Refrain From Reverse Engineering (Then Overthinking) The "Attachment Theory"

I believe the "Attachment Theory" holds a lot of merit for guys in active recovery, but when parents of small children attempt to reverse engineer it, we've found that they tend to overthink / way overreach it.  From there, they may very well do more harm to their children (& marriage / family) than good.

For example, let's say you didn't / weren't allowed to properly attach (emotionally) to a parent(s) as a small child.  Hence, this, no doubt, will impact your emotional health as an adult / (potential parent).  From there, let's say you marry and choose to have children of your own.  And you're privy to the "attachment theory", having studied it extensively.  Therefore, you choose to overcompensate (hyper-attach?) whilst rearing your own child(ren) as a result.

We've seen parents do this by giving their children free reign.  Very few constraints.  Very few boundaries.  And this can result in children becoming elevated / entitled pretty quickly.  To the point that they're the ones ruling the roost.  

It's a weird scenario, and I'm convinced most children who're within the throes of it do realize that it is back-assward (relative to their peers). 

For as you know, children are brilliant.  Somewhat powerless, for sure, but certainly brilliant.

My advice to you, Samson brother, is to ONLY delve into this theoretical work from the standpoint of understanding your adult self (who's in active recovery).  From there, I would argue that your recovering / recovered self (as a parent) will do a far better job rearing your own children by default (on autopilot).  In essence, trust your recovering self to not make the same mistake(s) as Mom and Dad did.

 Reflections on a "Desiderata" life, pt. 1

The word "Desiderata" can be traced back to the root word "Desidero" in Latin. Loosely translated, it simply means "desires of the heart." 

The Latin Word dēsīdĕro

has several meanings. Of these several meanings, the most fitting one can be seen as:

 To desire or to want, to long, to wish for, to request, to require, to need

For the next eleven weeks, I will be walking verse by verse  through one of my favorite poems, "Desiderata."  
Desiderata ~ by Max Ehrmann ©1927

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Sometimes, life is just noisy. Right now, I am in a season of life where I have very little "alone time."  The moments, the hours, the days and the months...they are quickly fleeting and vanishing. Many times, I have to remind myself to slow down and take it all in. The moments when my soon to be ten year old son says something funny that makes me truly laugh from deep within or the moments when my fifteen year old dog wants to lay next to me in my favorite chair and snuggle as he rests his weary body...moments such as those are quickly fleeting and will soon vanish. 

As someone who struggles with (but is recovering from) anxiety and depression stemming from past abandonment and rejection issues, isolation and alone time can be dangerous for me. As an introvert with a capital "I," isolation comes naturally and quite easy for me. Indeed, I love to isolate and be alone; I find it easy to tell myself that I don't need people...

But the honest truth is, I do need people. I really do.  And people need me (or at least I would like to believe they do.) As crazy and non-stop busy as life is at times, I remind myself that I need to be mentally present, be engaged, and love others while doing life. And so it is, that I choose to go "placidly amid the noise and haste" that is my everyday life. But there are small pockets of precious time, windows of opportunities if you will, that I am afforded times of silence. Sometimes my old dog and I sit together in our favorite chair as I read God's word or a novel. Sometimes I will leave my desk and take a quick stroll around the beautiful campus of the venerable and esteemed institution I work for. It is there that I find peace; I find peace in the silence. 

Nearly five years ago, on a cold January day in 2019, my oldest friend had brain surgery at Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville. As a surprise to him, I drove to Nashville the day before his surgery to be with his family and sit with them as he went into surgery the next morning. Because of work and school commitments, this was a solo trip and my family did not accompany me. As soon as he went into recovery the afternoon of his surgery and I knew he would pull through, I left to make the return trip back to Mississippi. On the return trip home, nearly 7 hours in length, I never once turned on the radio or had any distracting noise in the car. My time during that trip was spent in conversation with God as well as ruminating in my own thoughts. To this day, that has been one of the most peaceful trips I've ever been afforded the privilege of having. 7 hours of glorious silence. It did my soul an amazing amount of good.

 "Loving others as God loves me." This has long been my mantra in life. Even as an introvert, I have discovered in my middle-aged adult years that I am incredibly needy when it comes to having others (especially men) in my life. As much as I love to isolate, isolation is dangerous to my soul. Very dangerous. As an adult male, I have been blessed to have found incredible friendships, camaraderie, and support in other men who have risen up and helped to heal the broken young boy who still lived inside of me. They have done this by meeting me where I was, loving me unconditionally, and walking with me down roads that were not always easy to travel on. Loving others does not mean that I must always get along with everyone or even agree with everyone's opinions. Quite the opposite. It means that I am willing to rise up and meet others where they are as I love them for who they are. It means that I hold on to my own convictions and beliefs while simultaneously stating to them "I hear you, I love you, and I am willing to listen to you even as I hold on to my own values." We don't have to agree with everyone about everything in life. That would be a fallacy. It is also impossible to do. True beauty in life can be found in peacefully co-existing with others and valuing them as fellow human beings even in times when you don't always agree. 

My challenge for you this week is to go "placidly" amidst the noise and haste that might perhaps invade your everyday life. Love others whom you encounter during those "noisy" times. And most of all, look for those beautiful moments of silence (though small they may be) and cherish them as you use them wisely; let those moments of silence, those moments where you find your peace in the solitude, be the fuel that gives you strength to go through the noise and haste in life.

 ~S

It's Endearing Providing Matrimonial Security (After All These 27 Years) Whilst Horizontal

I mentioned (within a previous post) our recent sleep divorce.  This was something facilitated by our middle daughter (also) leaving for college this fall.  In anticipation of this, over the course of this past summer, the "big girls" room was transformed - via new twin beds / mattresses - from child's room to extra bedroom.

Throughout, my wife was (somewhat privately) repositioning all of this on her own behalf.  Particularly when it came to the mattress purchases (they were quite luxuriously expensive).

My wife's "stroke arm" (her left arm) is often (most comfortable) extended perpendicular to her body whilst she snoozes.  Hence, our queen bed doesn't necessitate this well, particularly with her 200lb husband (me) adjacent.  

Hence, about a month ago (in tandem with daughter #2 leaving for college), the sleep divorce was finalized.  It took me absolutely no time to adjust accordingly, though there were a few nights of eeriness as I began to imagine that Angie had stroked out for a second time and had died. 

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Earlier this week, Angie announced that the sleep divorce was over.  She was ready to sleep re-marry.  

Why?

At first, she was sharing the room with our youngest daughter (8th grader) who was sleeping within the adjacent twin bed.  But that didn't last (her snoring quickly shut this Jill & Jill setup down).  

It was the aloneness that got to her.  Being there within that tiny bedroom by herself.

