Shirtless Douchebag

A reliable friend of mine during our 6th grade year would often invite me over to his abode to spend the night.  This would be a Friday night sleepover, and his house, compared to my parents' was expansive.  Plus, it sat on some beautiful acreage in (then) rural Madison county, and this, compared to what I was used to was absolutely over-the-top.  Therefore, I enjoyed these sleepovers despite my friend's preference for being shirtless during much of our time together there at his home.

When you're given the opportunity as a boy (especially considering my only-child status) to spend time at another boy's home, it's no doubt a privilege.  I knew this, therefore I always kept my uncomfortableness regarding David's semi-naked bod to myself.  As such, I distinctly remember making every attempt to just be cool and collected, recognizing that this was just David's thing.

What was impossible to ignore was the fact that David's body was different than mine, at least from a 12 year-old's point of view.  His looked to be perfectly positioned to rocket forward into adolescence / young manhood whereas mine looked to be stuck in childhood.  David's arms had three distinct parts - shoulder, upper and lower arm.  My arms were not like his.  Mine looked more like a girl's arm with no distinct components from upper to lower - smooth, linear, and extremely lean.

After 6th grade, David changed schools, and I never saw him again, though I have Googled his name as of late.  And not surprisingly, he went on to become a noteworthy college football player as a lead up to him then being appointed as a (quite successful) bank executive in the Natural State.  And based on the publicity photos available online, his physical stature as a man absolutely harkens back to the fun times I spent with him in 1985.

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Today, men's physical appearance is just as much a proponent of their perceived value to society as it ever was during Biblical times.  And if you're surprised at that statement, you're not privy to Scripture; particularly Old Testament stories of men like Saul and David, the first appointed kings of the nation of Israel.

I've written in the past about the physical appeal of some pastors and how God uses that to no doubt further the gospel.

Men's bodies telegraphing physical prowess, by default, personify / exemplify the notion of providing security.  Remember, women (& some men even) crave security.

    

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You don't really begin sizing yourself up against other boys 'till you're in middle school.  I, like so many, faced the truth of my scrawny stature during the infamous, unavoidable 7th grade PE class.  It happened right there during my first period (or first block) at 8:10 AM Monday through Friday at Madison - Ridgeland Academy.  This was Rob's reckoning.

And that's when / where my self loathing really took shape.  So much so, in fact, that I quickly became unable to even evaluate my own physical self sans feeling worthless.  And that's when God wisely shattered my adjudication mirror, and by doing so, sort of supernaturally acknowledged how hard I was being on myself.

Thanks be to God.  (& no, I don't ever want that mirror repaired.)

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It's important that you understand something about Rob before continuing here.  In particular, as a child, I was a highly visual boy.  And this trait was easily refined, years later, as I pursued my degree in architecture.  For so much of one's work as an architect utilizes one's ability to see.

The other component of this part of my childhood was my disillusionment with my parents, right about the time I'd reached puberty.  This grew out of my mother's adulterous behavior (while I was in 5th grade) and the subsequent ongoing marital turmoil that resulted.  To summarize, as the only child in the house at the time, I consciously decoupled myself emotionally from both my father and mother as a result of feeling massively neglected through the entire ordeal.

As a result, all of this lead up to me choosing to idolize boys / men who met a certain physical standard, and within the throes of that idolization, I chose to homosexual lust intensely.  So much so, in fact, that it became cathartic relative to my now inability to at all see my own self with any accuracy (as yet another of God's image-bearers).

And these boys / men that I lusted for weren't just flesh and blood targets within my sphere of influence (school / church, etc.), but beautiful men who allowed themselves to be photographed within exercise magazines, greeting cards, wall calendars, etc.

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I'm a 48 year-old man today, and I still cannot see myself.  Yet I do at times catch glimpses.  And this is a unique part of my story that I'm a little hesitant even to share here.

Earlier this week, I dusted off our scales and weighed myself, and the number that the scale declared was larger than any I'd seen throughout my life.  And I was elated.

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For a sizable portion of my adult life, from the standpoint of hobbies, much of my time has been invested in either strength training (at a gym) or running.  And I believe this is because I'm not your typical middle / upper-class white Mississippi male.  What I mean by that is I simply don't enjoy hunting / fishing or SEC sports, social drinking / tobacco usage, camping, etc.  And as a result, my body today reflects this.  Plus, I'm an introvert, therefore spending time alone, taking part in these regimens, is fine by me.

But it's taken years and years of dedication for me to have reached this point.

Yet, I don't consider myself to be vain.  I don't obsess over my body, nor have I ever attempted to commit to some - outcome-based - progressive exercise program.  Instead, I simply run 10k a week and strength train twice (separated by at least one day).

I do try and eat wisely, yet I don't drink protein shakes nor take supplements of any kind whilst never, ever intermittently fasting.

And I strive to execute perfect form during every workout prior to stretching thoroughly (which awkwardly gains a lot of attention there at the Y).

My goal is to continue this routine 'till I drop dead, therefore recognizing that goal, I strive to be realistic relative to time spent / outlook for the long-term.  Good (not perfect) health is my main goal in committing to this.

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My first Silas (pre-Samson Society involvement) would run with me on Tuesday nights once a week.  The year was 2011.  He lived just a few miles from me, therefore logistically, it was easy to meet up at my abode for our weekly run.  I remember hesitatingly asking him if we could do so shirtless (during warm evenings), and he agreed to this.  This man was / is +/-5 years younger than Rob, and at the outset of us running semi-nude, he was and had been complacent in his focus relative to physical health.

But that seemed to change rather quickly as we continued to meet up.  It didn't take long for him to also make strength training a priority, coupled with our weekly runs.

More recently, I've run with other Samson guys, and as before, even boldly suggesting they too do so shirtless.  

What I've found is every man who agrees to this is no doubt taking a risk.  But it's not the risk as they understand it.  Instead, it's providing me with what those scales did a few days ago.  That is a chance to see me in light of themselves.  And I cannot emphasize enough here how grateful I am for these opportunities.  For again, I CANNOT SEE MYSELF OTHERWISE.

Last fall, I had the privilege of spending time with my Silas as he competed in an exercise competition with one of his college friends as his competition teammate.  My Silas was shirtless through a portion of this event and this was humbling to experience, but even moreso was the fact that despite me not being there to compete, a number of his fellow competitors asked why I wasn't.

Me.

Me?

Me.

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I don't know where I'd be today sans my exercise regimen.  It has certainly been time well spent / invested in as it pertains to my personal thorns.  Yet, I realize my issues are my own.

Though I don't take selfies (I'm not sure why I volunteered that here), on many occasions today I do enjoy lounging around our house shirtless.  Sometimes even, I eat meals with the family that way.  Nevertheless, I still hesitate to walk to the mailbox without a shirt on, and I absolutely do not run shirtless unless it's very early AM or after dark PM.

I have to wonder if my childhood friend, David, as a 48-year old is still as comfortable shirtless as I now am.  I hope so.  Looking back, I'm really grateful that he befriended me during a season of my life where my body felt more like a liability than anything else.

