My middle daughter and I were in AR last week and whilst there, we had dinner at a memorable Hot Springs sports bar. The restaurant was tucked in the corner of a strip shopping center adjacent to our hotel which made it too convenient to not pass up.
The early evening was just beginning to see some drizzling rain as we brought our travel-weary / empty stomachs through the pair of storefront doors. The sports bar was understandably dark inside but very clean and spacious. Despite the fact that it was a weekday evening, there were a number of middle to upper-middle class patrons enjoying the friendly atmosphere. With live music playing and sports channels supersized (projection) on most walls, there was plenty to take in / relax by.
We enjoyed dining on high sodium, high fat appetizers combined with homemade chili and pizza. It was extremely satisfying and had we been drinkers (middle daughter isn't quite old enough to drink yet but bear with me), a cold beer(s) likely would have only made it that much more enjoyable.
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My first Silas (we cross pollinated; therefore, I served as his Silas in kind) was an alcoholic. He'd unfortunately (fortunately?) received a DUI a few weeks prior to walking into his first Samson Society meeting back in the early fall of 2015. This served as his primary motivator to move into recovery.
Internet porn consumption was also, at the time, a big part of his life. And most of this was occurring at his office. Surprisingly, this behavior was unrelated to his alcohol abuse.
He would tell me stories of how sports bars were his "second office" whilst out of town on business (he traveled 3-4 times a month). Per the man: Once he'd successfully located a familiar-looking one (early to mid-afternoon), he'd situate himself at the bar with his laptop / cellphone ON GO ready to down as many craft beers as conceivable. This would go on 'till the wee hours of the morning. From there, he'd oftentimes find himself so inebriated that he'd no idea how to find his way back to his hotel, therefore he'd simply black out along the perimeter of some random retail parking lot. Therein, he'd sleep off the booze there amongst the freshly mulched Indian Hawthornes.
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As a Christian, we're called to be imitators of Christ. Also, I'm filled with the Holy Spirit, therefore in and through me my behavior should exude this. And it does, yet I cannot deny that my flesh comes along for the ride. My flesh has memory. History, if you will, that reflects my past (recent / distant).
Over the past 8-9 months, there's been a newbie at the Y who bears a striking resemblance to a very popular, very handsome television star. The defining attribute of this actor is his impressive, arduously sculpted frame.
Let's just say you could take 1.5 Robs and pack them into this muscular 40-year-old dude.
I took the initiative to introduce myself to this newbie a month or so ago, and he's now reciprocating the cordialness when our paths cross, even going so far as to discreetly track my movements in and through my improvised strength training routines.
I don't feign the attention / interest, for I know it harkens to our now familiarity / newfound friendship. Plus, all of this forecasts tighter connection / trust. And who doesn't desire that? I certainly do.
What's challenging though is how two-faced I feel. Why? I'm reminded constantly, whilst in his presence, of how awe-inspiringly attracted I am to him. For there's truly not been another masculine archetype (of my own) within that space (during my lengthy tenure) who's appearance / presence wasn't on par with his own.
And unfortunately, me no longer politely ignoring him has indirectly exacerbated my desires. Desires which aren't by any means not ruefully kept in check, but far less easy to reign in whilst dilly-dallying with gay porn lackadaisically.
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If I were my aforementioned Silas 1.0 (from 2015), eating dinner last week within a nondescript sports bar in Hot Springs, AR (even with my offspring) would have been woefully irresponsible in regard to my never-ending recovery. As his Silas, had I found out about this stupidity, I would have questioned it outright.
Comfortable, familiar, private settings, I would argue, can be the driving force behind a mindset of permissiveness. Place = expected behavior.
I'm no theologian, but Jesus did embody his humanity at 100% combined with being God also at 100%. Yet, according to Scripture, he did not Fall into sin.
I believe much of this had to do with his eternal perspective. A perspective that pitted his knowledge of all things up against the temporary bliss / novelty of sin.
I am not of the opinion that he had any sort of God-enhanced humanity which positively impacted his senses, provided him with supernatural physical endurance, etc.
His mind was the mind of God and therefore the outlook of God. Heaven, no doubt, was his home. And therein, he never allowed its address to ever be but a thoughtful heartbeat away.
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Presently, I use gay porn mostly at work, and this pays homage to the beginnings of me becoming captivated by it. Work setting(s) represent familiarity in regard to this escape. They're my version of a sports bar.
What's happening though is these casual gay porn interludes are eroding my ability to be Christ-like to the degree (actively but mostly internally) that I'm called to be. Particularly within settings like the Y (where I've recently made my new friend). And the resulting problem isn't the fragrant allure of the revolving door that wafts within my proverbial nostrils. Not at all. Instead, it's the reassurance of an IDENTITY that's sure to be re-accredidated within my mind. An identity of compromiser. Cheat. Time-waster. Fraud. Even self-flagellator.
You've seen these young people cut themselves to draw blood. Seemingly, they do this within an oft mindless state of consciousness. From there, the pain / woundedness therein from these small lacerations reset / solidify their IDENTITY amidst the soothe. I can relate to this. For what's occurring privately within my mind (w/ my newfound friend) at the Y represents the scarring I've received from my own poor choices. Specifically, it decrees that you ARE A PHONY / FRAUD due to the undeniable dermis damage.
Please pray for me. Pray that I'll stop compromising. It's hard enough to be Jesus-like without the negativity / aroma of shame off-gassing from every sanctified pore. It's like smelling your own body odor with no readily available escape from one's own reek.
It's so weird how I fall back to an IDENTITY that I know will only hurt me further. It proves how much disdain I truly have for my own self.
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