I'm wondering, though I haven't mentioned it, if it harkened back to her weeklong May 2020 hospital stay post-stroke.  Being ushered in and out of ICU a handful of times throughout that week, and being there alone (I was only allowed to visit for one hour midday, each day, due to pandemic restrictions), made a distinct impression.  

So now she's back in bed with her husband.  And, according to her, she's sleeping soundly.  

It feels nice to provide that security to her via exceedingly close proximity.

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My oldest friend's (college) somewhat recently widowed mom began sleeping with a call-in radio broadcast playing from the adjacent pillow.  She did this to honor her deceased husband's presence enough to replicate that deeply longed for feeling of husband security (her husband died in his early 90s).

Now she's found herself alone in the single-family home that they'd owned together for decades.  

Women crave security.  Men crave respect.    

Angie feels secure.  Rob feels respected.  Win-win.

Sympathizing With That Invisible Man (Let's Not Forget That Every Guy Isn't Necessarily Destined To Become A Samson Guy)

I have become a Samson guy through and through.  How do I know this?

I desire to spread the Samson Society "Good News" to most every new friend I make.

Even if they're not foreseeably "qualified" (in crisis) to be involved within this community.  

And that's a problem (relative to my friendship track record) because it proves I'm not being sensitive to my friend's needs / wiring.  Instead, I'm behaving more like that pyramid-scheme zealot friend who's looking to make a quick buck.

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"Hi, I'm Rob, and I'm a freak.  I actually lost my dream job as a campus architect (back in 2013) by breaking the institution's IT policy (looking at gay porn online / oversharing on my personal blog)."  

Yikes.  No thanks.  There must be a better way to respectably making an intro relative to my story.

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I'm working to streamline my testimony sans mentioning some of those details.  

Here it goes:

Invisibility has been a place (mindset) I learned to become comfortable within early on in life.  Being a covert mistake (illegitimate child) forced my teenage parents to survive (monetarily, relationally, emotionally) relative to the burden of responsibility / demands my very existence placed on our (almost overnight) 3-person family.

I had to have instinctively (subconsciously) known too that our survival stats would increase if I cooperated (obediently stayed out of the way).  Hence, as an outgrowth of that, I learned early on to inject humor into every feasible though often tense situation.  As such, I naturally became that kid who submerged himself into all manner of fantasy in order to garner that much more creative inspiration therein whilst also seeking escape from a "long shot survival" familial setup.  

All the while, my true feelings were locked away as I manifested my dramatic antics for most any audience available to me.  And this was fun to do due to the fact that I garnered laughs / support therein (I was very humorous).

And then I hit puberty.

From there, my secret weapon (zany antics) became moot as teenage self-consciousness kicked in with a vengeance.  

And this is when the glaring reality of my (up to that point) lifelong invisibility truly reared its head.  As such, idol worship (in the form of lust) which targeted the seemingly "less invisible" (peers, teachers, pastors, and so forth), took root within my psyche at full throttle.  

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At this point in my life (early middle school), I had drawn the conclusion that the gospel of Jesus Christ was anchored in the notion of the invisibles being seen.  Accounted for.  Pursued even.  

Moreso than salvation (though it was a very close second), I wanted that kind of clarity with God.  And in line with that, I desperately desired to be lead.  Especially so from the standpoint of someone who I was visible to (inside and out).  

But ultimately, it was me being cognizant of how survival instinct dependent I'd become relative to my idol worship that set me up beautifully to be lassoed in by the gospel.  

And that's exactly what happened to me during the summer prior to my 7th grade year.  Specifically at church camp.  In Mount Lebanon, TX.  Surrounded by close to one hundred other middle / high schoolers from First Baptist Church Jackson who were integrated amongst the throngs of other youth (groups) from all over Texas / the Deep South.

I vividly remember calling Darlene (my mom) from a pay phone, late into the night, post public profession of faith (walking the aisle) there at the camp.  She replied with, "I thought you'd already done that!?!"

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Had I not been able to faithfully bank on Jesus' "intimate knowing of Rob" (visibility) throughout middle / high school, all of the loneliness - brought on as a result of both the inarguable invisibleness itself combined with it as a demoralizing identifier - would have been too hard to bear.  

Yet, throughout, I was convinced his hand was consistently working on my behalf.  Hence, it provided hope / optimism towards the future whilst helping me manage this tough season.

As a student, I was fair to middling, but what gave me an edge was my confidence as a vocalist / singing from the platform.  Due to the fact that a sizable part of our (high school) youth ministry experience was tied to (Christian) choral music, I quickly found my place.  Whilst looking back, I believe this was one sizable example of God's providence.

At age 15, I was adamant about owning my own car.  My father insisted I get a job to partially fund said car / car insurance.  The effort in finding a job was laughably minimal, and the rewards therein were off the charts.  And though I worked an awful lot, it kept me busy / focused / taught me how to manage time well.  Plus, whilst working alongside a diverse set of other teens, I quickly learned an awful lot from their choices (both good and not so good).  This was not unlike, what I imagine, having a horde of siblings.  

During my senior year of high school, I applied and gained entrance into architecture school.  From there, music continued to provide a cushion as I also joined the MSU Maroon Band as a freshman.  And though church wasn't a priority whilst living fall / spring in Starkville, MS, I met students who were deeply devout who thankfully too became reliable friends.

Now, my penchant / comfort-level for / with invisibleness ushered me into the most important relational decision of my life.  Marriage.  For my one and only girlfriend, Angie, too dealt with this same phenomenon, but in lieu of skillfully masking it behind self-deprecating humor / sarcasm, she simply allowed her inner situation to reflect outwardly.  And oh, my goodness, was she ever that much more beautifully delicate because of it.  

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It didn't take me long to fall in love with her.  From there, I felt compelled to talk to my parents about my idol worship and how it was weighing me down morally / spiritually.  For I'd never addressed that with anyone.  I was so grateful that they pointed me towards therapy that was specific to my issue, and from there, I divulged to Angie.

Now, let me stop here and expound on who I was attempting to be at this time.

As an early 20s young man, I knew I'd matured into an adult and was ready for a steady job / marriage, but I also knew that I was continuing to attempt to manage the fallout from my invisible childhood / teen years in ways that were wreaking havoc on my soul (shame).  Because this was a battle that I fought privately, I optimistically sought out opportunities (post marriage) to find support (mentorship / parachurch men's groups, Christian men's retreats, etc.) amongst Christian brothers.  

Whilst doing so, what I found instead was only more situations which promoted me feeling invisible.  

So, what did I do to cope?

I turned to humor / entertaining once more as I worked reflexively to deflect my true feelings in order to survive (plus, there were bills to pay, a marriage to support, career demands).