Lagniappe

Dying With Precision

Penthouse magazines stashed under my uncle's bed.  That was my first foray into pornographic imagery.  I was in upper elementary school at the time.  Staying at my uncle and aunt's apartment in West Jackson for the evening (w/ my cousin), the time it took for my cousin and I took leaf through these was enough for me to understand in detail who my uncle actually was.

He was my dad's oldest brother, named after my late grandfather.  And this meant he and I were family, connected together by genetics, predispositions and setting.  No questions asked.

Now, I did not admire my uncle for owning Penthouse magazines, especially considering the fact that he was a married man, but I did now clearly understand this man's delight in lust.  For I too delighted in tickling / baiting that part of my brain, especially considering its adolescent emergence at the time.

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Many men delight in lust, and therefore choose to identify as such.  

My uncle likely visited strip clubs in order to also partake of those opportunities at that level.  He may even have employed a prostitute on occasion.  

In contrast to my own father, he was unabashed about indulging in narcissistic, fleshly behaviors of all kinds.

And this, no doubt, cost him physically and spiritually.  

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Work is drudgery.  No matter how you slice it, working to earn money requires persistence and a boatload of mundane time invested.  For many of us, computers make our lives at work much easier, but also provide for opportunities to look away from our vocational proceedings (for better or for worse).

At my office, this has been ongoing (for far longer than I really care to admit), via one PC in particular, for some time now.  

And of course, the time I spend there (at that PC) is done in such a manner as to tickle that aforementioned portion (lust) of my brain, no thanks to the www, even if for a few minutes a day.

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My uncle died right before Christmas.  He was eating alone at a local Madison restaurant when he had a massive heart attack.  From there, he was transported by ambulance to St. Dominic's hospital where he was pronounced dead.  We buried him the Saturday after Christmas in Belzoni, MS.

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Will this portion of me myself die with him?

I'm banking on it.

Good riddance.

I do not wish to honor / keep that memory of him alive.  Let it die with him.

The Infidelity Vaccine / Salacious Selfies

I have Covenant Eyes on every Internet capable device I have access to, and the reason for this is I cannot be trusted online whilst by myself.  As an introvert, in particular, the Internet presents an opportunity for Rob to escape into the digital abyss, and I've taken this approach so many times prior that it's now my default online modus operandi.  Covenant Eyes in a sentinel program that constantly monitors my screen(s) for salacious imagery via its algorithmic magic.  From there, it compiles screenshots that the software believes should be reviewed by my accountability partners - every few days, once a week, & so forth.  And those accountability partners receive those reports via scheduled emails.

A few months back, I get this forwarded email from my accountability partner.  It was one of my Covenant Eyes reports titled "Recommended Review for Rob" and within were all these blurry thumbnail-sized screenshots.  The images were obviously amateur photos of a buck naked man who looked as if he were either absolutely caught off guard or having a grand time.  

My heart stopped beating and time stood still.

"Oh no."

The photos were selfies of none other than me.

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My mother cheated on my dad when I was between 9 and 10 years old.  I was in 4th grade, and as an only child, I vividly remember the massive familial fallout relative to this ongoing tryst.  The man who seduced my mom was her boss, and apparently, he was quite the specimen of an older man.  Based on what my father has shared with me regarding this harrowing season within their marriage, "Ron" was so intimidating / influential that my dad refused to confront him.  Instead, he hired a private investigator to follow them, take photos, bug their hotel rooms, etc.  From there, he had the goods on my mom to nail her to the wall, all the while sinking into a deep despair as the love of his life betrayed him over and over again.

But (for better or worse - I honestly don't know which) instead of him choosing to take a legal stand, he chose to stay with her, but as punishment for her 6+ month (or longer) long fling, he decried her forever, unequivocally untrustworthy.  Therefore even today, he holds all of this illicit behavior over her head.  It's nauseating to witness, yet her own self-loathing that grew out of this tryst actually feeds off of his scorn and continually indirect shaming.  Therefore, as you can imagine, all of this dysfunction has made a distinct impression on me as the Junior.

Keep in mind too, I'm a 48-year old man, therefore this adulterous event occurred almost 40 years ago when my parents were both in their mid to late-twenties.  Their marriage was almost brand new, and they were very young.  All in all though, it's a freaking long time for anyone to live under their spouse's thumb, yet that's the summation of the tolerated dynamics within their very unhealthy yet not at all unique marriage arrangement.

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Northpark Mall was brought online in Ridgeland, MS in the early '80s, and man, it was no doubt a huge retail success for central Mississippi.  My few friends and I would hang out there most every weekend, and eventually, once I turned 15, I began working there at the Chick-A-Fil.  Good memories.

I distinctly remember the interior color palette and many of the seemingly neverending storefront retailers.  It was the epicenter of activity during the 1980s.  A venerable church of consumerism.

This past Saturday, my family met my parents at the Renaissance mall which is also in Ridgeland.  This retail complex was brought online in the relatively recent past, and just as Northpark was during it's heyday, it's been a huge commercial success.  As we did our fair share of loitering, I began to feel quite nostalgic.

The differences though between these two mall experiences are just distinct enough (taking the decades between their origins into account) for its patrons to believe that they're experiencing something completely new and different, but they're really not.  Overall, they're all put together just like every other retail mall mousetrap just with a revised shine for the next generation of consumers.

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Jesus made quite the declaration when he told his followers that lust in a man's heart equated to adultery.

Do what?  Did I hear that one correctly?

That's what he said.

He did this because he obviously knew man's heart well enough to portend that sin originates from there.

I walk a fine line whilst choosing to lust.  Overall, I have a deep seated understanding of just how devastating infidelity can be to a marriage / family.  Just as my own children have a firsthand experience with watching their parents suffer through a spouse's debilitating illness and all the ramifications therein. 

But, an experiential vaccine does not provide 100% immunity.  No vaccine does.

I'm still vulnerable, if not moreso - considering my pedigree.

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One of the first questions my Covenant Eyes accountability partner asked me regarding the aforementioned report was "What is going on?".  He couldn't tell via the blurry thumbnail photos within my report that they were of Rob.  Therefore, I explained, and from there, he asked who I'd sent them to.  I replied by saying "No one".  And that was the truth.  

But it served as a needed wake up call.

No more selfies.  No matter how novel or mainstream the experience may seem.

Thanks be to God for Covenant Eyes and my accountability partner.

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The entire foundation of western culture is built on novelty.  We as a people celebrate it, revere it, worship it.  Therefore, it permeates everything within corporate America, and as such its influence is exponential.  

I would argue that most trysts grow out of this same dumb reflex of ours as human beings whether it involves the latest technology gimmick or otherwise.

We human beings really are sheep.  So stupid.  So impressionable.  So easily deceived.  Yet, our Enemy lies to us constantly regarding this.   

"You will surely not die."

  

Lagniappe

More Lagniappe

God Doesn't Love You. All He's Out To Do Is Punish & Shame.

