout the southeast. I didn't necessarily have an interest in residential architecture, but I saw an opportunity to work there come to fruition and I seized upon it.
This couple had an only son who was 5 to 6 years younger than I, and this was one of the first times I'd witnessed (at this point in my life) what that familial paradigm looked like - from the outside looking in. Their son was in high school but without a driver's license, therefore at times I'd be tasked with ferrying him from place to place around metro Jackson as he was out of private school for summer break. Therefore, I was able to observe him closely during these occasions. It was both interesting and humbling taking note of a boy who was also an only. There were obvious similarities - many of which I certainly didn't want to acknowledge at the time, and thankfully some distinct differences. Overall, I pitied him, and now that I think back on it, I imagine a number of folks pitied me as well as an only at that age.
-------------------------
I became a Christian at age 12. I understood my depravity on a conceptual level, but my identity as a young man was really, really, REALLY negative. And now that I think about it, I believe the younger man I mentioned above had to have been facing the same negativity. That too seemed to lump us together somehow despite our age differences.
When you find little value in yourself, at least for me, consumerism can look like an easy fix due to the fact that stuff can seem to serve to decoy others into thinking you're something (as defined by the consumable). At least, that's the hook I bought into (literally).
-------------------------
Here, dear reader, is a list (in chronological order) of some of my stupid pleasure purchases, for your reading enjoyment (& yes, I purchased these with my own $$$):
1. Omnibot (retailer - Service Merchandise) - $200
In 1985, I was close to middle school and absolutely enthralled with the Service Merchandise catalog that sat - typically - undisturbed within the wooden periodicals rack adjacent to my father's mouse fur upholstered La-Z-Boy recliner. The electronic toys section was what I gravitated towards within this sacred, telephone directory-sized tome, and it was there that I found my beloved $199.99 Omnibot.
It's unbelievable to me that there's a Wikipedia page in honor of this overpriced gimmick, but whatever. I'm so ashamed to admit to having purchased this dust collecting, plastic "conversation piece", but thankfully, years later, I sold it online to a similarly gullible boy somewhere in the northeast.
2. Honda Elite (retailer - North Jackson Honda / Yamaha) - $1,000
One of my best friends in high school won (via a sweepstakes contest at Record Bar) a Suzuki motor scooter. She was already the coolest teenager I'd ever engaged with, but now, with this awesome scooter (motor-bike), she was off-the-charts cool.
In response, I decided to one-up her by not only purchasing my own motor scooter, but one very black Honda Elite. And this in turn, gave me the ability to ride around Madison county at no more than 38 mph. Yes, I said Madison county which is where I lived with Bob & Darlene. Again, at no more than 38 mph. It wasn't like I even had access to urban space upon which to ride my glorious black Honda. I vividly remember riding the back-country roads whilst looking like an idiot and constantly praying for a strong gust of wind to speed me along. Sometimes, if I was fortunate, I'd accelerate up to 41 mph if the downhill slope was steep enough. I eventually got to the point where I'd only ride at night.
The icing on the cake though, relative to this free enterprise faux pas, was my purchase of a factory-grade, hideously ugly, iridescent electric-blue cover for the bike. It screamed "QUEER" louder than anything ever made since despite the emblazoned HONDA logo. I mean, it literally broke the mold back in 1989 / 1990. What was I thinking?
My, how envy can ruin your life (& what little reputation you may have).
3. 55 gallon acrylic corner aquarium (retailer - Petsmart) - $300
I'm ashamed to admit that I was newly married when this was purchased. Angie and I were residing in an apartment in Ridgeland at the time. The year was likely 1997, and I decided to purchase this as a birthday present to myself. Not only did I have no knowledge / interest in fish, but we likely were breaking our lease agreement by having it within our 2nd floor flat.
I'll not soon forget the twice monthly cleaning ritual as I was determined to keep the water crystal clear. What a huge, glaring mistake, which was impossible to ignore, as we sat in our apartment dining room staring at this chintzy, glowing, never-ending maintenance nightmare.