Unfortunately though, as a result, I eventually lost the ability to see any of my self.  Instead, if I chose to look inwards, I only could see a void.  Hence, in many ways, I became detached from my moorings due to the fact that I had no idea where I truly existed within the rank & file of men.

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When the Internet came on the scene, Angie and I had only been married for a few years.  We were actively involved in church / a young married Sunday School class, and Angie was just beginning to emerge from a 2-year struggle with general anxiety disorder (thanks be to God for her wonderful therapist).  

For me, the Internet immediately represented an opportunity to take my idol worship to new heights.  As such, I knew not where else to turn but my sweet wife for help.

And she did until eventually, the availability of the Internet became ubiquitous.  Being too hard to hide from, I succumbed habitually.

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At this point, I found myself in a technology-focused culture that I loathed due to how powerless / even more invisible it made me feel.  I instinctively shunned involvement within mainstream tech trends (social media), but Internet porn had a vise grip on me that I simply could not loosen alone.

But then there was a significant turning point in the form of a friend.

My first truly authentic (vulnerable) Christian friend proved to me that relational accountability was far more potent than the allure of my "digital fix".  This younger man came into my life in 2010.  I was in my late 30s at the time, and he was four years younger.  We both had small children, both loved Jesus, but were both in the aforementioned digital vice grip.

Up until early 2012, he and I were as close as brothers.  As such, we met weekly, savoring every moment of our time together.

Later on that same year, I was presented with the opportunity to uproot my family and move to small town Mississippi in order to take an administrative position at a university.  Naively, I believed I'd find friendship there as I'd just experienced back home.

When that didn't occur, the vise grip returned with a vengeance.  In response, I cried out for help online (oversharing on my personal blog).  Help didn't come.  Instead, judgement and demonization were doled out unremittently via my now employer.  There was nothing left of me after this occurred.  At this point within my life, my feelings of invisibleness reached paralyzing new heights.

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As a result of this rejection / termination, I developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  This lasted +/-18 months with me having to endure flashbacks of my firing at least once daily.  Our young family returned to the Jackson Metro immediately following my job loss, and from there, I began working for my parents (October of 2013).  

I cannot begin to describe how blatantly unseen I felt at this point in time.  As such, I fell into a deep depression which fostered suicidal thoughts.  The emotional pain I was experiencing was suffocating me.  As such, I simply wanted it to stop by any means possible.  

After complaining about this to my sweet wife, she encouraged me to dialogue similarly with my dad.  From there, he triangulated me into a relationship with a local renowned counselor, Mr. Don Waller.  

This was August of 2014.

Unbeknownst to me, Don had been facilitating the first Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society group for close to one year.  After meeting with him one-on-one, he encouraged me to attend the very next week.

That first Samson Society meeting was the hardest to walk into.  There were 8-9 local men in attendance, each with various backgrounds / from different stages of life.  Afterwards, and I'll likely never forget this, we attended a Mississippi Braves baseball game together.  It was the most fun I'd had in close to one year.

What I discovered through the Samson Society was communal visibility unlike anything I'd experienced prior.  Hence, I stuck with attending this weekly meeting combined with going to each and every after-meeting.  From there, I attended my first localized Samson intensive during the summer of 2015.  Additional intensives followed in 2016 and 2017.  Not long after that, I even organized my own intensive for a handful of Samson guys to experience (February of 2018).

The National Samson Society retreat too became part of my pursuit to be seen.  I began attending those annual events in 2018.  

Throughout all of this, I watched as the local Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society expanded as Samson guys felt compelled to start their own groups throughout the Metro.  

Surprisingly (to myself), I segued to virtual Samson meetings in late 2021, having met some of the virtual meeting facilitators via my attending of the National Retreats.  

In closing, for Rob, ultimately, it's about being seen.  Starting and maintaining this blog corresponds with that pursuit.  As such, writing has been a huge part of my recovery.

To God be the glory, great things he hath done via Samson Society!  I am truly zealous regarding this fantastic lifeline.

Go Ahead & Leverage Your Love By Being A "Hard Ass" (Both Inside & Outside Of Samson Society)

I distinctly remember (first time) when I was officially chosen / selected to be another Samson guy's Silas.  Despite there being no official ask, the routine telephone calls starting coming in.  Eventually, I inquired (late 2014) as to why this younger man had chosen me, and his reply essentially was, "you were the only one who seemed to care (take an interest) about me and my story".  (Actually, I was simply being polite.)  As such, he mistook that, but I felt in no way less privileged to have been (unassumingly) chosen to walk with this man.  

Because I had no Silas of my own, it didn't take long for me to feel expectedly burdened (asymmetrical) by both him and other Samson men who similarly tethered themselves to Rob.  

Whilst looking back, I realize now that the primary draw to choosing me in this regard had to do with my superpower.  

Remembering - over time - what these men were telling me.  To the point that I could regurgitate it down the road.  This sat well with these new friends for it proved my interest in them and their stories.  

I refer to this superpower as crystallization.  I'm pretty sure it's linked to my sexuality.

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It didn't take me long to recognize that I could glean some of my own needs from these "Silees" via the questions I chose to ask of them during our regular "check-ins", but for the most part, it was they who were receiving (support) from me.

Over time, I became fatigued.  (Again, you'll recall that I had no Silas of my own.)  

Nonetheless, I found peace in knowing that I'd deposited an awful lot of time and listening effort into these men.  Both from the standpoint of serendipity and Christ-likeness.  Not to mention simply being "Silas-like" (listener).  

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Once Rob gained a Silas, everything changed (hooray for symmetry!).  Particularly relative to me having developed long-term friendships with these "Silees".  

Let me explain.

After six months of formal "check-ins" from a "Silee", I found that I had gained a pretty thorough understanding of how my new friends were wired.  Good, bad, and indifferent.  Too, as I connected with more and more men, I began to see obvious patterns within the recovery narrative that no doubt cross pollinated.  And this is where I began to use my influence towards seeing those tried-and-true patterns implemented where they were not (yet).  

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My middle daughter officially moved into her freshman dorm this past weekend.  Unlike her older sister (two years her senior, who's enrolled at the same institution), she didn't have an established friendship with her roommate (high school, church friend or the like).

My wife and I did the obligatory hauling of our middle daughter's dorm essentials, showing up for freshman "move-in day" at our set time.  Upon entering her room, her (very new friend) roommate's side was completely, 100% setup.  Every (coordinated) trinket in place, photo hung, etc.  This came as a shock!  For we'd no idea how they'd pulled this off in such short time.

Being as completely unexpected as it was, we couldn't help but contrast it to what we experienced with our oldest daughter's freshman roommate / roommate's family two years prior.  In that instance, everything was "assembled & set up" collaboratively as the two roommates worked together from start to finish - over a period of 4 - 6 hours - in a sort of christening of THEIR dorm room.