It's difficult at times to see our Heavenly Father with any Biblical accuracy.  And this is especially true when we're not able to look back onto ourselves and hold a steady, non-judgmental (fleshly) stare.  We'll never be God, therefore seeing ourselves as he sees us is only possible when we hear directly from him via his Word, or taking the Holy Spirit into consideration, through those who communicate on his behalf about us.  But too, there's the need to quantify / qualify what God made in us as his image-bearers.  This is an important step.  For I would argue we always start within our own understanding of ourselves whilst acknowledging God.  Therefore, if our Enemy can short-circuit that, he's one step ahead of distorting our view of our Creator.

During this time of quarantine, many of us are choosing to face - more and more - who we are, and this is due to the fact that circumstantially the world as we know it has changed overnight.  And if we're finding that our personal "review" is skewed towards the worthlessness end of the qualitative spectrum, then I'm convinced many of us also - in tandem with that view - choose to see God more towards the punisher end of the spectrum.  

Why is this?

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Years ago, I worked at the state of MS with a man who was about my age despite the fact that his physical build was much older than my own.  And this was no doubt due to his lifelong disregard for any form of exercise / eating healthily.  Overall, his passion was work and being hyper-critical of everyone around him (which he was an expert at).  To sum him up, he was brilliant but secretly eat up with worthlessness, and despite the fact that he was just a few years older than I, his physical self was much older.

During one holiday season, we had a Christmas party for our bureaucracy one evening off site.  There were about 20 of us that attended with our families.  It was apparent this guy loathed being there, having zero means of pretending otherwise.  The following week, someone projected a photo slide show within our conference space.  The images were candid photos taken at said Christmas party.  Most of our bureau wandered in and out of presentation in order to reminiscence in an effort to take it (back) in.

What stood out to me was what happened when a photo would be projected containing the aforementioned worthlessness man.  

He would wince.  Literally.

As if he were being hit with internal pangs of disgust at the images of himself.

It was depressing to witness.

I mean, I know even today I'm not all that keen regarding seeing photos of Rob, but this man's reaction was more akin to how I used to react to photos of myself back in middle school.  And because that period of my life was so detrimental to my understanding of God (through my understanding of myself), I'm in tune to this wretched state of mind even today.

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This iconic photo was referenced by a Samson Society friend of mine a few years back.  It was his GoTo graphical analogy for our Heavenly Father at the time.  Again, to reiterate what I said earlier.  The Punisher.  Is there any more suitable 20th century icon who's more well suited to this title than Mohammed Ali?

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To summarize, I'm convinced Satan is tactical in his methods of distorting who we see and understand God to be, and that his primary line of attack relative to this distortion is what we believe / how much we see accurately of our own created selves.  The Bible uses the analogy that we as human beings are like dumb sheep.  That gives me little faith in myself as a clear-headed holistically comprehended man.  Do you get my drift? 

What's the logical, spiritually healthy step here if we're stuck not being able to see ourselves accurately?  How might our understanding of God eventually be impacted if we don't take those steps?  

And finally, is it possible to hate God in line with our own personal disdain for who we understand ourselves to be?  

As Sarah Palin would say, "You betcha" (to that 3rd question).

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This dear reader is the cover of a beefcake magazine.  "Exercise For Men Only" was published back in the late '80s when I was a boy.  When I peered at the photos of these men whilst perusing through the pages of these mags at my local K & B drugstore in northeast Jackson, something heady stirred inside of me that said, "I want what they have, and realistically, the easiest way to obtain it is to firstly discount / invalidate my own worth."  Therefore, I put those muscular, masculine physiques at the upper echelon of importance relative to what Rob qualified as value tied to manhood, and conversely, I discounted anything and everything contained within my own created self (as I comprehended it at the time).  

Please understand who I was as a Madison county middle schooler.  

First and foremost, I was highly, highly visual.  Therefore, beautiful beefcake photos like this one were the bane of Rob.  And this was because I'd never seen imagery like this prior.  Never had I stepped foot in a gym or locker room much less onto a southern California beach where young men like this might peruse around semi-nude.    

I grew up adoring comic books and cartoons.  Science fiction film and television programming were absolutely glorious finds / escapes for me as a young boy.  Hence, my imagination was an efficient, well-oiled machine.

My father was emotionally unavailable, and my mother, I felt, couldn't be trusted with my feelings (mainly due to her being female).  I had no siblings, and no adult male role models (who were close in proximity).  At the time, my life consisted of me, myself, and I, living up in my teenage head day after day after day.

So, I began creating my own role models by using beefcake magazines to sexually fantasize, and from there God too became none other than the Punisher.  I was all too familiar with Scripture and how it condemned both lust and homosexual activity in reaction to what I was doing upstairs whilst pulling on my thingy.

But, I couldn't stop.  The fantasies were fulfilling and oh so pleasurable.  The illusion of being valued within these dreams actually sufficed.  They had to.  There was no other means for me to survive my internal disdain and subsequent God confusion.

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I spent some time with my Silas last night, and I was explaining to him that the firmest identifier of humanity is our penchant for adaptability.  

If you purchase a beautiful, healthy plant at the nursery, you'd best plant and nurture it as recommended.  Otherwise, it likely won't stay alive for very long.  

Humans are the opposite of that.  And so often that adaptability grows out of our flesh (sin nature).  This is what fuels many human rights (legal) conversations that are rooted in equality.  

So really, it's not that we're just dumb sheep, but we're also no doubt blind and dumb sheep.  And this is so much worse.

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Yesterday, I spent some time with a friend over breakfast who's dealing with the wretched ramifications of vocational envy.  My heart absolutely breaks for this man.  I've known him for many years, and there's no doubt that he's both humble and devout.  Though he was uncomfortable hearing it, I attempted to reflect truthfully into him who God has made him to be as we sat there (+/-6'-0" apart).  And this today has reminded me of subtle experiences I had growing up where older men were kind enough to do this for me.  Not necessarily with the same intensity / intentionality, but definitely with the (hopefully) similar worthwhile effectiveness.

These men (used no doubt by the Holy Spirit) were my employers, college professors, and so forth.  People that I had the good fortune to rub shoulders with day in and day out during the mundaneness of life's circumstances.  They were men whom I chose to not ignore or discount because I was in someway circumstantially obligated to pay heed to their input (respect).

Over time, enough of this goodness amassed within me that it allowed me to eventually choose to stop my beefcake fantasy life.  And when that ceased, I slowly began to see myself more clearly, and this in turn positively impacted by accurate view of my Heavenly Father.  Therefore, my commitment to Bible study and prayer turned the corner as well as all manner of church work itself.   

Of course, much of that growth did hit a seriously tumultuous patch when the Internet came on the scene (Internet porn), but had those initial seeds not been planted, I'm convinced the bondage that I was once in would no doubt be just as enveloping (& isolating) as ever here in 2020.

Thanks be to God for his steadfast hand within the life of this particular sheep.  He is no doubt so much more than I every initially saw him to be.