4. Coffee table gay erotica book (retailer: Amazon) - $40
I'm so sorry to have to admit this here. Please pray for me and my wife.
Every time I snuck a peek of Freeman's black & white book, I was more concerned about the second coming of Christ - at that very moment - then the beauty and sensuality of the glossy photos. What was I thinking?
5. Aussiebum swim trunks (retailer: Aussiebum) - $60
I actually wore these a handful of times to the pool. Looking back, it's hard not to laugh. I never imagined swimwear being so uncomfortable and hard to put on, and no, I didn't buy the available codpiece. I'm now convinced that Aussiebum models have much smaller pelvises than the average man.
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In closing, as Christians, there's no excuse for not staying focused on your identity in Christ. And for me, If I'm not taking stock (consistently acknowledging) of my sin nature via a support network like Samson Society, I'm eventually going to lose sight of my need for a Savior. It's inevitable. Considering that truth, Samson Society is a brotherhood which is awesomely wonderful for an only like myself. Too, if you / I simply must "invest" in something for your / my own sake (pleasure), why not invest in the very thing that's always working on your behalf to keep you properly humbled as a man? You can do so by going here.
Thanks for flattering me dear reader by reading.
As a boy / young man, I gravitated towards identifying myself via my belongings. I believe this took root in me being an only child even moreso since I had no siblings to speak of (or speak to). For "only children" have no one within the household to look to (especially older) relative to what exactly a "family's child" is supposed to look like. So, you end up winging it, and if you're not given much, if any, instruction(s) otherwise via mom and dad, consumerism can take root (here in our western culture). At least it did for me.
During one particular summer, in between my sophomore and junior years of college, I worked for a local architect here in Jackson. The year was 1992, and this sole proprietor (& his wife) were doing quite well designing million dollar + homes throughout the southeast. I didn't necessarily have an interest in residential architecture, but I saw an opportunity to work there come to fruition and I seized upon it.
This couple had an only son who was 5 to 6 years younger than I, and this was one of the first times I'd witnessed (at this point in my life) what that familial paradigm looked like - from the outside looking in. Their son was in high school but without a driver's license, therefore at times I'd be tasked with ferrying him from place to place around metro Jackson as he was out of private school for summer break. Therefore, I was able to observe him closely during these occasions. It was both interesting and humbling taking note of a boy who was also an only. There were obvious similarities - many of which I certainly didn't want to acknowledge at the time, and thankfully some distinct differences. Overall, I pitied him, and now that I think back on it, I imagine a number of folks pitied me as well as an only at that age.
-------------------------
I became a Christian at age 12. I understood my depravity on a conceptual level, but my identity as a young man was really, really, REALLY negative. And now that I think about it, I believe the younger man I mentioned above had to have been facing the same negativity. That too seemed to lump us together somehow despite our age differences.
When you find little value in yourself, at least for me, consumerism can look like an easy fix due to the fact that stuff can seem to serve to decoy others into thinking you're something (as defined by the consumable). At least, that's the hook I bought into (literally).
-------------------------
Here, dear reader, is a list (in chronological order) of some of my stupid pleasure purchases, for your reading enjoyment (& yes, I purchased these with my own $$$):
1. Omnibot (retailer - Service Merchandise) - $200
In 1985, I was close to middle school and absolutely enthralled with the Service Merchandise catalog that sat - typically - undisturbed within the wooden periodicals rack adjacent to my father's mouse fur upholstered La-Z-Boy recliner. The electronic toys section was what I gravitated towards within this sacred, telephone directory-sized tome, and it was there that I found my beloved $199.99 Omnibot.
It's unbelievable to me that there's a Wikipedia page in honor of this overpriced gimmick, but whatever. I'm so ashamed to admit to having purchased this dust collecting, plastic "conversation piece", but thankfully, years later, I sold it online to a similarly gullible boy somewhere in the northeast.