Now, keep in mind that my middle daughter had dialogued (& even briefly rendezvoused with) her "new friend" freshman roommate throughout this past summer.  They communicated regularly regarding room decor and so forth.  Hence, there was an expectation there relative to a collaborative effort.

But this was not to be.  And yes, it resulted in an awkwardness going forward.  An awkwardness that felt divisive.

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I pressed two Samson brothers hard recently and have no regrets doing so regarding them getting out of their relational (related to other Samson brothers & family members) comfort zones.  It's important to know that both men, I've walked with each for well over six months.  

Why do this?

1.  Because I'm convicted that they need to move in their specific new direction on behalf of their recovery.

2.  I've deposited a tremendous amount of listening / analytical time into both men.

3.  I've the expertise as a tenured Samson man to feel confident in my attempts to optimize the work they're doing.

I may never hear from either again as a result.  Nonetheless, I have no regrets.  Our friendships' growth is absolutely hinged on their individual growth as it relates to where we've walked - together - (as well as what we've learned) up to that point in time.  In other words, if they're not growing, we're not growing.  If this stagnation truly is the case, it's probably a good time for them to find a new Silas.

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My middle daughter sent me a series of photos last night of her now exquisitely setup side of her & her roommate's dorm room.  

After having effectively moved all of my middle daughter's essentials into the space prior to assisting her with making up her bed, we left the remaining for her to assemble / unpack / organize on her own & at her own pace.  As you can imagine, she was initially not at all pleased with this arrangement, as feelings of abandonment welled up into her teary eyes (in contrast to her roommate's miraculously complete setup).  

But it was for her best as well as for our best that we take that approach.  And it worked out beautifully in the end.  

My wife and I have invested and invested and invested some more into our middle daughter (just as we have her older and younger sister).  Even at that seemingly critical juncture (freshman dorm move-in day), it was important that we hold the line, giving her an opportunity to move forward at the pace of her choosing, knowing full well that this presented an opportunity for growth (all around).

Remembering all the while that the relational narratives we'd made - up to that point - will forever be crystallized, set to remain so forever as her relationship with us matures forward.

Unpretentious Exposure Then Rebuke

 

During the summer of 2015, I was delighted to have the opportunity to participate in my first Samson Society intensive weekend.  Back then, there was only one local (face-to-face) group here in the Jackson Metro, and we met at First Baptist Church Jackson (where they still meet today).  

The intensive weekend trip was to south Mississippi where we rented a cabin adjacent to the Okatoma River (for one night).  After traveling down Saturday morning, we kayaked / canoed the river (during a harrowing thunderstorm) before using the late afternoon / evening for "share time" around a lovely campfire.  There were only +/-10 Samson guys, therefore only a few shares bled over into Sunday morning before our departure.  

I chose to kayak the river (single-man kayak) shirtless.  I did this because I knew it would be personally contradictory relative to the engrained shame I was experiencing relative to my body.  Essentially, I knew that de-shirting there at the "put-in" would be tough, but over the course of the +/-3-hour river trek, I'd become more comfortable.  And that was definitely the case, for there were hundreds and hundreds of rednecks on the river that particular Saturday, and many of the guys were shirtless.

Too, another Samson guy (who I was serving as a Silas for) also (eventually) de-shirted.  And this was to my delight due to how affirming it felt to me.  Furthermore, I felt validated via his willingness to do this, and this made me truly grateful.

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My first significant "physical exposure" experience(s) were actually pre-Samson Society involvement.  Back in 2011 / 2012, I acquired my first Silas (though neither he nor I were privy to that term).  This man was four years my junior, and as such, we met weekly (Tuesday nights) to run, talk and pray (concretizing the absolute provocativeness / solidarity baked into relational accountability).

The running we'd accomplish shirtless (unless it was unusually chilly).  And what was interesting about this was how it impacted my Silas as much as it did me.  To be more specific, he found himself motivated to "get in shape" (strength training) as a result of his weekly exposure.  Hence, about four months into our routine, he'd muscled up significantly.

These weekly (mostly after dark) shirtless runs went on for well over a year.  As a result, I came away deeply grateful for how they validated / encouraged me as a late-30s man who'd never had such an experience.

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Post the aforementioned 2015 Samson Society intensive weekend (the following week), I decided to email my "Silee" in order to thank him / provide commentary as to why him too removing his shirt during the Okatoma River trip was so very affirming to Rob.  It's important to know that this younger man was in a canoe (with the facilitator of our Samson group), and that he stayed far behind my more easily navigable kayak throughout the trek.

In response to my email, I received a phone call where he rebuked me for "assuming he was sexually attracted to me".  I vividly recall panicking as he bared down via his rhetoric.  For I kept seeing all of this getting back to the Samson group facilitator who might very well ask me to leave the group.  Whilst attempting to hold back tears, I pleaded with him not to share my email with said facilitator or anyone else (even though it didn't even hint of impropriety).  For I was too broken / weak to stand up for myself / my true intentions at this time.

It's important to note that I'd only been a part of the Jackson Metro Samson community, when this occurred, for 10-11 months, and that - again - there was only one local face-to-face group.  

Too, you should know that my "Silee" was decidedly straight (he'd been a pastor who'd successfully seduced then bedded numerous parishioners before being removed from his position), and though he was a strikingly handsome guy, he was definitely not in line with my masculine archetype.

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Fast forward to 2018.  By now, I was facilitating my own Samson Society group at Lakeside Pres (my home church), and young "Henry", to my delight, I had the privilege of becoming a Silas to.  

It didn't take me long to discern that Henry was uber conscientious about his body.  He was quite lean at the time that I came to know him but had been overweight too just a year or so prior.  Due to the fact that he and his family lived less than a mile from us, we decided to take up running together not long after he nonchalantly disclosed that he'd run a marathon as a high school student.  

Though we only did this a handful of times (his work schedule eventually changed + they welcomed baby two), each run was rewarding in and of itself.

But unbeknownst to me, I inadvertently touched a nerve within my young friend during one of these outings.  And that had to do with wanting him too to run shirtless (which had been my default during previous runs).  (His rebuke, ironically enough, came within the form of an email.)

Why was it so important to me that he choose to do the same (run shirtless)?

I certainly wasn't sexually attracted to Henry's image-bearing bod.  No, that wasn't it.  Essentially, I wanted to (re)experience what I'd so enjoyed from all those years prior with my first Silas.  

That sense of affirming that I've only experienced via shirtless endeavors with friends.  It bonded us.  Unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

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One last story.

