Denying Yourself & Making Faithfulness (To Christ) Your Highest Priority

Losing my campus architect job from Delta State University proved devastating to me emotionally.  For it was an environment I found challenging, energetic and perfectly suited for someone of my professional skillset (plus it was my dad's alma mater).  I cannot overstate here how satisfied I was with this administrative position.  It was September of 2013 when the termination occurred, right around this time of year (late summer transitioning into early fall).  Though I'd only been employed there for one year, I'd spent countless hours of overtime (mostly weekends) shoring up the position of Campus Architect (at the expense of my family / personal life), all of which had resulted in some needed stability / restored confidence within the Physical Plant. 

Post termination (the following day), I immediately took the necessary steps to become an employee of my parents' Jackson, Mississippi business.  The work I'd be doing there wasn't at all of interest to me nor was I trained therein (I pursued a degree in architecture in college in order to eventually become registered as such).  Too, I knew going in that working for them would result in me feeling washed up, settled, and emasculated (which it did).  Spelled out as F-A-I-L-U-R-E.  

The devastation was centered on how obvious it quickly became that I was not at all well-suited working on a college campus, particularly within a Physical Plant setting.  Why?  As an intensely (at the time) same-sex attracted 40-year-old man, I was overwhelmed with the testosterone / muscled masculinity that was constantly on display for me to interact with.  And, to make matters that much more challenging, all these men wore athletically cut, short-sleeved uniforms that accentuated these glorious physical attributes.  And I cannot underestimate that word:  glorious.  Damn, it was fucking glorious.  Not unlike working on a gay porn film set each and every day.  

Yet, in the midst of all this, I had zero support relative to my story.  Even though I'd shared it in so many words with our pastor / associate pastor (whilst also pointing them to my personal blog).  They proved to be no help at all to me personally.  And I did even reach a point of directly asking for help.  

Taking all this into account, it was no doubt an unworkable situation.  Rob was completely isolated and far from home.  All the while, feeling SO MUCH shame relative to his sexual orientation.

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Imagine being Samus Aran but not fitting at all comfortably (due to the size of your frame) into your varia suit.  No matter how hard you'd tried.  Therefore, you attempt to bounty hunt sans suit, but you keep getting your ass kicked.  Plus, you're unable to morph into that cool morph ball which therefore limits your mobility.  

As such, you're disqualified.  No more bounty hunting.  Not without the varia suit.  It is an integral part of your work.

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At age thirteen, whilst being lassoed in by the gospel, I knew denial of myself would be an absolute.  And at this age, I actually gravitated towards this mindset for I found zero value within Rob.  Not to mention I was scared shitless of landing in hell for my propensity (even at this tender age) to lust. Immediately, Jesus made sense as both a savior and guide, and I understood my need for both.  

There was no one to confide in during my teen years relative to my sexuality.  In tandem with that was how emotionally starved I was both at home and platonically.  Therefore, "rescue" came via lustful sexual fantasies, all of which were homosexual in nature.  Often, these fantasies involved men / older boys that were within my sphere of influence (school / work / church).  They pursued Rob with a vengeance within these fantasies, and in many ways, it served as a temporary suave to my hurting / lonely heart (which was always left behind with biting guilt).  

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One thing I'm most proud of relative to my position at Delta State University was my choosing to not entertain sexual fantasies around any of the hot men that worked under me.  As such, this put me in quite the private pressure-valve situation.  For I didn't want to use them, but at the same time, I was exceedingly sexual attracted to a number of them. 

And this is where oversharing on my personal blog came in handy along with consuming gay porn (all executed on my work desktop PC, thereby breaking the university's IT policy).  For it provided some temporary emotional relief.

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After my initial +/-3 years of being involved in the Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society group (August 2014 - May 2017), the Holy Spirit clearly punctuated my love for men by dubbing me a "men's minister".  This happened immediately following a retreat that Mr. Don Waller had organized for our (then singular) group in beautiful Highlands, NC.  I'll likely never forget the day this occurred.  It was a rainy weekday afternoon while both of my 'rents were out of the office.

This title wasn't something that felt earned.  Instead, it seemed (at the time) so much more prophetic in nature than anything else.  And it truly was, though even today, all these years later, I in no way feel I've "risen" to that mantel.  

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My experience at Delta State University was perfectly orchestrated by God to prepare me for what's been set within my line of sight today as a "men's minister" (whatever that means).  For I know firsthand what it is to experience devastation via the realization that you're not qualified to pursue what, by the numbers / book, looks to be a perfect fit for you (taking your credentials, experience, availability into account).  

Being a same-sex attracted man has crippled me.  There's no doubt about it.  It has, in many ways, robbed me of (vocational) glory I've longed to be identified by.  But, none of this is overly surprising to Rob, especially whilst looking back.

What is mind-blowing is how tenderly God's nurtured me through all this fallout.  He's been consistent in his love as each month propels me further and further away from what went down in September 2013.