2. Honda Elite (retailer - North Jackson Honda / Yamaha) - $1,000
One of my best friends in high school won (via a sweepstakes contest at Record Bar) a Suzuki motor scooter. She was already the coolest teenager I'd ever engaged with, but now, with this awesome scooter (motor-bike), she was off-the-charts cool.
In response, I decided to one-up her by not only purchasing my own motor scooter, but one very black Honda Elite. And this in turn, gave me the ability to ride around Madison county at no more than 38 mph. Yes, I said Madison county which is where I lived with Bob & Darlene. Again, at no more than 38 mph. It wasn't like I even had access to urban space upon which to ride my glorious black Honda. I vividly remember riding the back-country roads whilst looking like an idiot and constantly praying for a strong gust of wind to speed me along. Sometimes, if I was fortunate, I'd accelerate up to 41 mph if the downhill slope was steep enough. I eventually got to the point where I'd only ride at night.
The icing on the cake though, relative to this free enterprise faux pas, was my purchase of a factory-grade, hideously ugly, iridescent electric-blue cover for the bike. It screamed "QUEER" louder than anything ever made since despite the emblazoned HONDA logo. I mean, it literally broke the mold back in 1989 / 1990. What was I thinking?
My, how envy can ruin your life (& what little reputation you may have).
3. 55 gallon acrylic corner aquarium (retailer - Petsmart) - $300
I'm ashamed to admit that I was newly married when this was purchased. Angie and I were residing in an apartment in Ridgeland at the time. The year was likely 1997, and I decided to purchase this as a birthday present to myself. Not only did I have no knowledge / interest in fish, but we likely were breaking our lease agreement by having it within our 2nd floor flat.
I'll not soon forget the twice monthly cleaning ritual as I was determined to keep the water crystal clear. What a huge, glaring mistake, which was impossible to ignore, as we sat in our apartment dining room staring at this chintzy, glowing, never-ending maintenance nightmare.
4. Coffee table gay erotica book (retailer: Amazon) - $40
I'm so sorry to have to admit this here. Please pray for me and my wife.
Every time I snuck a peek of Freeman's black & white book, I was more concerned about the second coming of Christ - at that very moment - then the beauty and sensuality of the glossy photos. What was I thinking?
5. Aussiebum swim trunks (retailer: Aussiebum) - $60
I actually wore these a handful of times to the pool. Looking back, it's hard not to laugh. I never imagined swimwear being so uncomfortable and hard to put on, and no, I didn't buy the available codpiece. I'm now convinced that Aussiebum models have much smaller pelvises than the average man.
-------------------------
In closing, as Christians, there's no excuse for not staying focused on your identity in Christ. And for me, If I'm not taking stock (consistently acknowledging) of my sin nature via a support network like Samson Society, I'm eventually going to lose sight of my need for a Savior. It's inevitable. Considering that truth, Samson Society is a brotherhood which is awesomely wonderful for an only like myself. Too, if you / I simply must "invest" in something for your / my own sake (pleasure), why not invest in the very thing that's always working on your behalf to keep you properly humbled as a man? You can do so by going here.
Thanks for flattering me dear reader by reading.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
I Dream Of Sodomy
Dreams can really throw a person for a loop. At least during the entire day(s) following.
Over the past two Saturdays, I've taken each of my oldest two daughters out individually for a run / bike ride. There's a nature trail about 1.5 miles from our abode, and oftentimes, we make the 1/2 mile loop there too once we arrive. At the front of the trail is a quiet, spacious pavilion. It's a perfect spot for a private chat.
It was amazing to me how much more my 16 year-old knew of sex education than my 14 year-old. For this was my ulterior motive in taking them out with me. As most of you know, I could talk about sex all day. It truly is my most favorite topic. And spending one on one time with my whiny teenagers sans my favorite subject simply wasn't going to happen - at least on these two particular Saturdays.