During the second Samson intensive weekend I experienced (2016), our itinerary included rafting down the Chattahoochee River during most of that Saturday.  Since it was April, all of us rafters (which consisted of the majority of the Samson guys who'd chosen to attend the weekend) wore wetsuits.  Upon our return to the outpost, every man made a beeline to the showers.  Unfortunately, the facilities were woefully inadequate in terms of number of showers / room to change, ventilation, etc.  Nonetheless, we'd all had such fun throughout our river run that this inconvenience was easily overlooked. 

As I made my way into the men's changing room / showers / restroom, it didn't take long for another Samson man to put everyone on notice (altruistically) as to my presence therein.  I distinctly remember brushing this off due to how energized I felt relative to the day.  Nonetheless, I came away feeling unfairly singled out.

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There's truly no way to know how other Samson guys will react regarding your story.  I believe that's why I consider it such a privilege to receive stories from guys whilst doing my darndest to not (over)react.  For if a man's courage to reveal his story results in ostracization / scorn / mistrust - of any ilk - there's a good chance he's going to reconsider being as open / authentic down the road. 

Profound Sensitivity Whilst At "The Beach". (Childhood Past Overlapping With Present Experience.) Unintentionally Exhuming Teenage Trauma.

I requested of my parents that we take a beach vacation when I was a sophomore in high school.  At the time, I was around the age of 16 (I'm an only child).  My parents, concurrently, were in their mid-30s.  The year would have been 1988.  It's important to know that we'd never "beached trip" prior, though we had visited the Mississippi Gulf Coast (which has a less than picturesque beach).

I believe I made this specific "beach trip" request due to what I'd heard from a close friend relative to her family's beach vacations.  My friend's dad was an attorney, and each summer they integrated their beach trip in with the Mississippi BAR convention in Miramar Beach, FL.  My friend was a drinker and as such, very socially adept.  Too, her stunningly beautiful cousin from CA would fly in to join her relative to this annual summer beach vaca.  

It all sounded so COOL (despite the fact that I was anything but cool).  Why not give it a go with my family?

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My older two daughters and I just returned from Miramar Beach, FL this past weekend.  I was there for work (convention), and my daughters tagged along.  This specific convention, I've attended each summer for close to a decade.  It's an exhausting affair, though overall - typically - very productive / enjoyable.  

Miramar Beach is home to a 2,400-acre resort that was spearheaded in the 1980s.  It's at this resort where this annual convention has been held since 2015.

Too, it was at this same resort, back in 1988, that my parents and I vacationed when I was 16.  As such, it was my first time there.

As you might imagine, what I experienced at 16 at Sandestin was far different OVERALL than what's there today.

Except...

The same hotel building my parents and I stayed in back in 1988 is still there (though it's been rebranded as "condos").  

In fact, surprisingly, my girls and I stayed in that exact building last week while we were there.  As a result, I had no idea how profoundly influential our accommodations would turn out to be.

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Immediately upon inhabiting our assigned condo (hotel room), I felt a profound sense of sadness / insecurity that I couldn't shake for the entire four days we were there.  It was like a dark cloud that hung over me each and every day.  It's important to note that adjacent to this repurposed condo building is the original conference center for the resort.  Because our assigned condo (room) was at the end of the building, my girls and I would typically navigate through said pre-function conference space (entering & exiting the building repeatedly throughout the day).  

As a sixteen-year-old, I was notorious for exploring unfamiliar buildings.  Hence, I'm certain I did a fair share of exploring of this mid-'80s conference center.

To be more specific, because I was sharing a hotel room with my parents, I feel certain I was on the hunt for "off the beaten (sorry) path" public restrooms to masturbate within (sitting on the loo within an enclosed stall).  This pre-function conference space had restrooms that would have fit the bill exactly.  For whatever reason, as a teenage boy, doing this was just rebellious enough to satiate that adolescent season.

In fact, I used these restrooms last week (only for what they were designed for, thank you very much) often while we were there (as we entered / exited the building).

I know all this sounds ridiculously over the top bizarre, but...

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Immediately upon my girls and I returning home on Sunday, (7/23) afternoon, I facilitated the "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting (I just barely made it), and it was literally during our breakout session that everything began to crystallize within my mind (Summer 1988 past overlapping with Summer 2023 present experience).

I cannot underestimate how much I loathed myself as a sixteen-year-old boy.  Whether it was related to my body image, my sexuality (struggles with unwanted / intrusive homosexual desires), or my penchant for escaping via masturbation (often inside bathroom stalls), all of this compounded my disgust.  It was a private disgust that I wrestled with constantly.  

That sixteen-year-old Rob is alive and well inside my head.  Unbeknownst to me, I essentially re-traumatized him last week relative to our 2023 accommodations (being identical to his in 1988).  

How is this possible?

I have no idea.  I'm no brain expert.  But I can tell you this:  my sixteen-year-old self is in there.  And he remembers / is just as sensitive as ever.  Especially when the experience(s) were tough for him.  Plus, he was a budding architect at the time (I embarked into architecture school at 19).  Hence, buildings, in particular, made distinct impressions on his / my budding psyche.  

Having gone through this, I feel yet again humbled.  It truly is unbelievable how profoundly influential childhood experiences are relative to our present-day adult circumstances.  

Two Pastors & A Parachurch Minister & Their Moral Failings / That Which I Can't Comprehend / Architects Aren't Typically Arsonists

This past Sunday, we had some visitors (new friends) to Lakeside Pres over for lunch.  We had a delightful time, with the primary purpose being introducing their oldest daughter to our youngest (in hopes of brandishing a relational entry point towards Lakeside's youth group).

As we were dialoguing about Lakeside Pres' youth ministry (as our family has come to experience it), the wife of the visiting couple chose to bring up a "creepy" youth pastor she was under the tutelage of when she was a teen.  She went on to say that her commentary regarding this man she'd never divulged even to her husband.  As such, she was visibly tense as a result.

Angie and I then cited our very first youth pastor (back in the '80s) at First Baptist Church Jackson, and his swift termination due to similar behavior(s).  I mentioned too (in general terms) the numerous instances I'd had described to me relative to outright pastoral abuse towards teens.

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When Angie and I were faced with our beloved youth pastor being fired abruptly at First Baptist Church Jackson, we were just old enough (14/15) to understand that something terrible must have gone down to warrant this.  Everyone loved Rick.  He was incredibly approachable, a capable Bible teacher, etc.   

The powers-that-be, in response, then hired a female youth pastor to replace him.  I can't help but believe that her having a vagina and breasts gave those decision-makers some peace of mind going forward.  

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Immediately following my graduation from college in 1995 (Mississippi State University's School of Architecture), I was invited to join a Young Business Leaders' (Jackson) Bible study.  I did so, but the small group I ended up in didn't have legs.  From there, I drifted away from this local parachurch ministry until the Executive Director wooed me to return (4-5 years later).  