Lagniappe

How The Fear Of God Can Sober Us Up To The Reality Of Chronic Sin

You've heard of people doing a "cleanse" of their digestive system?  As far as I know, they drink some magic elixir (processed smoothie), and from there, they defecate their "past self" down the loo.

I suppose the idea here is some sort of guttural reboot.  I don't know.  It sounds interesting though in concept (though really stinky).

Wouldn't it be interesting if we could do that with our souls?

Perhaps due to the quarantine, we actually can.  Without drinking some gross-tasting magic elixir.

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Chronic sin - especially when it involves other human beings or tangible "landmarks" - is monumentally difficult to break free from under normal, everyday circumstances.  Take for example a man involved intimately with a female co-worker.  Perhaps the relationship hasn't become sexual except within his lustful fantasies, but nonetheless, his flirting with her at work 5 days a week promulgates this sin.  Or a man who meets up discreetly with his lover once or twice a month, unbeknownst to his family.  And finally, the man who masturbates at work behind closed doors as he fantasizes about his fetish whilst viewing photos / videos on his pocket computer.

Relative to drunkenness or gluttony, consider the man who travels by car / plane regularly for work and who serendipitously maps his trip in close proximity to local watering holes / fast-food & ice cream parlors.  Adult bookstores could certainly be treated the same here.

You get my drift.

God wants us in communion with him, and this requires obedience to his commands.  What better way to be reminded of this than for him to interrupt our focus on the routine - family, work, church, and on and on via the quarantine?

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Here's sort of an inverse analogy to what I'm describing here.

My wife, Angie, tripped over her feet in our driveway +/-8 weeks ago.  Unfortunately for her, she then proceeded to fall on her left arm / shoulder, severely bruising it from stem to stern.  From there, for about 5 weeks, she kept this arm completely immobile via a sling, wearing it throughout the day due to the intense pain from the bruising (both internal and external).  About three weeks ago, I began working with her to "re-learn" how to use this previously immobile limb.  This has involved both at the gym and (now) at-home exercises, and wow, has she progressed marvelously!

But this hasn't been easy for her in the least due to two new realities:

1.  How weak / easily fatigued her left arm now is due to its (more or less) complete 30-day immobilization coupled with the severe injury.

2.  How atrophied her left arm now is due to its (more or less) complete 30-day immobilization coupled with the severe injury.

There's been many tears shed by my sweet Angie as I challenge her to lift and stretch with that left arm as she did prior to her fall.  The pain in her joints, in particular, is intense, but each time we do this work, her arm strengthens / her arm's mobility improves exponentially.  And afterwards, she smiles more due to her accomplished good work (which makes me smile too).

It's important that you understand my motivation here in order for this inverse analogy to be utilized to its full potential.

I know the Angie before her accidental injury, and it's the one I want back.  For example, she and I haven't been sexually intimate for well over 2 months (maybe 3).  It's simply not been feasible.  And sex for us is really important, and not just because I'm great in bed (hah!).  As within any healthy marriage, intercourse for us is loads of fun plus it demonstrates our commitment to each other.  Therefore, in light of our circumstantial celibacy, our marriage has felt more like roomies than anything else.  And this is beginning to have a long-term negative impact.

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If you're cognizant to God's pursuit of your heart today, perhaps he's expecting you to exploit the quarantine to its full potential by re-thinking / repenting of chronic sin now that it's so easily identifiable / recognizable to you.

I realize that may hurt to hear, but if it does, you may have a serious problem, my friend.

Nevertheless, please remember that Samson Society is here to help.  Consider getting involved today - especially during the quarantine.  We'll benefit from your involvement as much (or more) as you'll benefit from knowing all of us.

Take the steps to re-think your involvement in chronic sin today.  It may just be now or never.

Refuse to lie to yourself or wear flowers in your hair.

Lagniappe

Degrees Of Vulnerability / Predisposition to Negative Influence

The second library design I had the good fortune of working on as an architect (around 2001) received an additional building plaque upon the building's completion.  This bronze plaque was a tad bit smaller scale than the standard plaque (which sat adjacent), and it was cast in honor of the director of the library system herself.

The library system that we worked for relative to designing the building had lost their director to cancer just a few months prior to the building being completed.  I'd only worked with her for a few months during the planning phase prior to her getting very sick and having to forego her work as director.  This woman was young.  If I had to guess, I'd say around my age today (47) or younger, and like every librarian I've ever had the privilege to work with, she was articulate and intelligent with so much steadfastness.

Yesterday, I went to a park in Jackson to run, and due to the superb Spring weather, there were Jacksonians everywhere walking, running, and talking on their pocket computers (all at the same time).  Obviously since I was in Jackson, most of these people were black which left me in the minority as a white man, and this got me thinking about blacks in relation to COVID-19.

The aforementioned library system director, Rose, was black.  In fact, she was the first professional black woman I'd had the privilege to work with here in Mississippi (which was very cool).  After she died, I came across some research that detailed how blacks are more prone to succumb to illness than other races.  Illnesses like cancer, heart disease, diabetes type 2...the incurable, life-threatening ones.  And this was due to the fact that their bodies don't respond as well to typical forms of medical treatment.

I remember how sad this made me for Rose as well as the entire black community.  Especially considering that so many blacks live here in Mississippi.  Having grown up here, it was eye-opening to learn this about their race.  Because whites and blacks stay so segregated from each other here in Mississippi, it's hard to be sympathetic at all due to the distance that's always there between our two races.

And of course, this got me thinking about the current pandemic, and how perhaps the black community may be more at risk than other races to suffer more / succumb to the virus.  Or vice versa.  Scary, macabre stuff, I know, but it's difficult not to think about the macabre these days.

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I recall, many years ago, the first commercial air flight I took where the majority of passengers had a tablet device with them.  A new friend, sitting adjacent, had one, and he was excited about "HBO GO" or somesuch app that had recently come available.  He talked (believe it or not) briefly about recently finalized / concluded HBO programming which he'd obviously enjoyed immensely.  Based on what I understood, the HBO GO app would now allow him to seamlessly take the content with him on the go.

When I was a teen, HBO was Home Box Office.  It was film content (all PG-rated before 6 PM during weekdays) with some Fraggle Rock thrown in for good measure.  HBO was "premium TV programming", and as such cost as much or more than all your other cable programming combined.  Hence, few families (here in MS at least) purchased it back in the '80s.

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Terminator was the first R-rated film I believe I screened (in its almost entirety), thanks to HBO (at my best friend's house - one weekend).  I vividly remember sitting adjacent to my friend's older sister (she was 16), and having her detail the following commentary to my 14 year-old self as she provided visual aids with her hands.

"I bet his dick is this long."  

Even today, whilst recounting that moment, I feel dirty inside.  Knowing full well that I shouldn't have been watching due to the corrupting impression that was occurring in real time.

But what was I to do?  How could I possibly look away / leave the room?

I was simply too vulnerable to resist.