Both of my girls were shocked at hearing about sodomy. Just the whole notion of someone being sexual with their anus / rectum freaked them out. And I suppose this was to be expected due to their being females who're obviously cognizant of what a vagina is designed for. Therefore, why would you ever think to insert / consider inserting something into someone's butt?
Gross. This was both of their consensus.
-------------------------
I sometimes dream about working once again within the field of architecture or being back in architecture school. These are the kind of dreams that I wake up from and am so grateful they're only dreams and not reality. But, I must admit they're still somewhat distressing to me due to the fact that the negative emotions they convey / stir up inside of me are very, very intense. And these are emotional responses that are occurring while I sleep! Sleeping is supposed to be an emotional respite, is it not? Perhaps, but not whilst dreaming.
So just a few nights ago, I dreamt that I was sodomizing someone. I have no idea whom, but man, it was intensely pleasurable within my dream.
And then I woke up and felt as if I'd been harassed by my mind. For you see, the night before I'd spent close to an hour petitioning the Lakeside Presbyterian Church's missions committee to add Samson House to the church's annual missions giving budget. Therefore, I felt quite vulnerable and exhausted already, and certainly from there wasn't expecting to wake up from this!
-------------------------
Many years ago, I attended a State Board of Architecture continuing education class at The Old Capitol Museum in downtown Jackson. The museum had been recently renovated throughout with some super deluxe, taxpayer-funded interior finishes. For instance, the bathrooms were gleaming with polished white marble walls / floors. I remember using the restroom during a break and being shocked to see via the highly reflective polished marble flooring what was happening within the adjacent handicap stall. And in return, I was equally as creeped out over the fact that everyone else could see me as well! Stupid architect.
I believe dreams are like this. The mind, via dreams, provides us with an opportunity to almost step into another reality through this weirdly explicit sensory experience that opens up on its own. And oftentimes these dreams leave us shocked after the fact because they serve to interrupt our mental routine / thought life.
------------------------
In the past, a friend of mine found himself entangled emotionally with a very attractive co-worker and like so many of these relationships, it had matured rapidly over time into something that was much bigger and more distracting than he'd imagined it ever becoming. He recalled to me vivid sexually explicit dreams he was having that involved her, and this disturbed him greatly as my friend was married with children with no intentions of leaving his family for this pagan woman.
Thankfully, it was these dreams that, I believe, served to shock him enough to realize just what essentially might become were he to continue forward. Therefore, over time, he throttled back on his investment in the relationship 'till it collapsed entirely due to neglect.
-------------------------
As you know, my sexuality leans towards homosexual and always has. Though I've never been physical with anyone other than my wife, I've certainly entertained countless hours of homosexual fantasies within my mind's eye - particularly as a younger man. So as you might imagine, intense sodomy dreams absolutely put me back into that wretched bathroom stall, leaving me feeling exposed and very, very deviant.
In closing, I've often wondered if some dreams are simply construed within our heads to harass and humiliate us. Satan is described Biblically as the accuser, constantly throwing our sin / shame back into our faces in order to usher us towards a defeated state. And man, is he ever adept at doing just that. How much influence, I wonder, might he have over our subconscious mind while we sleep?
Here's to a good night's sleep tonight.
Over the past two Saturdays, I've taken each of my oldest two daughters out individually for a run / bike ride. There's a nature trail about 1.5 miles from our abode, and oftentimes, we make the 1/2 mile loop there too once we arrive. At the front of the trail is a quiet, spacious pavilion. It's a perfect spot for a private chat.
It was amazing to me how much more my 16 year-old knew of sex education than my 14 year-old. For this was my ulterior motive in taking them out with me. As most of you know, I could talk about sex all day. It truly is my most favorite topic. And spending one on one time with my whiny teenagers sans my favorite subject simply wasn't going to happen - at least on these two particular Saturdays.
Both of my girls were shocked at hearing about sodomy. Just the whole notion of someone being sexual with their anus / rectum freaked them out. And I suppose this was to be expected due to their being females who're obviously cognizant of what a vagina is designed for. Therefore, why would you ever think to insert / consider inserting something into someone's butt?