I was delighted to then sit weekly with this Executive Director within a new Bible study group made up of 5-6 local Christian men (all of which were new faces to me).  I was a good bit older (& wiser), therefore my appreciation for said group had shifted immensely.  

This ED was incredibly approachable, a very capable Bible teacher, etc. (he reminded me of Rick, the disgraced youth pastor, in many ways).

Sadly, it was the August 2015 Ashley Madison hack / exposure that eventually preempted this parachurch minister's termination from Young Business Leaders.  

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During the fall of 2010, the then youth pastor at Lakeside Pres (he was terminated in January 2012 / last day August of that same year) came to me for support relative to his online "porn addiction".  

Though I'd never heard the phrase "porn addiction", it scared the hell out of me.  Especially in light of it coming from the lips of our youth pastor (who came across as a genuinely nice guy).  

Keep in mind that our oldest daughter, at this time, was seven, therefore our children weren't YET under this youth pastor's guise.

A few months after his request / confession to Rob, this younger man was placed on probation by Lakeside Pres' elders (they weren't privy to his "porn addiction"), giving him six months to "right the youth ministry ship" (he never did).

From there, he took another youth pastorate position (within another state) which only lasted a few weeks before his termination there.

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All three of these pastors / ministers were sidelined (at least partially) by sexual sin.  

I was thinking, thinking, thinking last night about these men (particularly the last two because they're more recent).  It's important to note that the only one I'm still in touch with is the latter.  He and I chat every week.  

Those this may sound like a weird statement, I'm going to declare it.  I believe these men were somehow feeding off of their rebellious / morally corrupt behavior for a distinct emotional purpose.  It's just that I've no real understanding of what was being fed or how.  For them to be M Divs (Master of Divinity) throughout (or at least working towards) is what's so bizarre / counterintuitive from the standpoint of attempting to understand why they were so needy to begin with.

My still friend (who I chat with weekly), I believe, attempts to drown out what's left of his (years later) regret relative to what he risked losing (which he eventually did) in order to obtain that which I couldn't back then nor still can't comprehend.  

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In closing, I'm convinced that certain men (no matter their chosen vocation) have powerful drivers that put them in harm's way in order to feel - a certain way.  

My friend used to talk about feeling "anything" as his ultimate goal (which I used to chalk up to a cop out).  

Was that the end goal?  Intensely feeling a certain way?  If so, how did the emotional life of these men become so lobotomized to begin with?  Especially in light of them pursuing the pastorate.   

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One final thought (& this may sound ridiculous):

None of these three men were Associate / Senior Pastors at a church I was a member of.  Typically, the Youth Pastor position is a steppingstone to these.  As such, these men's true colors were exposed therein (before gaining access to more responsibility / influence via a higher position).  

Parachurch ministries, in my opinion, don't equate to church.  Hence, though those men may believe themselves to be pastors, they are not.    

I'm so fortunate to have befriended / been ministered to by numerous pastors / assistant pastors throughout my life.  These were men (& women) who simply didn't have this default impropriety that reeked such havoc within the lives of their peers. 

Nonetheless, each of these remain within the same plane hierarchically.  All had value for such a time as that.

(No Longer In) Bondage To The Thrust

I never would have known my local Samson friend was so spellbound by hot women 'till we had (a repeat) restaurant lunch.  As such, a troupe of high school girls traipsed in, and eventually sat adjacent to us.  These were pristine, rich, white girls wearing the latest designer clothes / hairstyles.  There was 6-8 of them, and they were all bubbly and giggly as they carried their sizable pocket computers like individual bars of gold.  These girls were undoubtedly students at the across-the-highway private academy, and they were there at this restaurant on "lunch break" (having driven their parents' BMWs and Mercedes-Benz across the way).  Likely many of them came from heady stock - CPAs, surgeons & prominent business owners, having been expectedly pampered throughout their short lives.

At the time, this friend was my Silas 3.0, and the tension he was experiencing due to the "availableness" of this troupe was impossible to miss.  I remember feeling powerless and a bit annoyed but altogether grateful as well that I wasn't in his intensive heterosexual shoes.  

All in all, I vividly recall him being visibly distraught as he forced himself to not glance their way.  It seemingly took all his strength in order to NOT capture / captivate / become spellbound by their sexual prowess.  As an aside, him wearing his work uniform likely only added to the intensity of this moment, serving as a reminder of his past, pre-conversion (Christianity) hedonism with many a similar lay.  

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Saturday, (7/1) my wife and I executed our typical weekend workout at the local Y.  Never before had I seen one particular mid to late 20s man in there prior.  His upper body was lean and svelte, but his legs - damn his legs - were stunningly beautiful.  

Stunningly beautiful legs = muscular, hairy, beautifully proportioned.  Bulky thighs / calves, seamless knees / ankles.  Tan flesh.  Either dark or blonde (leg) hair.  And they must be long, thick hairs that drape over the muscled flesh like a silk carpet.

This young man was no doubt athletic.  Perhaps he was a runner or a rock climber or both.  He could have been a varsity / collegiate (baseball) catcher.  Anything requiring that constant crouching down that builds lower body strength and the subsequent mass.  For that's where his strength lay.  Lower body.

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Well over a decade ago, I showed up to sing (routine Wednesday night rehearsal) in our church choir at Lakeside Pres, and the melodic tenor (who was a new guy to me and the church in general) sitting adjacent was wearing shorts (as I was).  He was around my age (late 30s at the time), and due to the stunning beauty of his long legs, I literally came close to creaming my shorts as we sang to the Lord - our austere Presbyterian tunes - over the course of that hour.

Let me repeat:  these were some stunningly beautiful legs, and they were close enough for me to (accidently?) rub up against.    

The owner of said legs was married (his wife too sang in the choir), and as a couple, were also new to the area.  Not long after this up close legebration, they decided to move away to greener pastures which resulted in him taking his stunningly beautiful legs (as well as his incredible voice) to the Pacific Northwest.  Not long after that, I stopped singing in the choir, covertly mourning my loss.

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The summer after I graduated high school (1990), I had to take College Algebra before entering into the freshman architecture school curriculum at Mississippi State University.  I took this course, along with English Composition I, at Holmes Community College's then newly opened Ridgeland campus.  

Upon entering the latter's classroom, I found myself sitting across from a handful of high school (Madison-Ridgeland Academy) peers (two girls and one guy), one of which was a varsity athlete (football, baseball, track) who I'd never once spoken to.  It's important to know that at our high school, the boys weren't allowed to wear shorts.  Hence, blue jeans were the norm.

To my delight, there was no such dress code here at community college.

