Home (Hell) Economics (To The NO)

I was describing to a Samson brother my life growing up as it pertained to my mother's role within our abode.  Before I go there, you must know the ranch house the Turners resided in was modest but typical for the '70s (when it was constructed) in that the lot was sizable.  Hence, it was plenty big for team sports (which there were none), tons of landscaping (which there were plenty & room for more), dog pen (there was one), fruit trees (a few), etc.  You have to remember, dear reader, that social media didn't exist back then, therefore we weren't all just sitting around staring at our pocket computers all day - inside our house.  Obviously, the yard served us well for at least nine months out of the year.

My mother was not only the professional home / yard economist but also the decorator / designer.  It was like living with Martha Stewart but without the college degree (or the millions in personal net worth).  Refined, by Mississippi standards, is how I like to think of Darlene back in the '80s (during my childhood).  She was, at the time, in her late 20s.

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Wives who don't Darlene their abodes are normal.

It took me awhile to realize this, but after just a few short months of being married to my sweet Angie, she effectively beat / threatened it in to me.

The majority of men are really only interested in sex within the home.  And this is because they're men.  For a guy who's made a commitment to marriage, he feels entitled to it.  And on his watch, thank you very much.

So this presents a quagmire.  Who's to keep up the home if the husband / wife / children who reside within have no focus there?

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A little background on my 'rents before I go any further.  My mother grew up in poverty in rural northwest Mississippi.  And when I say rural, I'm referring to - out in the middle of a soybean / cotton field rural - with only a dirt road between the house and nearest highway.

My father grew up not far from that spot, but within the nearest small town (population:  +/-1,500).  The household he grew up in had maids and cooks.  Most of which were men.  These blacks did everything for my father and his 3 brothers, and they didn't leave the house at night 'till the children were asleep in bed.  Essentially, they were indentured servants from the standpoint that were they to fall down on the job, the only other work available to them was out of doors in the Mississippi heat / humidity amongst the laborers within the fields.  My grandmother, when she was present, issued the orders relative to housework, yard maintenance, cooking.  She was excellent at being a hyper critical authoritarian.  Believe me, it was her gift.

So...you put two teenagers together like these two, being reared in these very distinct but dynamically different environments, and you end up with the household I was reared within.

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Now back to answering my question.

The men ought to take the lead here.  You're more physically capable.  Plus, you're the head of the household.

Now, does that mean he's responsible for everything?  No.  But, he should be responsible for the tough items that no one else really wants to handle or can handle with aplomb.

And why is this?

Taking care of your home is a perfect analogy to being involved in Samson Society (when Samson Society hasn't become a social club for you).  It's quality work that gives back over the course of week.  You attend a meeting, stay in touch with your Silas, and your week / marriage is better for it.

Do you want to admit to anyone that you've just spent a couple of hours engaged in housework - vacuuming / mopping, cleaning out toilets, sorting / washing / drying / folding laundry, loading / unloading the dishwasher, dusting, cleaning out the garage, taking out the trash?  No.

Do you want to admit to anyone that you're committed to an organization like Samson Society - its weekly meetings and The Path?  Probably not, unless they're a close friend or perhaps someone you feel compelled to invite.

But if you'll take the lead within your household, hopefully you'll find some help will lovingly fall in line as a result.  Again, not unlike doing the work within Samson Society.  I just feel it's a valid analogy.

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Do you recall a couple of years back, the mainstream S & M films made from cheap, online erotica novels?  I believe they were titled 50 Shades...

The books / films were modeled around the notion that a woman could become romantically captivated to a man who insisted she sign a relationship contract with him.  From what little I know, the contract stipulated the terms of their relationship, and him being the framer of said contract, of course, it was biased towards him, his needs / desires, etc.

It's an age old idea (that's rooted unfortunately in the not so distant past).  Wives as property.  No different than any other asset on the Balance Sheet.

What's not at all surprising is that these books / films were consumed in droves by none other than modern day women.

Of course, it didn't help matters that the protagonists was a self-made billionaire, but I digress.

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So men, do the work.  Set the standard.  Lead by serving your wives well.  Mr. Clean isn't just a fine example of marketing genius, but a secret weapon of many a husband who's itching to bed his gratititous wife.