Gross. This was both of their consensus.
-------------------------
I sometimes dream about working once again within the field of architecture or being back in architecture school. These are the kind of dreams that I wake up from and am so grateful they're only dreams and not reality. But, I must admit they're still somewhat distressing to me due to the fact that the negative emotions they convey / stir up inside of me are very, very intense. And these are emotional responses that are occurring while I sleep! Sleeping is supposed to be an emotional respite, is it not? Perhaps, but not whilst dreaming.
So just a few nights ago, I dreamt that I was sodomizing someone. I have no idea whom, but man, it was intensely pleasurable within my dream.
And then I woke up and felt as if I'd been harassed by my mind. For you see, the night before I'd spent close to an hour petitioning the Lakeside Presbyterian Church's missions committee to add Samson House to the church's annual missions giving budget. Therefore, I felt quite vulnerable and exhausted already, and certainly from there wasn't expecting to wake up from this!
-------------------------
Many years ago, I attended a State Board of Architecture continuing education class at The Old Capitol Museum in downtown Jackson. The museum had been recently renovated throughout with some super deluxe, taxpayer-funded interior finishes. For instance, the bathrooms were gleaming with polished white marble walls / floors. I remember using the restroom during a break and being shocked to see via the highly reflective polished marble flooring what was happening within the adjacent handicap stall. And in return, I was equally as creeped out over the fact that everyone else could see me as well! Stupid architect.
I believe dreams are like this. The mind, via dreams, provides us with an opportunity to almost step into another reality through this weirdly explicit sensory experience that opens up on its own. And oftentimes these dreams leave us shocked after the fact because they serve to interrupt our mental routine / thought life.
------------------------
In the past, a friend of mine found himself entangled emotionally with a very attractive co-worker and like so many of these relationships, it had matured rapidly over time into something that was much bigger and more distracting than he'd imagined it ever becoming. He recalled to me vivid sexually explicit dreams he was having that involved her, and this disturbed him greatly as my friend was married with children with no intentions of leaving his family for this pagan woman.
Thankfully, it was these dreams that, I believe, served to shock him enough to realize just what essentially might become were he to continue forward. Therefore, over time, he throttled back on his investment in the relationship 'till it collapsed entirely due to neglect.
-------------------------
As you know, my sexuality leans towards homosexual and always has. Though I've never been physical with anyone other than my wife, I've certainly entertained countless hours of homosexual fantasies within my mind's eye - particularly as a younger man. So as you might imagine, intense sodomy dreams absolutely put me back into that wretched bathroom stall, leaving me feeling exposed and very, very deviant.
In closing, I've often wondered if some dreams are simply construed within our heads to harass and humiliate us. Satan is described Biblically as the accuser, constantly throwing our sin / shame back into our faces in order to usher us towards a defeated state. And man, is he ever adept at doing just that. How much influence, I wonder, might he have over our subconscious mind while we sleep?
Here's to a good night's sleep tonight.
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Privately (& Gleefully) Tethered To The Lovers Of Your Youth
In the past, I distinctly remember television personalities decrying that a man's sexual fantasy life was absolutely normal, healthy, and expected to exist - whether they're single, married, divorced, or whatever. And it is declarations like these that serve as one of the many reasons I choose to avoid television. I have heard some of the most asinine statements via that particular entertainment medium. I am of the opinion that television personalities are mostly articulate idiots who happen to look great on TV.
I believe the reason this statement is repeatedly made within our culture is twofold:
1. Men who nurture a sexual fantasy life do so for very specific emotional reasons, and these reasons are tied into that man's internal value (or lack thereof). Hence, it can seemingly become critically important to nurture these despite their toxicity.
2. Runaway sexual fantasy lives tend to leave their stations while a man is in his youth. And as we all know, any private sin-laden activity that's rooted in one's youth is typically very hard to break away from as an adult. It's like learning to ride a bike as a child and then being asked to unlearn it much farther down the road.