"Trevor" was wearing athletic shorts during that first day of English Comp I and every day afterwards.  Our class met thrice weekly for +/-90 minutes, therefore I had a front and center view of his stunningly beautiful legs each and every day we met.  This entire experience served to both captivate and suffocate me simultaneously.  For it both enlightened and horrified Rob as to what he was primarily attracted to in certain other men.

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Masculine sexual activity is all about thrusting (movement of the erect penis in and out of the wet vagina).  There's no way around this.  That thrusting is done via the lower body.  The entire porn industry is built upon this animalistic movement.  This beautiful movement that powerfully personifies the act of intercourse.  

Interestingly enough, my Silas 2.0 masturbated by humping the couch / bed prior to ejaculating within his briefs.  I'd never met another guy who did this.  He refused to masturbate any other way, having "taught himself" this technique as a boy.  That dry humping, of course, is a thrusting movement that's lower body executed.  According to him, he only needed 60-90 seconds to climax therein via this technique (efficiency was first priority for this Samson guy - in everything).    

To summarize, this lower body thrusting is decidedly heterosexual intercourse anatomical vocabulary.  As such, the lower body of a man may very well equate to this visually.  And that is definitely the case for me.

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To circle back to the young man my wife and I encountered this past weekend at the Y, he not only had those aforementioned stunningly beautiful legs, but he also was very polite.  He and I spoke a couple of times, throughout our time there, as we crossed paths during our respective - 90-minute - strength training workouts.  

But what didn't occur - in the very least - was me becoming "in bondage to the thrust" as a result.  Instead, I simply acknowledged what I witnessed, and went on my way.

How did I accomplish this at this stage in my recovery?

I honestly don't know.  

Yesterday, during our "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting, the word was FREEDOM, and this narrative of mine (what I've encapsulated here) was front and center.  But, even having a full 24-hours to ruminate on this further, I still can't pinpoint what's specifically occurred to free me from these shackles.

Maybe it's simply that I've met my quota for stunningly beautiful legs.  I can tell you that I've been so very blessed to know enough men with tree trunks - as I've described here - that perhaps I've simply leveled up as a result.  It's as if that guy, "Trevor", from high school (who sat across from me for two summer months at HCC within English Comp I) has been sexual with me via the countless tree trunk brothers in Christ I've intimately (keyword) befriended since 1990.  

For I wanted nothing more than to be pursued by this guy.  That's what my sexual fantasies - involving him - revolved around.  Him befriending me prior to us having a homosexual relationship.  All throughout that summer - post high school.  

Let me be more specific.

All three of my Silases have been men who I've experienced intimacy with - on a level (I would argue) - that equates to a sexual relationship.  

To take that statement a step further...

Even without the exchange of bodily fluids, the mystique of their individual manhood(s) I've had the opportunity to observe / experience - up close and personal.  Besides these formal Silases, there've been countless other men (mostly within the framework of Samson Society) who've provided me with similar experiences.

Each of these experiences has uncovered more and more of what I longed to know and understand about men (including my own individual, reflected manhood) back in 1990.  

It's just taken a really long time to get to this point of me now knowing enough to properly level up.  

Relationships take time and SO MUCH WORK.  They're the exact opposite of sexual fantasy which are cheap and thereby overall worthless.  

I have been so blessed by Samson Society.  I realize it when I have experiences like I did this past weekend at the Y.

Lagniappe

Help Me Lord To Not Discriminate (See Them As Less Than) Against Divorcees

I've always subconsciously deemed divorcees as second-class citizens.  My first memory of making this adjudication occurred not long after I married (27 years ago).  Our church (First Baptist Church Jackson) hosted a Saturday morning "men's conference" at the newly constructed Hinds Community College Eagle Ridge conference center in Raymond.  I was in my mid-20s at the time.

One of the keynote speakers was Mr. Stephen Kirkpatrick, a local professional wildlife photographer.  During Mr. Kirkpatrick's short talk, he acknowledged his grieving over his (recent) divorce.  I vividly remember feeling nauseous as he admitted to this for I was (very) newly married.  

From there, he displayed his slide deck of beautiful wildlife photographs, providing commentary alongside.  I ended up leaving during the break, feeling alienated and duped, unable to see past his marital failure.

Fast forward to today.  If Mr. Nate Larkin were a divorcee, would I be as committed therein to this ministry as I currently am?  Not a chance.

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I've been told that I feel at 150%, and I believe it, though I've learned to manage this far better now than when I was younger.  

This sensitivity serves as the relational glue relative to my (over?)commitment to friendships, but at the same time, it can be the bane of my private existence.  

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Regarding Mr. Kirkpatrick, one of the first questions that came to mind is, what series of events justified the divorce?  Especially considering his obvious success, good looks, intelligence, articulation, leadership skills, and so forth.  Yet, there's no way to answer that inquiry.  It's a moot point.  Instead, I was simply forced to hold the emotional fallout (as a spectator) and do with it what I so chose.

Divorce to me equates to the ultimate unnecessary hopelessness.  Because it's a permanent failure that involves a woman (& often children), it's emotionally overwhelming to process.  

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What I don't take into account is that individuals make mistakes.  Some marry extremely difficult to love spouses.  

I also don't consider the fact that humans aren't perfect.  Especially when it comes to managing relationships.

Lastly, addiction, abuse and adultery are immediate dealbreakers relative to marriage vows.

I hate divorce.  Even though I know it's necessary in many instances.

Help me Lord to not see divorcees as less than.  It's simply not fair to them.  But also, help me to not lose my disdain for this travesty.

My Very Personal, Explicit Spring 2023 Creative Writing Sabbatical - Rob's Dysregulation Remedy

A Samson brother introduced me to (in early 2022) the concept of brain dysregulation whilst regularly attending (well over one year) a very well-attended virtual Samson meeting with him alongside.  This brain dysregulation idea centers around the brain becoming asymmetrical (imbalanced).  As such, the side that's out of sync needs some serious attention.  Having little use for this idea then, I paid it little attention, until...

For Rob, my eventual dysregulation occurred on the right side of my grey matter earlier this year.  Hence, I felt a deep-seated need to dream / fantasize / escape reality.  My easy access go-to therein to satiate these needs for such a lopsided brain would normally have been porn / salacious imagery.

Around mid-March, another Samson brother asked to share a dictated (voice memo app) "fantasy story" he'd written which centered around he and his spouse (who at the time was emotionally distant due to his recent difficult confessions) and her responsiveness to his sexual needs.  

This explicit creative writing exercise fleshed out his then desires for her and his marriage in spite of its / their current desecrated state.  As a result of reading this, I became incredibly inspired, and not only via the captivating story itself but the ongoing healing result (right brain flexure).

Hence, I began my own creative writing spree (in lieu of writing posts here).  This explains my absence.