And keep coming to Samson Society meetings (& communicating with your Silas).  The example you set is just as effective at fostering change / maturity as the work that you're choosing to prioritize.

High Risk

My first Silas (pre-Samson Society) believed I was psychic. That supposed precognitive ability of mine (from his point of view) was tied to a heightened emotional state of mind.  I never quite knew what to do with that opinion, but nonetheless, I do know that all of us have eyes connected to a brain and most of those brains have the ability to think / forecast or analyze risk.

I can remember specifically warning him on a few occasions regarding what I believed (or felt) might play out for him in relation to his dealings specifically with those in authority over him.  And suffice to say, those alarms proved to be accurate.

But, I'm certainly not psychic.  Just sometimes quite concerned.  And at times, so much so that I speak up.

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I was a high school marching band geek at the private academy I attended in Madison back in the '80s.  One of our band directors during my tenure there was a believer in mandatory band camp.  If you're unfamiliar with that concept, it was a week in the summer spent, usually at a community college campus, learning the rudiments of the fall's marching show(s).  I can't say band camp was much fun, but neither was band overall.  Yet, it was a placeholder for the geeks and freaks of high school, and that was enough.  Everyone needs a place.

One of my bandmates, whom I somewhat remember specifically, was a year older than me.  He was an avid horn player and loved skateboarding.  Everywhere he went, he had his skateboard, but this was especially so whilst with all of us at band camp.

Being a band geek meant you certainly weren't athletic, but obviously riding, jumping, performing stunts with a skateboard was / is best reserved for individuals with some or much athletic skill.  This guy had only a minuscule amount.

But, he tried hard.  Plus, he got a skater's haircut.  Yet, in the end, the skateboard got the best of him, and he ended up with a broken leg.

I distinctly remember him on crutches for what seemed like forever and a day as he hobbled around school with his entire leg within a cast first then a giant stabilizing boot.  That cast / boot threw a wrench in everyone's (mainly his fam) schedule relative to caring for this wounded teen.  Nonetheless, it was sobering to observe from arm's length, not once suspecting that he'd end up with such an injury.

From there, the skateboard went into the garbage, but he kept the haircut (which actually looked pretty good on him). 

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When is it smart to speak up on behalf of high risk behaviors / conditions / scenarios in an attempt to warn a brother / demonstrate concern in Christ?

I put the answer to that question into the same category as making a move on your wife in an attempt to get laid.

One must proceed with the other person's well being in mind.  Otherwise, their reaction (no matter what it may be) will potentially make too much impact (positive or negative) on your own self-worth (which should only be rooted in Christ).

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Intercourse within the marriage bed is in line with God's design when it's executed with the other's needs in mind exclusively.  And that also pertains to whether or not your spouse is interested in coitus at all at that particular time.  This can be a hard sell for guys, but nonetheless, it's scriptural.

And this leads or points us towards the next level of relationship down from there.  That being friendships.

Your friendship is an investment in another man, but not for your own good.  For his.  Therefore, opening your mouth in warning should never be executed to make you look smart or him not so smart.  It's an act of love through caring.  Caring enough to speak up.

Otherwise, you're simply being too self-centered / self focused.  And that's no good for either your spouse nor your friends.  

Say it with me now.  I.  Care.  About.  You.  Even to the point of risking your rejection of me in relation to my concerns.

Lastly, the older you are, typically, the more experience-based counsel you're privileged to share.  I would argue this far exceeds the value of even being psychic.

Several

Back when Angie and I were first married (20+ years ago), a good friend of hers from college was slated to be married in Houston, TX, therefore we drove there for the nuptials and while Ang was at the early Saturday morn staging / bridesmaid brunch (the wedding was Saturday afternoon), I chose to use my time alone within a strange city not so wisely.

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I can remember one of my bosses alluding to me potentially finding a record of "hot tub sex" on his laptop's browser back in the early days of the www (dial up).  This occurred whilst asking him if I could borrow it to do some research for an architectural project I was working on.  He obviously didn't know how to clear the browsing history, and subsequently, he blamed his stepson for what I might stumble across, which I thought was both clever and cowardly.