-------------------------
A history of fornication can play a role in truly gumming up the works for Christian men who're in bondage to sexual fantasy lives. Obviously, for a man to have participated in fornication, he had to have been sexually attractive enough to woo his lover into bed, and from there, perhaps, be gratified with a partner whom authenticated his efforts by responding with zeal.
"You're a fantastic lover."
"You know exactly how to turn me on."
"You are incredibly good in bed."
"I can't stop thinking about our time together making love."
Sound familiar?
It translates over well, does it not, into sexual fantasy.
-------------------------
Marriage is hard, and the marriage bed will rarely ever be any sort of basis for a man's sexual fantasy life. It's too unpredictable, and no man typically chooses to imagine his wife, of all people, behaving like some female whore robot on steroids.
That's such a hard truth, but nonetheless, it is truth.
-------------------------
My sexual fantasy life took root as I was firstly entering into adolescence, and the basis for it was my deep seated sense of worthlessness as it pertained to my sense of masculinity. My sexual fantasies were all about being pursued and ultimately seduced by my imaginary lovers. And man, were these fantasies spectacularly pleasurable to promulgate within my head(s)!
Eventually though, after many years of choosing to avoid these imaginary lovers (sometimes being victorious, sometime not), I was released. And in so many ways, it was not unlike growing up for I never truly felt like a grown up 'till this occurred.
I'm not of the opinion that sexual fantasy is ever justifiable. The Bible is clear about what we're to think upon, and sexual fantasies simply didn't make the cut.
In closing, for men who've spent a lot of time nurturing sexual relationships whilst dating (or otherwise): take the time to self-examine these salacious memories, parsing through them with a fine tooth comb. I believe this is an exercise that's helpful to debunk / dissuade the "right-side" of one's brain via the "left-side's" good work. If anything, it can serves as a starting point towards manhood.
I believe the reason this statement is repeatedly made within our culture is twofold:
1. Men who nurture a sexual fantasy life do so for very specific emotional reasons, and these reasons are tied into that man's internal value (or lack thereof). Hence, it can seemingly become critically important to nurture these despite their toxicity.
2. Runaway sexual fantasy lives tend to leave their stations while a man is in his youth. And as we all know, any private sin-laden activity that's rooted in one's youth is typically very hard to break away from as an adult. It's like learning to ride a bike as a child and then being asked to unlearn it much farther down the road.
-------------------------
A history of fornication can play a role in truly gumming up the works for Christian men who're in bondage to sexual fantasy lives. Obviously, for a man to have participated in fornication, he had to have been sexually attractive enough to woo his lover into bed, and from there, perhaps, be gratified with a partner whom authenticated his efforts by responding with zeal.
"You're a fantastic lover."
"You know exactly how to turn me on."
"You are incredibly good in bed."
"I can't stop thinking about our time together making love."
Sound familiar?
It translates over well, does it not, into sexual fantasy.
-------------------------
Marriage is hard, and the marriage bed will rarely ever be any sort of basis for a man's sexual fantasy life. It's too unpredictable, and no man typically chooses to imagine his wife, of all people, behaving like some female whore robot on steroids.
That's such a hard truth, but nonetheless, it is truth.
-------------------------
My sexual fantasy life took root as I was firstly entering into adolescence, and the basis for it was my deep seated sense of worthlessness as it pertained to my sense of masculinity. My sexual fantasies were all about being pursued and ultimately seduced by my imaginary lovers. And man, were these fantasies spectacularly pleasurable to promulgate within my head(s)!
Eventually though, after many years of choosing to avoid these imaginary lovers (sometimes being victorious, sometime not), I was released. And in so many ways, it was not unlike growing up for I never truly felt like a grown up 'till this occurred.
I'm not of the opinion that sexual fantasy is ever justifiable. The Bible is clear about what we're to think upon, and sexual fantasies simply didn't make the cut.