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Hollywood is owned by the public.  The companies that make films, small screen programming are publicly owned.  Therefore, they answer firstly to their shareholders.  And their shareholders are concerned with nothing more than market value and dividends.  Therefore, Hollywood entertainment studios push the boundaries constantly in order to grab as much of the public's attention as they can.  And more often than not, that content is hyper-sexualized due to the fact that so many of us are vulnerable to it.

They do not concern themselves with whom is watching.  They do not see that as their business.

There's big money to be made in Hollywood.  At the expense of so many.

But, as we know, the accumulation of material wealth is first and foremost within the minds of men.  People will do just about anything to get rich.

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Where are you vulnerable?  Do you know?  What steps have you taken to protect yourself?  What did that first foray into filth look like for you?  What were the specific circumstances where your young eyes were taken advantage of?  I believe it's important that you document that to yourself in order to attempt to make peace with it if you believe you'd benefit from it.  And finally, are you willing to add to Hollywood's coffers when they refuse to take anyone or anything but their balance sheets into consideration?

A new Samson Society friend told me recently that he'd given his television to a brother in Christ for safekeeping.  I thought that was so brave of him to admit to.  Especially considering the fact that his employer is partially an entertainment company.  Sure, it sounds extreme, but I would argue, during this day and age, extreme measures are needed if you're serious about protecting yourself from your own personal weaknesses.  

Put yourself first in this regard.  Always.  Don't pretend that we're all hardwired the same.  That's what our culture (& Satan) attempts to use to deceive us all.  Either that or he whispers in our ear that we deserve to be entertained with salacious material.  And we all know that's nothing but a crock of shit.

Why Do We Sometimes Find Ourselves Mourning / Grieving The Loss Of A Part Of Ourselves That We Should Be Happy To Be Rid Of? / [Who Or What Exactly Is Influencing You?]

Because we're not actually rid of it (to answer my first question).  Especially if the ideals enumerated within that history are celebrated / go viral within our (now digital) culture.

Our lives aren't like a hard drive within a PC that's written over and over.  Who we were and who we are and who we're becoming is a linear narrative.  What's weird is that as an Christian, you'd think this grieving would actually never occur.  Instead, shouldn't we be celebrating?  Nevertheless, the reality is we have memories of who we were in the past coupled with how we once reacted / rationalized / understood the world around us.

But too (and to attempt to continue succinctly answering my first question), we're not necessarily individuals.  Instead, we're part of humanity.  Whatever that means (temperamental point of view / attitude towards fellow man) for each man at whatever point in time he happens to exist within.  Nothing can completely separate us from life, moving forward, on Earth - side by side amongst our neighbors, co-workers, family, and so forth digitally or otherwise.

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The culture continues to degrade, decouple, diminish God's relevancy.  It's happening all around us.  And we cannot stop that from happening.  I mean, we can pray for revival, but otherwise it's out of our control within this Fallen world.  Yet, as believers, we are still no doubt part of that collective despite the fact that this remains no longer our true home.

Hence, we cannot (or at least we should not) extract ourselves from culture.  Nothing in God's word lends credence to this approach.  Otherwise, how would we witness?  No story can be told sans an audience.

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When I was in college, I spent one summer living with my parents in a rental house here in Jackson.  My best friend from high school was also home that same summer, and as a nice gesture, I decided to detail his car for him.

What I learned from this experience was how impossible it was to overlook the neglect he'd wrought onto his poor car, having now attempted to restore it to its once former showroom glory.  Therefore, I never offered to do this again.  Now, it didn't keep me from riding with him in the car, but I did not ever want to be tasked with being able to see the damage his car had endured and continued to endure day after day.

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We see so much about so many people these days thanks to the Internet.  And, I'm not just referring to entertainment, but arguably the very reason the www exists is to provide us with access to an unlimited amount of data on lives lived and living.  Too, you can step farther back and see the same relative to groupings of people, how they behave, what their moral standings are / are not.  Many, many people use this to their monetary advantage online within this influencer age.

For an amateur sociologist like me, it's a fascinating tool / curse, this thing called the Internet.  But, aren't we all becoming amateur sociologist as we search, scroll, post and click?

It's like you can detail every car or a certain portion of every car you see.  Every.  Single.  Freaking.  Car.  Which is insane.  And arguably, completely out of line in how we were meant to live out our lives.

Now, whether or not that online process results in a realistic (of course it does not) pursuit, nevertheless, the process is there for any and everyone who can run a browser to take part in.  We are literally now slaves to the data.

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Everyone knows that detailing automobiles isn't normal human behavior because it's really hard work that takes an immense amount of scrutiny and patience to accomplish well.  Washing a car on the other hand, is normal behavior.  Especially if you have some help from your local automated car wash.  It's an 8 to 10 minute job compared to a 3 or 4 hour job.

To circle back to my friend's car and that summer detailing job I did for him, the impact that reality made on me (his neglect) also reflected back on me from the standpoint that this was my best friend.  Therefore, his neglect was categorized as "very personally recognizable", and therefore undeniable - in so many ways.  Subsequently, I felt ashamed and disappointed.  And not just at him, but at myself for not having been able to necessarily do more...either then or perhaps earlier on.  [Keep in mind that at this time of my life, I was quite the car aficionado.]

Now on the flip side of that internal adjudication, staying within that same "very personally recognizable" realm, I also could have felt similarly ashamed and disappointed in myself, but for a whole different set of reasons.  For instance, I may have then considered myself to have been none the smarter for actually "wasting my time" on keeping my own car in tiptop shape.

Do you see the undeniable influence there relative to both time / effort spent and who I'd dubbed "very personally recognizable"?

This influence points us back to what I wrote earlier on.  Here it is again:

But too (and to attempt to continue succinctly answering my first question), we're not necessarily individuals.  Instead, we're part of humanity.  Whatever that means (temperamental point of view / attitude towards fellow man) for each man at whatever point in time he happens to exist within.  Nothing can completely separate us from life, moving forward, on Earth - side by side amongst our neighbors, co-workers, family, and so forth digitally or otherwise.

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The Internet, for me at least, can serve as a massive junkyard, but it's one where categorically the cars are organized expertly (thanks to search engines) alongside seemingly unlimited toolsets.  Toolsets which make for easy, almost instantaneous salvaging, study, and research.  I love that.

The problem is exacerbated though for guys like me.  Guys who simply can't get enough of cars.

But that's a sorry excuse.  I've bought into the lie (in more ways than one) that there's no way to actually resurrect the dead or at least a portion of yourself that once was (for worse) living, breathing tissue.  Therefore, I've thought for too long that playing it safe online doesn't really apply to me.  How arrogant I've become!

Philippians 2:4

Our family took a short vacation over the past few days up to Yazoo county.  My wife's deceased uncle left his 4 children a spectacular farmhouse there that we're privileged to gain access to on occasion.  It sits on 60 pastoral acres, and the terrain there is quite un-Mississippi like (hilly).  To sum it up, the hardwood trees are spectacular and the 3 ponds bucolic.  We absolutely love spending time there, stealing away (pro bono) from the city.