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The adult bookstore I browsed through that day in Houston while Angie was across town at Second Baptist Church had one thing I wanted to experience, and that was the "back rooms" where you could screen porn within what can only be described as "porn stalls" (they're like makeshift ADA compliant bathroom stalls).  I'm not sure how I became familiar with these backrooms being in existence conceptually, but nonetheless, I was intensely curious.  Since this was well before the advent of the www, these backrooms served as an outlet for men to not only screen porn but to hook up with strangers as well (this latter purpose hadn't quite registered with me at the time).

I had visited my local adult bookstore here in Jackson on a few occasions, but I was not about to even inquire if they had a back room area for fear of looking even more perverted / bumping into someone I knew, but in Houston, TX, due to my anonymity, these concerns weren't valid.  Hence, my foray into the seediest, most despondent place I've ever found myself within - literally it's the closest thing I've experienced to hell on Earth in terms of the emotional fallout.

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So, why was I doing this on such a noteworthy Saturday while my wife was preparing to celebrate with her college friend?

I wanted to look at gay porn whilst satisfying my curiosity / rebellious itch.  It was as simple as that.  Plus, I felt empowered / predestined to do so.

And this did occur within one of those "porn stalls" prior to me making a discreet exit.  Thinking back on it now, it was similar to the time I skinny-dipped in our neighborhood swimming pool around 1 AM on a summer morning as a high school student.

After cleaning up (they conveniently provided paper towel dispensers), I decided to never, ever, ever do this again.  It was akin to stepping off into a cesspool of darkness, and the shame inducing clincher for me was the audacity of me willingly participating in these shenanigans behind my new wife's back - while she was at church nonetheless!

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I've had friends who've chosen to also venture down the same adult bookstore back room road that I just described, only to find themselves taking strangers with them back home for sex.

It can happen.  You get a lot of horny men together...within a setting like that...really dark outcomes can result.

And this leads me to our present circumstances relative to the www and the opportunities which abound for hook ups / porn use galore.  Right from the comfort of your own home / office.  But before I go there...

To circle back to my former boss and his stepson story, I never once believed he wasn't the culprit, but too, I didn't get the sense that it was more than a one-time affair.  Of course, I may have been wrong, but my hope is, even to this day, still intact.

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So what is the difference in a one-time event versus a several-time event?  I did title this post as such.

All of us take that first step into sinful behavior.  Whatever it may be.  This behavior is what defines us as fallen.  But its those who return back to that same behavior that are truly selling their souls (I'm convinced of it because I've done it!).

My dad has told me a story (on a few occasions) of him traveling on business as a young man, and taking the opportunity to consume pay-per-view porn within his hotel room.  Apparently, he was up most of the night as he took advantage of the privacy / convenience.  From there, he made a commitment to never return to that sinful behavior, and knowing my father, he kept that promise to himself from that point forward, knowing full well that sexual sin just isn't a problem for him and never will be.

When I was at my lowest point whilst working in Cleveland, MS, it was both the isolation as well as the gosh awful shame born out of - yet again - returning to Internet porn use.  Oh how much self-loathing I was in bondage to!  It was absolutely suffocating.  Hence, I was desperate for rescue and relief!

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Sometimes, we must get to that point.  That point where our "solution" literally begins to rip our souls in two in order for us to be in the very best place of desperation.  Desperation which precedes God's hand of impactful acting deliverance.

I have a Samson friend who I've known for many years now.  He's not active within the community but once was here in Jackson back when there was only one centralized group.  His communication with me is and has always been fragmented / sporadic, but nonetheless succinct and therefore enough to sustain the cursory relationship.  For quite some time, he's reached out to me during his lowest periods, and I've always been honored to lend an ear.  Whether it was related to his struggles with alcohol, his family, his health, work or his sexuality.

Last Friday, I received a call from him, having not heard anything for a few months.  He was in a tough spot again with his health and work.

So, I listened and we prayed.

But then later on during that same day, he disclosed the truth about where he actually was holistically (figuratively) as well as what he'd been up to since we last spoke.

And that's when my heart broke, and I found myself reliving vicariously those final months whilst in Cleveland, MS.  The sense of powerlessness was immense combined with the fear and desperate heartache for my rebellious brother.

And I'm still there in many ways, even as I type this.