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Three stories were generated as a result.  The first's plot focused on a private, paranormal relationship between my uncle and I when I was between the ages of 12-15; it centered heavily on this 20+ year older man and his positive masculine influence as a result of said relationship.  And though the story involved sexual overtones, it was by no means written to titillate.  Instead, from the perspective of a young teen boy (based on my recollected childhood), it put words / thoughts on the page addressing then private shame related to very typical adolescent / pubescent angst.  This tale was written in five distinct chapters. 

The second story was simple and fast.  It fleshed out a fictional friendship between myself and a young man who I've only known at a distance over the past few years.  

The third story ended up being my opus.  This one had thirteen distinct chapters with a heady epilogue.  I'm still coming off of the high that resulted from this distinct, very personal tale being generated.

In essence, it involved me being befriended by a Christian college student (graduate school) during my senior year in high school.  This older man I barely knew from my teenage years (working at Chick-A-Fil).  No doubt, I had deep admiration for / attraction towards him from a distance.  In order to properly flesh out his character, I grafted a recent Samson friend's persona over this guy, and as a result, the character and subsequently narrative gained tremendous legs.  

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I share this with you to hopefully inspire.  There's so much you can do creatively - that doesn't involve lustful thoughts / porn use - to rectify your dysregulation.  For me, creative writing was the tremendous fix I was looking for.  Try it today!

The Volunteer Group Catch-22

Catch 22:  A dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions.

I've been involved in volunteer organizations throughout my life.  Starting with First Baptist Church Jackson, back in the '80s, I was a consistent youth group member.  I served vocally (Youth Choir / Ensemble) and showed up for most every retreat, Disciple Now!, and Bible study that I reasonably could.  I did this because I was a new Christian, and I craved discipleship and youth worship.  

As a teen, this experience quickly taught me that I had to make a choice relative to annoying people (youth or adults).  I could either 1) choose to tolerate them, 2) tolerate them and talk bad about them behind their back, or 3) simply walk away from youth group (stop attending).  I tried hard to choose the former, and I believe I did so because it seemed pointless - & out of line with God's will - to choose otherwise.

I didn't dabble much in volunteer orgs during college (MSU's the Maroon Band notwithstanding), but eventually, post-graduation, I did dabble in a "young architects" version of the American Institute of Architects, join Young Business Leaders here in Jackson and continue forward with church attendance.  From there, I've been involved in our 'hood's homeowners' association as a board / committee member for many years, and on and on.

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As we age, we're more easily annoyed by others.  This is an undisputed claim.  Everyone, for the most part, falls in line with that statement, though there're some unusual exceptions (these are truly exceptional people).

Why is this?

A lot of it has to do with reduced patience, but much of it is centered on our inability to truly be curious (as we once were).

Innate curiosity peaks when we're young.  Children are curious about everything and everyone (even annoying people so long as they're not too intimidating).

Children too recognize their own annoying tendencies.  As we age, we're much less adept at this.  As such, we become comfortable with our own sense of "settled perfection".

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So, what does it mean to be annoying?

Annoying:  causing irritation or annoyance

So often, annoying people behave in ways that are just similar enough for us to recognize, but almost within a wholly distinct language (temperament / attitude) of their own.  We then take a bit of offense (we believe our way is best) to this, and from there, find ourselves irritated by their sloppiness, stupidity, immaturity, etc.

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All of this points me to Samson Society.  Again, one of those volunteer organizations that's filled with all manner of guys relative to backgrounds, location, faith, pedigree, nationality, educational background, sexuality, professional credentials (or lack thereof), marital status, parental status, demographic, vocation, personality, temperament and on and on.

Lots of opportunity to become annoyed with someone due to diversity alone.  Don't you think?

Whether it's whilst rubbing shoulders during a Samson Society meeting (face-to-face or virtual), retreat (National or Intensive), Slack posts, video messaging service, etc.

So, what're your options?

Same ones I had back during my time in youth group at First Baptist Church Jackson.

Remember, whilst making your choice, that the latter two are exactly in line with what Satan hopes for.

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We've talked about gossip here prior, but not so much making a discreet exit from Samson Society (or other parachurch men's orgs) due to annoyance.  

If you attend multiple (3+) Samson Society National Retreats, you'll see ghosts everywhere.  It's disturbing.  Proving that so many men simply don't stick around for longer than a handful of years.  As such, I would argue annoyance plays a factor therein.

Therefore, what can we do as Samson men to combat annoyance?

-  Distance yourself from the annoyers to the best of your ability (remember, Samson Society is a BIG place).

-  Pray for the annoyer(s).

-  Let go of your "list of grievances" that you've amassed against the annoyer (wipe your slate clean) & choose to put down your pen.  

-  Take a hard look at your "curiosity quotient", and if it's "in the negative", ask yourself why.  The last thing Samson needs is an(other) ornery old man.

Harnessing The Intense Pain Of Rejection To Justify Revengeful Murder

Commenting on current events very rarely happens here, but I must say that the active shooter mass shooting in Kentucky yesterday, (4/10) tied my stomach up in knots.  

If the newsfeeds are to be believed, the shooter had been terminated very recently (last week?) from the bank where his livestreamed assault occurred.

Per everything that's been published about the young man, he lived a very blessed, fully supportive life that many would envy having had the opportunity to experience.  

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When I was terminated from Delta State University in September of 2013, the lack of professionalism therein was shocking.  Ultimately, to be demonized and have the majority of your dignity stripped from you via people you look up to is powerfully defeating and isolating.

I too remember, in response to the intense emotional pain I was left with, having thoughts of seeking some sort of murderous revenge.  I recall how disgusted I was at these intrusive scenarios, yet in spite of this, they were at times, quite hard to dismiss.  

Nonetheless, I had the good fortune of being able to easily relocate our family from that setting within +/-30 days of the termination occurring.  Putting that distance between helped tremendously relative to beginning the process of analyzing what had occurred and why in tandem with putting a damper on my vengeful thinking.

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My termination happened unexpectedly, having worked there for almost one year.  Hence, their ridiculously harsh adjudication hit me like a lightning bolt.  The campus architect position was quite demanding overall (& equally as fulfilling).  Therefore, once I was termed, everything came to a screeching halt.  

If I can say anything here that you, dear reader, might take to heart regarding rejection, it is this:  Though you may experience it horrendously from your work, family, friends, God has NOT rejected you.  Too, in time, you will very likely find people who're willing to come alongside you and support you in light of your circumstances.  

The prospect of exacting revenge on individuals who reject you IS NOT IN LINE WITH GOD'S WILL.  

The Bible is clear.  It is God's place to exact revenge.  Not ours.

May the Lord's presence be ever so close to the victims' families as well as the family of the (now deceased) active shooter there in Kentucky.

Lagniappe