Thanks be to God for his goodness and mercy, and thanks too for the Jackson Mississippi Samson Society and its role in launching me into this community of men.   

Those Wounds Are No More

Earlier this year, I was appointed to serve on a volunteer board for a local nonprofit.  All of our active board members (6 individuals) had to take part in some overarching (annual) training yesterday, (4/29), and that training grouped us together with a number of other "affiliate (localized - statewide) boards" that duly represent this national org throughout the Magnolia State.

The training was most of the day, starting around 8 AM at a local community college's workforce training center, and overall, there were around 50 volunteers present, representing most regions of Mississippi.

Within the first minute or two of finding my seat, I realized the former Human Resources Director from Delta State University (the institution I was terminated from in September of 2013 for breaking their IT policy) had also sat down.  Her table was at a 90-degree angle to my own, therefore I was literally within her direct line of sight.  No doubt she was there representing the Cleveland, MS affiliate as a volunteer board member herself.

I hadn't seen this woman but for just a few short minutes since my termination, and that was in 2015, therefore A LOT of water had passed under the bridge since then.

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This past Thursday, (4/28) during my weekly "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson Society meeting, an old friend (I met him at Lakeside Pres in '09) also attended.  Having never had anyone else from Mississippi join this virtual group, it was so cool having him there.  Especially considering his abode is only +/-3 miles from my own here in Rankin County (where he too was Zooming in).

Mr. Justin Schwind, "Make Thursdays Great Again" facilitator, made my invited friend feel welcome, and as usual, it was a great Samson Society meeting (+/-25 attendees) with the word being "false self".

What's really special about this is me, taking into account how long I've sang the praises of Samson Society to this friend, is now seeing both his schedule (allowing him to participate) and desire coalescence.

Too, this man was the first parishioner at Lakeside Presbyterian Church that I told my story to.  And as a result, he didn't shun me.  In fact, the opposite actually occurred which was very unexpected at the time.

As such, for many years, he and I would make a point to supplement our time together at church with a lunch or two, on occasion, but after the Turners' return from Cleveland, MS (immediately following my termination in 2013), I found that his life circumstances had ratcheted up considerably.  That combined with my shame over what had gone down in the immediate past, made for an easy series of excuses to leave him be.

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I immediately rose from my seat and made my way over to my former Delta State University colleague.  Today, this woman is in her mid to late 60s, and as I was doing so, I remembered sending her an apology letter (not long after my termination and subsequent return to the Jackson Metro) where I revealed how intimidating she was to Rob.

Yesterday morning, she wasn't intimidating in the least.  In fact, she actually looked really tired.  Almost to the point of concern.  

It took her a few seconds to recognize me (my stick-on name tag helped) before she cracked her stock wry smile.  We spoke our pleasantries, and then I returned to my seat, nary a blip in increased blood pressure.  

Surprisingly, I didn't think one additional thought about her from that point forward.  

Throughout the all-day training class, with her sitting just a few feet from me, it was as if we'd almost never worked together during that very challenging year of my life.

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After the "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson Society meeting concluded (around 8 PM CST), I sent my old Mississippi friend a few follow-up text messages before signing off for the evening.

And just a quick sidenote:  Earlier this week, I was really missing some of the face-to-face Samson guy interactions I've had conveniently available to me in the past.  As such, I felt God speak into my life regarding this, reminding me to trust him with it completely.

Of course, I have to wonder where all of this is leading with my newly reconnected Mississippi friend.  Will he take to Samson Society as I did - long-term?  Is the timing truly right for him to in this regard?  What about our friendship?  Will it blossom further, for such a time as this?  

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Having had the powerfully humbling experience I had Friday with my former colleague from DSU, I wouldn't be able to doubt God with my decried needs (nor my aforementioned questions) even if I tried.

It is remarkable how closely our God knows our true self, mediates for us, heals us.

My faith continues to grow as he demonstrates his hands-on care for Rob.  His love for me is more real than it's ever been, and I can only have expectant hope for more to come.

Bad / Poor Mouthing

Bad / poor mouthing is the practice of tearing others down behind their backs.  It's usually executed amongst a triangulated peer group - friends, family, co-workers, and it's done because we all feel - at times - entitled to do so.  

Entitled means "believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment."

Arrogance is what fuels feeling entitled.  Arrogance means "the quality of being arrogant."

Arrogant means "having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one's own importance or abilities."

Exaggerate means "represent (something) as being larger, better, or worse than it really is."

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Individuals who poor mouth should be wary of not experiencing one distinct side effect:  guilt.  Usually it's immediate for it doesn't take but a split second to hear one's own callousness.

If you're one of the fortunate ones subjected to these reactionary pangs, be thankful (whilst heeding them).  For that's your conscience doing its good work on your behalf.  

From there, drop to your knees and thank God that you still have a conscience that's properly calibrated and functional.

If you're one of those whose innards stay silent immediately following bad / poor mouthing, please make a point to read (& commit to memory) James 3 as soon as possible.