There's something to be said - as human beings - for dabbling in sin.  It truly is what defines us like a viral infection that affects every part of our lives.  That being said, it's genuinely stupid and high risk yet very, very normal.  But it becomes altogether different when you commit yourself to that sinful behavior, forgetting these truths, returning again and again to choices which will ultimately lead to certain death.  May all of us see that slippery slope.  God help us all to long for redemption and rescue from ourselves before it's too late.

Rob's Modus Operandi As A Silas

I ask a lot of questions, which as a Silas I have a right to do.  Even if they're really uncomfortable questions to be asked.

I listen well, taking in as much detail as I can out of respect towards the friendship.

When I reach a point where I feel there's been some breakthrough, I'm going to push hard in order to attempt to ascertain where to go from there.  I see it as a plateau where there's a wide vista from which opportunities abound.

I play my cards close to my vest because Silases aren't supposed to even have cards.  But that's an illusion.  It seems that way due to how much Silases are called to listen.

What's cool (& very rare) is when the man I'm serving as a Silas towards begins to mirror this same MO towards me.  From there, mutual, equalized trust begins to form, and within this trust is a constant, symmetrical push / pull.

It's these friendships which are such a gift.

When Frightful, Personally Influential People Die

For me at least, I feel a bizarre sense of hopelessness.  As if I was much closer than I actually was to the individual and ultimately am concerned for their continuation within the afterlife.

The hopelessness is also tied to their life on Earth being over, and therefore my understanding of them having no chance of being any different overall - for the better, for the overall good of humanity.

I'm thinking in particular to two individuals.  One who died a few years following our leaving Cleveland, MS behind and another who died just yesterday.

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I know Scripture decrees God's appointing of individuals into positions of authority / leadership, and because of my belief in the authoritative nature of Scripture, I accept that as truth.

And you must know that I'm a positive thinker overall.  I gravitate seeing the good in the present, past, and future.  So maybe that's what serves to interfere mostly in me making peace with the fact that these individuals are gone from Earth forever.

Take for example, the man who died this week.  He was an academic, a scholar in the best sense of that word.  And due to my chosen career path, I could not avoid his influence within my young, collegiate life.  But oh how I loathed even crossing his path with my own!  He exuded such an air of cruelty and disdain, and that mindset came through in spades via his countenance (especially so within his eyes).

The last time I engaged with this man was 5 or 6 years ago during a weekend architectural tour of a deceased Mississippi architect's work in Meridian.  Even then, outside of the four walls of academia, he was no less frightening to spend time with.

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My grandmother also fit into this category (she would be the third), now that I think about it.  And when she passed, I too felt this way about her.

Again, to reiterate what I said before, you just want to see redemption within their lives, but knowing that change must come from within.  Healing.  Repentance.  Change.

Not so they can be any different as a created being within their respective role, but that they can be better.  Much, much better.

Your Reputation (Race / Sex / Sexual Orientation) Precedes You / Take A Chance On Me - Part 2

I was first and foremost a boy, and boys didn't cry when faced with circumstances that were simply par for the course / everyday life, etc.  Like all boys, I knew this because of our culture as well as what I'd witnessed amongst my cousins / other extended family (being an only child).  A precedent had been set for me as a young boy, and I wasn't about to fault it.

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My 3 girls all have teeth that require much professional attention (thanks to their DNA), therefore their mother and I take them to the exact same pediatric dental / ortho group in Jackson that she and I were taken to by our parents.  What's interesting about this is the setting is absolutely no different than it was in the late 1980s (when my wife and I were children).  Same exact building, interior finishes, decor.  Even the people working there (for the most part) are also the same.  It's like we're stepping back in time when we're in there with our kidlets.

I cannot underestimate the terror I felt as a boy regarding visiting the pediatric dentist, and it wasn't due to anything he'd / his staff had done or threatened to do to me.  It was simply the clinical setting.  Something about doctors / dentist offices absolutely terrified me as a child.  And this did not begin to diminish 'till I was a teenager.

This morning, my middle daughter had her braces removed from her lower teeth, therefore I did the mandatory parental escorting, waiting, talking to the orthodontist, etc. at this aforementioned office.  Thankfully, my daughters have had none of the anxiety that I experienced as a child at the pediatric dentist / orthodontist.  

Now, let me explain just how bad it was for me.