In closing, for men who've spent a lot of time nurturing sexual relationships whilst dating (or otherwise): take the time to self-examine these salacious memories, parsing through them with a fine tooth comb. I believe this is an exercise that's helpful to debunk / dissuade the "right-side" of one's brain via the "left-side's" good work. If anything, it can serves as a starting point towards manhood.
Saturday, October 5, 2019
Fear & Hope
To me, these are the two diminishing return emotions as they work in contrast to one another. Plus, they're simply never constant in their affectualness. So often, there's a state of mind at play relative to whichever end of the "fear / hope spectrum" you happen to land upon.
Now, everything I just wrote above is coming from a fleshly (pagan) point of view, and I know this because fear and hope can coexist well within men. In fact, healthy fear, if doing its job well, should promote hope and hopefulness. How might I have come to this conclusion? God's word.
-------------------------
Video pornography was firstly screened by Rob via satellite television at my friend's house during one of many sleepovers. We were both in middle school at the time. His persona was entertaining and lighthearted, and his divorced parents happened to both be pagans. Hence, his mother looked the other way while we took full advantage of the Playboy channel. For a 7th grade adolescent, very new-Christian boy (me), it was wildly disconcerting and rebelliously fun!
The only clip / scene I remember from these '80s pornos was one featuring a male porn model costumed up as a priest who eventually seduces one of his female parishioners. As they're having intercourse (doggy-style), he's still clothed in his pastoral regalia from the waist up. I can still see within my mind's eye him saying to the camera, "He will forgive us. He will forgive us...", with a sly smile across his lips as they had sex.
As you might imagine, I would find myself so aroused by these videos that I'd have to excuse myself from the living room in order to find a bathroom upstairs to masturbate in. And from there, whilst covered in ejaculate, I'd often wish that I'd simply drop dead due to my guilt brought on by this extreme, off the charts rebellious sexual sin. I knew it was wrong to be participating in this, but it was so unbelievably captivating to my 13-14 year old brain.
-------------------------
Yesterday, I ate lunch with a friend, and the conversation turned to Jackson Public Schools. He commented that blacks simply do not consider education a priority, therefore that particular school district will always be doomed to fail its minority students. And that statement seemed to hold water, but the more I thought about it yesterday afternoon, I began to disagree.
I personally made my education a priority due to me having both hope and fear intact within my psyche. I feared what my future as a white man might look like sans education whilst hoping, always hoping, for a bright outcome vocationally in tandem with the preparation that would come through my education. And I would argue it's hope that truly propels a group of individuals forward. To put in the work because of hopefulness grants an individual long legs to go the necessary distance with.
If you remove hope from individuals, in particular children, they aren't compelled to make a means towards a brighter future (like education) one of their priorities. As as we all know, black children overall have little to no hope permeating through their minority cultural zeitgeist.
-------------------------
Prior to my termination from the university I was employed at back in 2013, I slowly but surely clicked myself towards hardcore porn via my web browser on my office PC. One click here, another there. It was very deliberate, and I did proceed with caution early on. But, when nothing "bad" happened initially, I kept going. At the time, we didn't have (quite purposefully) an Internet connected device at our rental home, therefore I only had my work PC to serve as my official smut gateway. As more of my fears (of being reprimanded) were allayed, I carried forward with absolutely breaking the institution's info technology policy. And eventually, I threw all caution to the wind. But, in conjunction with this fearlessness came the inevitable loss of hope. And man, did it ever hit me hard.
When Christian men are mired in sexual sin, they're cognizant of their bondage to it. But bondage is qualitative. There are degrees to it. For Rob, during this time in his life, he'd experienced great seasons of victory from sexual sin - primarily due to his involvement with authentic community amongst other Christian men. But now, that community wasn't there in small town Mississippi.
Oh, how he despaired!
-------------------------
What pushes a man to completely embrace rebellion from God through sexual sin? It's lack of hope. It's the belief that these desires are so demonstrative that he's literally at their mercy. Often people bring in the word addiction at this level of helplessness, but I tend to shy away from that word pertaining to sexuality.