Not long after Angie and I were married 23 years ago, this same uncle hosted Thanksgiving at his home in Yazoo City (the county seat of Yazoo county).  I remember driving up with my wife's family and her brother to spend Thanksgiving lunch with everyone there.  Their home (now sold off) sat on the country club golf course and the layout was very much unlike what I expected to see ('70s modern).  This was the only time I recall Thanksgiving being hosted at this venue.

After a couple of three hours of familial investing around the dinner table, we departed for Jackson.  Our time there had been delightful.  My wife's family was so welcoming and engaging.  I was thrilled to have had the opportunity to take part, therefore even today, as I'm coming off of our mini-vacation, I'm nostalgic relative to that day decades prior.

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One of the first attributes of my in-laws that I was made aware of as their son-in-law was their refined palettes.  It was obvious from the getgo that meals for them were especially savored, whether they were served at their home or eaten out.  This was not what I'd ever witnessed prior within my own home.  The Turners didn't take the time to savor food.  There were too many other things to move on to after breakfast / lunch / dinner, if you know what I mean.  And honestly, I believe my in-laws sensed that, and thought less of me for it (which whilst looking back, I can understand).

As we were backing out of the driveway from the aforementioned Thanksgiving meal in Yazoo City, I remember distinctly that the food critiquing was kicked off by my brother in-law.  From there, I was in awe as I listened to everyone precisely adjudicate the meal we'd just partaken of as one would critique a film / play at the local movie house / theater.  I had no idea just how outmatched / out of my league I truly was, therefore I just sat there with a big grin on my face.

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My mother is what I'm going to dub here as an amateur interior decorator / gardener, and her feng shui is hyper-focused on popular trends.  In fact, the trendier, the better.  One of her favorite pastimes is touring other people's homes / gardens in order to critique and steal ideas for her own home / garden.  As an only child (boy), I was always interested in hanging out with friends in order to counteract the inherent singular boredom.  My mom, on occasion, would strongly hint that hanging out at other kids' abodes would be doing her a favor in light of the work that entailed having to tidy up her masterpiece after us "hoodlums".  I share that here as an example of just how invested she was / is in her home.  It is and always has been truly spectacular.

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There is great wisdom in looking closely at one's surroundings in order to understand to the best of your biased ability who you are in context to those around you, but to also do this with other people's feelings / spiritual value in mind is truly an extraordinary feat.

In order to do so, one must have humility overlayed with care and concern.  And those traits are not of man's flesh.  Not at all.  Hence, the mandate of the transformational gospel must come into play.

One thing, I have found, that helps though is being cognizant of your own brokenness (sin nature) and exactly how crippling it truly is / has been.  Being able to name it, explain it, quantify it - so to speak - puts your outlook at an advantage here and hopefully will guardrail you from ALSO dragging others under as well (when you do choose to give into your rebellious nature).

But, I have to admit, it's finding that balance that's such a challenge for me.  I can be so critical whilst tapping into my observational / critiquing skills, never once taking into consideration how my adjudication might be received.  And the opposite too can occur.  Years ago, I took it upon myself to compliment another Samson man's courageous approach to an outdoor endeavor we both chose to take part in one Summer afternoon, and from there, due exclusively to my approach, I put our friendship over the edge.

It is very hard for me to know exactly how to execute the wisdom of this verse day to day.  Nevertheless, I do believe the best approach is a cautionary one mated to that age-old reminder (for me and everyone else) that I'm truly the most fucked up of all.   May God grant me the wisdom to live out Philippians 2:4 to his glory within 2020!

I Dream Of Sodomy

Dreams can really throw a person for a loop.  At least during the entire day(s) following.

Over the past two Saturdays, I've taken each of my oldest two daughters out individually for a run / bike ride.  There's a nature trail about 1.5 miles from our abode, and oftentimes, we make the 1/2 mile loop there too once we arrive.  At the front of the trail is a quiet, spacious pavilion.  It's a perfect spot for a private chat.

It was amazing to me how much more my 16 year-old knew of sex education than my 14 year-old.  For this was my ulterior motive in taking them out with me.  As most of you know, I could talk about sex all day.  It truly is my most favorite topic.  And spending one on one time with my whiny teenagers sans my favorite subject simply wasn't going to happen - at least on these two particular Saturdays.

Both of my girls were shocked at hearing about sodomy.  Just the whole notion of someone being sexual with their anus / rectum freaked them out.  And I suppose this was to be expected due to their being females who're obviously cognizant of what a vagina is designed for.  Therefore, why would you ever think to insert / consider inserting something into someone's butt?

Gross.  This was both of their consensus.

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I sometimes dream about working once again within the field of architecture or being back in architecture school.  These are the kind of dreams that I wake up from and am so grateful they're only dreams and not reality.  But, I must admit they're still somewhat distressing to me due to the fact that the negative emotions they convey / stir up inside of me are very, very intense.  And these are emotional responses that are occurring while I sleep!  Sleeping is supposed to be an emotional respite, is it not?  Perhaps, but not whilst dreaming.

So just a few nights ago, I dreamt that I was sodomizing someone.  I have no idea whom, but man, it was intensely pleasurable within my dream.

And then I woke up and felt as if I'd been harassed by my mind.  For you see, the night before I'd spent close to an hour petitioning the Lakeside Presbyterian Church's missions committee to add Samson House to the church's annual missions giving budget.  Therefore, I felt quite vulnerable and exhausted already, and certainly from there wasn't expecting to wake up from this!

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Many years ago, I attended a State Board of Architecture continuing education class at The Old Capitol Museum in downtown Jackson.  The museum had been recently renovated throughout with some super deluxe, taxpayer-funded interior finishes.  For instance, the bathrooms were gleaming with polished white marble walls / floors.  I remember using the restroom during a break and being shocked to see via the highly reflective polished marble flooring what was happening within the adjacent handicap stall.  And in return, I was equally as creeped out over the fact that everyone else could see me as well!  Stupid architect.

I believe dreams are like this.  The mind, via dreams, provides us with an opportunity to almost step into another reality through this weirdly explicit sensory experience that opens up on its own.  And oftentimes these dreams leave us shocked after the fact because they serve to interrupt our mental routine / thought life.

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In the past, a friend of mine found himself entangled emotionally with a very attractive co-worker and like so many of these relationships, it had matured rapidly over time into something that was much bigger and more distracting than he'd imagined it ever becoming.  He recalled to me vivid sexually explicit dreams he was having that involved her, and this disturbed him greatly as my friend was married with children with no intentions of leaving his family for this pagan woman.

Thankfully, it was these dreams that, I believe, served to shock him enough to realize just what essentially might become were he to continue forward.  Therefore, over time, he throttled back on his investment in the relationship 'till it collapsed entirely due to neglect.

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As you know, my sexuality leans towards homosexual and always has.  Though I've never been physical with anyone other than my wife, I've certainly entertained countless hours of homosexual fantasies within my mind's eye - particularly as a younger man.  So as you might imagine, intense sodomy dreams absolutely put me back into that wretched bathroom stall, leaving me feeling exposed and very, very deviant.