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I slipped into the small bathroom off of the lobby as soon as we arrived this AM as my daughter checked herself in.  It's a miniscule space (by today's standards), and whilst sitting on the throne to quietly urinate, I flashbacked to my childhood routine.

Typically, I'd start having stomach cramps / diarrhea at this same point 40 years ago (stepping foot inside the door of the lobby), and from there, I'd go back and forth (3 or 4 times) into and out of this same tiny bathroom 'till my name was called (usually within 15 minutes).  My mother would wait patiently in those same vinyl upholstered chairs in the lobby that I sat in this morning throughout this gastrointestinal routine of mine.  

But, I'd never complain or cry or express any of my negative feelings externally.  Never.  Instead, I kept it all bottled up inside because this is where I believed boys were supposed to keep their emotions - positive or negative.  Hence, my stomach cramping and subsequent diarrhea served as my physiological reaction to said pain.  

I desperately wanted to fall into line with my sex, so to speak, despite the fact that my body / mind were screaming otherwise.  It literally felt as if I was being torn in two with my brain on one end and my bumhole on the other.

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It's easy to admire people who face their fears, but I'm often moreso impressed with those (especially men) who're willing to admit (with thoughtful precision) to them existing to begin with.  Being able to articulate that well is so very not "man-like" (by our culture's standards / expectations).  

And so there's the rub.

Where do men (Christian or pagan) like myself fall / land who struggle with lust / sexual sin, taking into consideration how foundational the notion is that we as males keep everything under the sun bottled up inside of us?

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Before I attempt to answer that, let's return to my earlier post, and the cultural expectations it presented.  

Many, if not the majority of Christians (or not) would say (in light of what was detailed within the Part 1 of this post) that it never makes sense to "muddy the waters" that much further whilst taking into account a certain people group's "cultured" reputation.  And this conclusion is drawn from the premise of "the greater good" as well as the notion of "not saying anything at all unless you have something good to say".  

In other words, hold back on revealing your true sin nature specifics, and do this not to save your face but everyone in the group's (minority / sexual orientation, etc.) face.  You catch my drift?

Though it sounds like a cop out towards personal cowardice, instead I believe it may point towards something that has happened / is happening that's instead fueling a distinct reaction in the opposing direction.

Eventually, bottled up problems force their way out into the light.  Especially if they're tied to one's sin nature. 

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As stated earlier, my anxiety / fear towards my dentist / orthodontist as well as all the clinicalness of the setting was managed by boy Rob in the worst possible way.  That being through denial of what was actually going on inside of me.  Therefore I managed it privately.  As best I could with lots of toilet paper in hand and henceforth a very raw anus.

Today, sinners are finding an out for what they cannot control (sin nature) inside of themselves, and that out is a digitally connected community that's willing to listen to them "through / via the veil" of the www.  And oftentimes that listening results in relationship(s) which may or may not result in an entirely different way of seeing sin for what it truly is.  There's a real gamble there due to that veil, but to so many, that gamble is a risk worth taking in order to find some relief.  And who can blame them?

And I believe this is the church's greatest liability to being relevant for these individuals (the majority of us) going forward.  For it's the church that seemingly makes it too difficult to find sanctuary simply through firstly forgoing that denial that something is terribly wrong.  And this is because there's no digital veil to hide behind at the local church.  Hence, your reputation / your family's reputation / business, etc. is truly on the line if you choose to open up within that setting.  Not to mention the fact that firsthand rejection is far worse than that which may occur within the digital realm (I speak from experience).

As I've stated before, I love the church, but I worry about how she's actively being positioned to take on this newfangled digital juggernaut called the World Wide Web.  Where so often sinners do find temporary relief (freedom of expression) without considering the long term potential loss of any sanctimonious way finding. 

Recommended Reading From The Gospel Coalition

Two fantastic posts that are well worth reading:

https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/social-media-algorithm-rewards-grace/

https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/assessing-elders-digital-age/

Your Reputation (Race / Sex / Sexual Orientation) Precedes You / Take A Chance On Me

What must it be like to grow up as a young man within this culture who happens to be black as well as a devout Christian.  To be more specific, a Christian who's motivated to remain faithful to all Scripture as well as his role as an adopted son of God, taking his faith seriously indeed, and therefore looking to eventually marry and have children, giving himself the privilege of leading as husband / father.