I have lived it, and believe you me, you don't want to find yourself in this place. For a Christian, it is beyond horrible.
Where would men be without Samson Society?
Without hope and therefore in bondage.
Now, everything I just wrote above is coming from a fleshly (pagan) point of view, and I know this because fear and hope can coexist well within men. In fact, healthy fear, if doing its job well, should promote hope and hopefulness. How might I have come to this conclusion? God's word.
-------------------------
Video pornography was firstly screened by Rob via satellite television at my friend's house during one of many sleepovers. We were both in middle school at the time. His persona was entertaining and lighthearted, and his divorced parents happened to both be pagans. Hence, his mother looked the other way while we took full advantage of the Playboy channel. For a 7th grade adolescent, very new-Christian boy (me), it was wildly disconcerting and rebelliously fun!
The only clip / scene I remember from these '80s pornos was one featuring a male porn model costumed up as a priest who eventually seduces one of his female parishioners. As they're having intercourse (doggy-style), he's still clothed in his pastoral regalia from the waist up. I can still see within my mind's eye him saying to the camera, "He will forgive us. He will forgive us...", with a sly smile across his lips as they had sex.
As you might imagine, I would find myself so aroused by these videos that I'd have to excuse myself from the living room in order to find a bathroom upstairs to masturbate in. And from there, whilst covered in ejaculate, I'd often wish that I'd simply drop dead due to my guilt brought on by this extreme, off the charts rebellious sexual sin. I knew it was wrong to be participating in this, but it was so unbelievably captivating to my 13-14 year old brain.
-------------------------
Yesterday, I ate lunch with a friend, and the conversation turned to Jackson Public Schools. He commented that blacks simply do not consider education a priority, therefore that particular school district will always be doomed to fail its minority students. And that statement seemed to hold water, but the more I thought about it yesterday afternoon, I began to disagree.
I personally made my education a priority due to me having both hope and fear intact within my psyche. I feared what my future as a white man might look like sans education whilst hoping, always hoping, for a bright outcome vocationally in tandem with the preparation that would come through my education. And I would argue it's hope that truly propels a group of individuals forward. To put in the work because of hopefulness grants an individual long legs to go the necessary distance with.
If you remove hope from individuals, in particular children, they aren't compelled to make a means towards a brighter future (like education) one of their priorities. As as we all know, black children overall have little to no hope permeating through their minority cultural zeitgeist.
-------------------------
Prior to my termination from the university I was employed at back in 2013, I slowly but surely clicked myself towards hardcore porn via my web browser on my office PC. One click here, another there. It was very deliberate, and I did proceed with caution early on. But, when nothing "bad" happened initially, I kept going. At the time, we didn't have (quite purposefully) an Internet connected device at our rental home, therefore I only had my work PC to serve as my official smut gateway. As more of my fears (of being reprimanded) were allayed, I carried forward with absolutely breaking the institution's info technology policy. And eventually, I threw all caution to the wind. But, in conjunction with this fearlessness came the inevitable loss of hope. And man, did it ever hit me hard.
When Christian men are mired in sexual sin, they're cognizant of their bondage to it. But bondage is qualitative. There are degrees to it. For Rob, during this time in his life, he'd experienced great seasons of victory from sexual sin - primarily due to his involvement with authentic community amongst other Christian men. But now, that community wasn't there in small town Mississippi.
Oh, how he despaired!
-------------------------
What pushes a man to completely embrace rebellion from God through sexual sin? It's lack of hope. It's the belief that these desires are so demonstrative that he's literally at their mercy. Often people bring in the word addiction at this level of helplessness, but I tend to shy away from that word pertaining to sexuality.
I have lived it, and believe you me, you don't want to find yourself in this place. For a Christian, it is beyond horrible.
Where would men be without Samson Society?
Without hope and therefore in bondage.
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