In closing, I've often wondered if some dreams are simply construed within our heads to harass and humiliate us.  Satan is described Biblically as the accuser, constantly throwing our sin / shame back into our faces in order to usher us towards a defeated state.  And man, is he ever adept at doing just that.  How much influence, I wonder, might he have over our subconscious mind while we sleep?

Here's to a good night's sleep tonight.

Privately (& Gleefully) Tethered To The Lovers Of Your Youth

In the past, I distinctly remember television personalities decrying that a man's sexual fantasy life was absolutely normal, healthy, and expected to exist - whether they're single, married, divorced, or whatever.  And it is declarations like these that serve as one of the many reasons I choose to avoid television.  I have heard some of the most asinine statements via that particular entertainment medium.  I am of the opinion that television personalities are mostly articulate idiots who happen to look great on TV. 

I believe the reason this statement is repeatedly made within our culture is twofold:

1.  Men who nurture a sexual fantasy life do so for very specific emotional reasons, and these reasons are tied into that man's internal value (or lack thereof).  Hence, it can seemingly become critically important to nurture these despite their toxicity.

2.  Runaway sexual fantasy lives tend to leave their stations while a man is in his youth.  And as we all know, any private sin-laden activity that's rooted in one's youth is typically very hard to break away from as an adult.  It's like learning to ride a bike as a child and then being asked to unlearn it much farther down the road.

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 A history of fornication can play a role in truly gumming up the works for Christian men who're in bondage to sexual fantasy lives.  Obviously, for a man to have participated in fornication, he had to have been sexually attractive enough to woo his lover into bed, and from there, perhaps, be gratified with a partner whom authenticated his efforts by responding with zeal.

"You're a fantastic lover."

"You know exactly how to turn me on."

"You are incredibly good in bed."

"I can't stop thinking about our time together making love."

Sound familiar?

It translates over well, does it not, into sexual fantasy.

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Marriage is hard, and the marriage bed will rarely ever be any sort of basis for a man's sexual fantasy life.  It's too unpredictable, and no man typically chooses to imagine his wife, of all people, behaving like some female whore robot on steroids.

That's such a hard truth, but nonetheless, it is truth.

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My sexual fantasy life took root as I was firstly entering into adolescence, and the basis for it was my deep seated sense of worthlessness as it pertained to my sense of masculinity.  My sexual fantasies were all about being pursued and ultimately seduced by my imaginary lovers.  And man, were these fantasies spectacularly pleasurable to promulgate within my head(s)!

Eventually though, after many years of choosing to avoid these imaginary lovers (sometimes being victorious, sometime not), I was released.  And in so many ways, it was not unlike growing up for I never truly felt like a grown up 'till this occurred.

I'm not of the opinion that sexual fantasy is ever justifiable.  The Bible is clear about what we're to think upon, and sexual fantasies simply didn't make the cut.

In closing, for men who've spent a lot of time nurturing sexual relationships whilst dating (or otherwise):  take the time to self-examine these salacious memories, parsing through them with a fine tooth comb.   I believe this is an exercise that's helpful to debunk / dissuade the "right-side" of one's brain via the "left-side's" good work.  If anything, it can serves as a starting point towards manhood.

"It is my goal to be the fittest man in the room." [Enamored by one's own awesomeness]

Pride is what God hates most.  It makes a man unusable to Him.  Pride / arrogance can grow out of man's need for respect if he allows his identity to be shaped intrinsically by what he excels at / what ranks him higher up the scale than his peers.

A few years ago, I met an Italian man who was close to my age who was originally from Iowa, at the time living in Birmingham, Alabama by way of Houston, Texas.  Of course, his name was Anthony (as all Italian men are).

He and I became fast friends because he was desperate for a friend (literally).  We had lunch one day here in Jackson, and he asked me the following question, "How do you make friends?".

I'd never been asked this before, and boy, was I intrigued at where this particular query originated from.

Anthony eventually moved back to Houston, Texas after a short stint here in the deep South.  He's unfortunately been out of my life for some time now.

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Many of you who read my writings here know some or all of my story.  Suffice to say, I typically utilize a handful of small, everyday objects as visual aids whilst sharing Rob's tale.  One of those objects, as of late, is a broken (shattered) hand mirror.  That broken mirror represents "The Void" as I've dubbed it, which is what I see when I look back at myself in order to compare who I am within the company of other men.

I argue that most men have a mirror that's not broken as mine is, therefore they're quite capable of taking stock of their own self, and this mirror is what men use as they learn to respect themselves either outside of or within some semblance of male community depending on their circumstances.

Sans a working mirror, men like myself can spend way too much time fixated on other men.  Again, for those of you who know my story, you likely can see where this can lead.  But too, the reverse can happen when a man becomes fixated on his own reflection.

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A hand mirror is a helpful tool for a man, but it's certainly not meant to be used more often than not.  Otherwise, that's when pride can begin to set in.

Anthony eventually shared most of his story with me.  The gist of it had to do with him being reared in rural Iowa within a poor family as an overweight kid.  He was keenly aware of his body fat because of his mirror.  In fact, like many overweight children, (if I remember correctly), he would "camouflage" his build by wearing coats all the time.  In college, he dropped the weight prior to taking a long, hard look in his mirror, and man, did he ever like what he'd become!

When I met Anthony, he was enduring military style exercise routines most days (in his basement), and he weighed himself immediately following.  These routines he followed online, or he'd purchase DVDs that he would screen over and over again.  This same routine had been going on for years and years.  He didn't like gyms as he couldn't as easily follow his "Muscle Insanity" (or whatever it was called) routine nearly as easily, therefore instead, he'd isolate himself in his basement night after night after night.

Needless to say, Anthony didn't look like your typical Deep South man.  Not at all.  As anyone who's from here knows, most middle-aged men from the South don't look their best in their underwear.  Anthony, it was obvious to me, would have looked fantastic in nothing but his underwear.  He was just that fit.  Minimal body fat, olive skin, ripped, refined, chiseled.  He was all of that, and he knew it.  How his early 40s body endured the endless 24-hour cycle abuse he'd put it through, I'll never know.

I challenged Anthony repeatedly to throw out his bathroom scale, but he wouldn't do it.  I told him to throttle back on the exercise regimens, but he'd simply respond by saying he'd consider doing so a month or so into the future.

Anthony loved his reflection too much to ever consider any of this.

One day, he disclosed to me that his goal was to always be the "fittest man in the room".

Why?

To command respect of the inner Anthony.  The one who likely still sees an overweight, jacket-weighing boy.

It was like a battle was ongoing within my Italian friend, and what to him felt like justifiable victory, was only fueling pride as he spent more and more time trying to outrun his past self versus making some semblance of peace with it.

When Anthony asked me that question during our lunch, "How do you make friends?, I couldn't help but mention Samson Society.  I remember explaining to him how it had impacted my life tremendously.  He even agreed to attend a Samson meeting with me if it happened to work with his travel schedule.

Unfortunately, it never did.

Eventually too, I shared my story with Anthony, and it didn't faze him.