Within a similar vein, what must it be like to grow up as a young man within this culture who happens to be gay as well as a devout Christian.  To be more specific, a Christian who's motivated to remain faithful to all Scripture as well as his role as an adopted son of God, taking his faith seriously indeed, and therefore looking to eventually marry (a female) and have children, giving himself the privilege of leading as husband / father. 

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My local McDonald's was once (& may still be) managed by a black man named Charles.  Charles was close to my age (46), though a few years younger.  We'd chat on occasion when I was in the restaurant sipping an iced tea or mocha frappe.  I'd sometimes attempt to steer the conversation towards his faith by asking personal questions relative to church, and I recall specifically him citing his disdain for his local black congregation due to their propensity to embrace adulterous behaviors as part of the norm.  That was sad to hear but intriguing from the standpoint of him reneging on his people group.  Which leads me to...

sorta my own lot in life as a Christian man who's also one who struggles with homosexual desires yet chooses to see my fellow gay behaving brothers as headed in the wrong direction morally.  

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I grew up in the '80s at First Baptist Church Jackson.  At that time, the Senior Pastor was Dr. Frank Pollard.  In terms of articulation and humility plus intelligence, there's was none moreso than Dr. Pollard.  Considering FBC was a Southern Baptist church, this made his tenure there all the more special.  Frank Pollard was born and raised in west Texas, therefore in terms of minorities, it would have been Hispanics more than blacks that provided local color during his growing up years.

One Sunday morning during one of the three sermons he was slated to preach, Dr. Pollard made a statement that drew ire of the one singular black choir member up in the loft.  The comment amounted to him citing his pity towards blacks relative to their people group as whole, and from there, the black choir member took it upon herself to exit stage left.  As you can imagine, it was akin to other publicity stunts that people feel so moved to enact.  But, I must say, it got her point across.  And that is, no one, no one, no one needs to expose hard, unspoken truths.  That is, unless you're able to codify that truth with real world experience.  

Stay tuned for Part 2.

Powercoitus

+/-10 years ago, I dedicated myself to strength training / bodybuilding.  I started with a once a week workout before (after 6 months) graduating to twice a week.  7 or 8 years ago, I trained for a 5k with a group from Lakeside Pres and haven't looked back.  So, at the present, I strength train twice a week and run twice a week.  As a boy who shied away from athletics, instead embracing music and art, this was a significant paradigm shift for me that wasn't easy in the least.

Most middle age Mississippi men are overweight as a result of zero involvement in physical activity.  Fried foods and loads of carbs are their mainstay southern meals, topped off with either booze or diet soda.

And oddly enough, Christian men seem no different overall here in the great state of Mississippi.  I didn't want that for myself long-term despite the fact that it feels like a natural progression as men age.

This trend is fueled by a lackadaisical mindset towards being fit that's become epidemic.  Hence, a man's tastebuds rule along with his eyes.

See it, smell it = eat it (lots of it).  Physical fitness = zero interest.

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On Christmas Day last year, I went for a run with one of my daughters who was riding her bike beside.  I believe it was around 10 AM.  Our typical route is essentially an access road that runs parallel to adjacent neighborhoods to our own.  From what I recall, it was sunny out and very mild.  Whilst making our way to our turnaround point 1.5 miles from our house, I couldn't help but notice an SUV loaded up with four fat, unkempt mid-30s white men who were all glued to their pocket computers, poking and scrolling, punching and loving on those precious things.  20 minutes later, during our return trip, they were more or less in the exact same spot idling in the middle of the road, all doing the exact same thing.

Then I realized what they were doing.  Call it a cultural epiphany.

Christmas Day Pokémon.

I then stopped running and walked up to the vehicle.  It took a few seconds for anyone inside to take note of my presence before the driver rolled down his window.  From there, I asked him if I could pray for them.  He stared at me whilst rapidly blinking.  I then reached in and grabbed one of his hands.  He reflexively put down his cellphone and bowed his head.  My off the cuff prayer for these men went something like this.

"Dear Lord.  Thank you for this Christmas and for Jesus who we celebrate on this special day.  We pray this morning for a mindset of honor and respect towards your holiness and love for us.  We ask that you help us to be men who acknowledge the gift of your son, Jesus, throughout our lives.  Go with us throughout the remainder of this day.  In Jesus name I pray, amen."

From there, I smiled, thanked them and continued to run.  And I haven't seen them since.

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Over the past few weeks, I have made one change to my strength training regimen, and that's incorporating powerlifting (or some semblance thereof).  Powerlifting is maximum weight, but for Rob it's really just much more weight than I'm used to for a few less reps.  Still, it's been a shock to my system on one hand while truly invigorating me on the other.  There's something about pushing myself towards a breaking point within 10 steady, very heavy reps.  In fact, it actually hurts to do these reps at some of my joints.  All in all though, it's energizing to test my limits.  In many ways, I feel as if I've trained all these years to now move to this next logical level.  And not because I'm trying to prove something or gain additional muscle mass.  Instead, I'd like to think I'm headed in this direction as a natural physical progression - particularly considering that I'm not naturally athletic by any means.

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Back in 2014, a client of my 'rents up in the Mississippi Delta was interested in having us assist their hourly employees with enrolling them into Obamacare, therefore I was volunteered to take on this task.  Most of these were good natured, hardworking men who'd been employed there for some time.  It was interesting to assist them in enrolling, and obviously I learned a lot as they answered each enrollment question personally.

One fairly young man stated that he had fathered a dozen children via a dozen different women.  I asked him why, and he said he'd always wanted a lot of kids.  Thinking back on that today, I believe Eddie Murphy has a similar story that he's made no attempt to shy away from.  It also makes me think of men within countries like Belize or Africa where the notion of engaging in powercoitus is a way of life.

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So what is powercoitus?

It's the natural progression of intercourse when it's exclusively classified as a physical activity, divorced completely from the emotional / spiritual.  Not unlike strength training or running.

Coitus is meant to stay within the confines of marriage.  Whilst there, it represents the union between husband and wife.  But, of course, that's only by choice.  It's not like a husband's wiener will only fit within his wife's vagina.

So, what lays the groundwork for men to progress towards powercoitus?

Sexual activity early in life and multiple sex partners either prior to or during marriage.  Not to mention a propensity for some men to emotionally engage exclusively via sexual activity.

My Silas has stated that if there's one thing he could erase from his past, it would be his memories of the women he'd intercoursed with prior to marriage.  And this is due to the fact that those memories gnaw at him even today.  To be more specific, they complicate his relationship with his wife because they're part of a narrative that should never have been written with his body.

The Bible cites sinning against one's body.  Especially as a Christian, it identifies the body as the temple of the Holy Spirit.  Therefore, sins committed against one's body are distinct, and unfortunately make a lasting impression.

And this is where powercoitus begins to seed itself as a naturally feeling, physical progression.  All the while, the spirit of God living in us as Christians is prostituted.

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A new friend of mine (tangential to Samson Society), who's a resident of sunny Florida, has been married for decades to his beautiful wife.  They're in their late 50s, have grown children and numerous grandchildren.  This man is also into strength training (as is his wife), and we connected thanks to Mr. Nate Larkin at some point late last year.  It's been my privilege to walk with Todd over the past few months.

Throughout Todd's marriage, he's been unfaithful via +/-80 sex partners, and none of this powercoitus was anything more (initially) than for the fun of sexual activity alone.  On some occasions, the sexual relationship would develop into a friendship as well, but always, the initiator / language of connection (if you will) was sex.  If you do the math, taking into account a 20 year period of time, that equates to one new sex partner per quarter (every 90 days).  And that, dear reader, is a typical example of powercoitus.

Whilst dialoguing with my new friend about this eye-opening part of his story, he admitted that many, many more sex partners came to be - over the past 5 to 8 years - thanks to the advent of hookup apps.

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And that leads me to my conclusion.

Money making technology is being created / refined daily to exploit men's fleshly bent towards powercoitus.  That is sexual activity with no strings attached.  Hook ups.  Friends with benefits.  The swinger lifestyle.  And it's leading an awful lot of people straight to hell.

Therefore,

beware of powercoitus.  It feels so right and looks to make sense as a natural progression, but like everything else that works against God's will, it's a massive deception.