It wasn't all that long ago that men like Anthony didn't exist, but today, I see it more and more.  I remember reading The Adonis Complex many years ago and being intrigued.

In closing, and in an attempt to circle back to my original statement on pride, I took a serious blow to my pride in 2013 due to a unexpected job loss.  The position fit me well on the surface, but personally / spiritually, it proved to be a nightmare.  Despite my skillset / credentials being well utilized, no amount of professional mobility could override the intense shame I was experiencing internally.  That shame was rooted in personal struggles which extended as far back as puberty, and it only continued to grow more and more sizable with each passing month within that weirdly unresolvable setting.  I was one year into my tenure there when it all came to abrupt end.  I've touched on that part of my story here.  What I learned from that experience is that I would never have obtained the faith I have today had it not been borne out of my healing from that particular trauma.  Losing that job, at least in as far as how it was handled (between me and my superiors), felt as if I'd been raped and subsequently impregnated with a massive sense of worthlessness.  That experience resulted in PTSD taking root, which I dealt with for +/-18 months.  I've never walked through anything more debilitating.  Therefore, I celebrate each day that I can look back and thank God for healing my mind of such damage, knowing full well that I will be forever indebted to him for that miracle.  Many men never fully recover their hearts from such trauma.

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Beware of staring too long into your mirror (if you're lucky enough to have one that's unbroken), and if you're the kind of guy who has a problem with this, simply force yourself to put it down in order to replace it with a Bible.  I recommend starting with the book of James (Jesus' brother).

Alive to Sin, Dead to Christ / Dead to Sin, Alive to Christ!

Our culture never, ever mentions the "s" word.  That being sin.  And this is because it's instantly connotative with religion.  But, everyone within the human race knows evil exists, therefore they know there's a standard for perfection that's centered in goodness and love which opposes evil (sin).

But still, utilizing the "s" word makes it all so personal and specific, and that's what's simply too uncomfortable for most.

Sin, oftentimes, promotes comfort.  There's a self-serving there that falls perfectly in line with our culture of individuality, free enterprise, and customization of everything under the sun.  Therefore, it looks absolutely worthwhile to dabble in - at least on occasion.  So long as it's not illegal, right?

But then there's the whole notion of consequences that one must deal with after the fact.  Those being guilt, shame, mistrust.  All these things that are birthed out of the comfort of sinful behavior / thoughts.

Christians are called to not only look different in terms of their behavior but to do so in spite of the discomfort that may come henceforth.  Jesus was specific when he spoke to man's priorities as a follower, and he rounded it all off with the truth that it's man's "heart tuning" that truly matters to God.

In other words, God is pleased with men who's hearts are fully aligned towards him due to spiritual rebirth and ongoing sanctification.  Sanctification which works to regenerate man's heart towards goodness and love, thereby strengthening his God / others-centeredness all the while.

It's teaching him through faith (imbued by God) to find comfort and satisfaction in God himself, therefore sin clearly becomes something to contend with instead of something to settle into.

I would argue that most men need help once they reach this point - at whatever age they may be.  The point of contending with sin is where the real struggle lies.  Samson Society is here to help.  We're not heavy on doctrine here (we rely on the church for that).  What we are about is authentic community that's focused on contention.  That ongoing, never ending wrestling with both sin and sinful desires that no man should have to face on his own.

Escape! vs Stand your ground!

On the cusp of each new iteration of photographic entertainment - delivery, formatting, etc. is sexualized imagery.  This is so because we want it served up within a socially acceptable (normalized, convenient, customizable) delivery method in light of the fact that we know it instinctively to be wrong, and we are always enthralled with novelty (the new thang).

Lust is wrong; human beings don't go into heat like animals.  But when we lust, it offers a tantalizing escape (high) from our present circumstances - whatever those may be.  Salacious photographic entertainment is the drive thru of lust.  Acceptable and convenient.  It's an escape on steroids.

Drive-thrus are stupid (stupid is a verb) when you put some thought into what they represent for us as a people, but restaurants install them because they'll just about do anything (normalized, convenient, customizable) to fatten their wallets.  Food designed to be consumed whilst driving is socially acceptable but ridiculously contradicting to what food truly represents for us as human beings.

Escape!  Escape!  Escape!

I would argue that food from drive thrus is not unlike eating packaged animal feed.  Animals are supposed to eat what God intended for them to eat in lieu of manufactured pellets.  Humans are meant to escape and enjoy sexuality but only when it's rightly executed within the marriage bed.  As I said earlier, it's wrong to lust.  We all know these things.  It's just common sense.  We are not animals.

Ask yourself:  Are your present circumstances really so that you're willing to fall prey to normalized societal stupidity by escaping into photographic lust?  Even though you know intrinsically that it's wrong?

Would you eat some deliciously manufactured Alpo just because you're hungry, it's convenient, and it's the red-blooded male right of passage?

Firstly, look hard at what you're circumstances are if you do decide to repent, and from there, align yourself with other men who can assist you in resisting what you've always known was wrong (despite being acceptable to society) but never had the will (or desire) to walk away from.

It is very hard to adjudicate salacious photographic entertainment for what it really is, but especially so under certain individual circumstances.  Therefore, remember to give yourself a break, if need be.

May we all become nauseated at the smell of Alpo and ever suspect of those who manufacture and package it out of respect for what we know and choose to live out rightly.

Stand your ground!  Stand your ground!  Stand your ground!

"What will people think?"

Realistically speaking, they're not going to spend any length of time sizing up your situation because, like yourself, they spend 99.9% of their time consumed with themselves.

Therefore, go ahead and invest in your passions, speak up about the hard subject matters, pursue unrealistic milestones, and involve yourself with people that you'll likely never truly become completely comfortable with.

The Enemy's lie is that your value / security is somehow vested in others' opinion of you.  That's ridiculous.  Your value is in Christ through his atonement and grace, but too, your primary focus as a Christian should be on the value you place on God himself and your knowledge / faith in him.

If you must be concerned with what someone thinks of you, consider being obedient to God, and pray that everyone around will follow suit...if they do choose to notice you.

Paying homage to our mutual Enemy

Evil exists in our world.  Anyone can attest to that fact, but as Christians, we attribute the author of it all to Satan.

The Bible is clear regarding what Satan's motives are as well as where exactly he rules.

For me, looking back on my life, I can see clearly evil handiwork.  Even as a small child, I can remember being cognizant of fear that was rooted in something much larger than myself.  This something was hidden away, waiting for an opportune time to strike.

All of the emotional trauma (& by God's grace mine is much less than many other's) that I've endured over my 46 years finds its root within this darkness.

No amount of Hollywood entertainment can equivocally represent the personal suffering that mankind endures at Satan's behest.  Not to mention the temptation he consistently elicits.

For me personally, I have a grudge against this being, and as a Christian, I'm looking forward to witnessing his demise.

In the meantime, all of the Metro Jackson facilitators of Samson Society serve you in light of that coming day.  May we all huddle together as men, supporting each other through the storm, within Samson Society.