Lagniappe

Recommended Reading From My Favorite Pastor, J.D. Greear

https://jdgreear.com/blog/what-it-really-means-to-have-our-minds-transformed/

Traveling With A Liquid Drug In Your Hand

My first Silas found the motivation to commit to Samson Society via a cataclysmic juncture between his taste for booze (beer) and Louisiana law enforcement.  And unfortunately for him, this juncture occurred during a perfunctory business trip.  I'll never forget the privilege of accompanying him to his arraignment (+/-18 months later).  I watched him stand before the judge to officially start the lengthy legal process of living out the punishment / procedural hurdles for his wrongdoing.  Afterwards, I recall eating lunch with him at Five Guys (my first time) there in Lafayette, and though we were glad to be done with those proceedings, the brevity of what had just occurred within his life as well as the lives of all the other drunks / now criminals, seated itself deep within me.  In the end, it made me thankful that I'd been reared within a household where alcohol was absent.  It sent a message of normalcy downstream from my 'rents.  A message which elevated teetotalers as individuals who could have fun, be funny, feel confident and emotionally whole (be cool) sans booze.

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The private academy where I attended high school didn't do a lot of preaching to us middle to upper-middle class suburban white students.  There were only +/-40 in my class, therefore each K-12 grade had its distinctly averaged behavioral aroma, and as a result, the primary identifiers (students) within my class were definitely on the rebellious side.  Perhaps that's why an "expert" was tasked with coming in and dialoguing with us about alcohol.

I remember her asking us firstly what the most popular recreational drug was across the globe, and I spoke up and answered her with alcohol.  She seemed a little surprised at my response, and whilst looking back, I don't know how or why that particular word came to my mind.

Unless...

there is that one family member who is an alcoholic.  His shenanigans did make an impression on me as a child.

The "alcohol expert" was engaging.  To all of us.  She was confident and obviously smart not to mention physically attractive.  I felt fortunate to be hearing from her relative to being reminded of why I'd chosen not to drink booze.  As a teen, having outside (of parents) positive influence speaks volumes.

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Drinking alcohol is and always has been cool.  Kind of like tattoos are now cool and therefore will always be cool going forward.  It's an identifier of who you are based on the drug type - beer, wine, liquor, cocktails, etc.  Again, like tattoos, highly customize-able.  Therefore, most all adults drink alcohol, but I'm convinced that whilst traveling away from home, they do it much, much more in order to ramp up their cool quotient.

I know this because I've observed it firsthand, but too, I hear friends talk about how booze plays into their travel-time reflexively.

So, what does it mean to be cool?

To be cool is to not be a freak or seemingly freakish.  Cool people radiant that they belong within the crowd instead of on the perimeter of it.  Coolness draws no attention to itself, therefore it's in no way anamolous.  It blankets an individual and therefore imbues confidence.  In fact, it's a confidence that necessitates a desire for always being cool.  Hence, the pursuit of boozing.  Especially whilst experiencing the elevated stressors (new settings, inherent risks, unforeseen delays, dampened expectations, etc.) of travel away from homebase.

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I was in the southwest region of our beautiful country most of last week.  January had been declared a dry month (from booze) for a number of people who were with me whilst away.  One colleague exclaimed her anticipation and excitement of February 1 relative to returning to booze.

And there's the rub.  Boozing starts out exclusively for cool before becoming tasty and delicious on top of cool.  And oftentimes, it leads to intoxication which points back to the beginning of this post and the inherent risks.  This migration is risky in and of itself.

The next time you're traveling (preferentially by air), play a game.  That being, "I Spy".  Within all of the travel mags on the flight and otherwise, take note of the over inclusion of booze, photographed beautifully in order to emancipate the setting(s) from any implied un-coolness.  From there, observe people at eateries, those with and without bars, both in the airport and at your (assumed) vacation destination.  Take note of their beverages of choice.  And finally, watch yourself and how much you too are actually drinking to be drugged.  And remember, if you want to be cool, look to tasty and delicious booze.  Just don't ask yourself how much experience / usability by God you're forgoing whilst pursuing cool.  Personally, I do believe (within certain settings), the answers to those questions will be sobering and then you're back to un-cool.  And this is exactly where the alcohol industry wants you to shy away from.

Not uncool