And just so you know, James was the brother of Jesus.  That makes his words that much more relevant.

Lagniappe

Focus On The Dignity Shown You

As Christian men, we really can't think / quantify / qualify our sin enough.  There should never be a concluding statement or last chapter.  Qualifying our sin is like shaving.  It's procedural and ongoing.  And I would argue, for every man, it should be important enough to do regularly.

As a sidenote, I like to grow my stubble out for 3-5 days before shaving it clean off, loving that baby's bottom smoothness throughout my face / neck which results.  

We can't see our God's faithfulness unless we do this.  And to be more exact, we can't see God's dignified faithfulness unless we do this.  

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A good father treats his children with dignity.  That's just a given.  God also personifies this behavior as our heavenly father.  And he does this despite him knowing exactly who we are, warts and all.  

In contrast to this is our relationship with our own (biological) father's finite knowledge / understanding of us.   

My children (particularly my oldest two) intentionally stay at arms length from me most of the time.  They're budding young adults, and as such, I must respect their need for "wriggle room" (privacy).  Nonetheless, I do keep a close eye and work to be intentional about fathering them well.  And as such, I do not shy away from disclosing my personal regrets relative to my own sinful behavior when I feel so moved / am prompted by the Holy Spirit.  

As God's children, we're 100% in his view.  His eye is fixed on us 24/7/365.  And as such, he sees our hearts.  Yet he doesn't reject nor disqualify us.  And shaming us is impossible.  As our God, none of those things compute with his purpose (to redeem us).

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Be encouraged today to recommit to the work involved in best understanding yourself, and whilst doing so, inhale the truth of how much dignity your heavenly father has shown you despite his omniscience.  Dignity is personalized care that demonstrates love to its fullest. 

Remember, beards are overrated.  Go ahead and expose that flesh.  Air it out.  Show it off.  And enjoy that baby bottom smoothness.

The Great Misunderstanding / Understanding Your Relevancy As A Christian

Despite you yourself, God is working in and through you as a Christian at all times.  He is sovereign, therefore he doesn't need anything more than your faithfulness to get his will accomplished.  And keep in mind that "your faithfulness" is a gift from God himself.

Circumstances within relationships can at times sour.  Suffering too is inevitable.  Nonetheless, as a Christian, being within these trials with whomever (spouse, friends, parents, siblings, etc.) is merited simply by definition of whose you are.

Do you grasp that today?

If so, you should never falsely accuse yourself (or listen to the Accuser himself) relative to the lie that your very presence situationally tipped the scales pejoratively within God's eyes.  That lie is a paradox in an of itself because of the Biblical truth within the first sentence of this post.

Be mindful of voices within your head that state the following:

    -  "She would no doubt be better off without me as her husband."

    -  "This company / volunteer organization would have succeeded / would succeed further had it not /         were it not for my presence here."

    -  "This friendship was doomed from the getgo due to me being one half of the whole."

    -  "My presence here caused all manner of problems and defeats."

Christians carry God's spirit within them.  We are salt and light within this world of woe.  By definition, our very presence consistently makes a righteous impact despite what we may believe of ourselves otherwise.  Focus on that truth today.

Lagniappe

Just How Internally Influential Is Your Perception of Other People's Perception, & Should Christian Men Demarcate Themselves By Said Internal Influence?

This is the worst post title.  I'm sorry for that.

So what is perception, and what is influence, and are the two interrelated?

To answer the last question, they are interrelated because both perception and influence are arbitrary.  Neither can be measured or proven despite their ubiquity, therefore by cultural definition, they're both readily available for our Enemy* to use against us.  And he especially tends to do so when we're young and naive.  From there, precedents can be set which unhealthily carry forward into manhood.

This Desiring God post needs to be read next.  Take a few minutes, and then report back.  I love Mr. Mathis' point, serving beautifully as a frame of reference here.

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I work for my father.  Now, every time I say this (whilst around him), he chimes in by saying that isn't the case.  Instead, he likes to frame my position in his company as "partner" or "independent advisor" or somesuch, but that simply isn't true.  I'm an employee of his who fortunately has an awful lot of independence relative to whom I serve as an advisor / broker.

My father has expectations for me as his employee (as does every employer), and when he's so moved, he'll remind me of those by letting me know how disappointed in me he truly is.  This is his modus operandi and has been throughout my life.  He experienced the same within his own upbringing in no thanks to his now deceased, virago mother.

And he does this mostly with some degree of subtleness (passive agressiveness), but at times, after I've ignored him outright for a lengthy period of time, he explodes on me.  

When I first came to work for him, a few of these explosive episodes indirectly involved my mother (who also works alongside us) simply due to her being within the line of fire.  And it was not pretty, based on what she described to me. 

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During my younger years, I avoided my father like the plague because I didn't know how to manage his low-grade anger and impulsive disappointment as I do today.  How I perceived being perceived by him was simply too much to bear.  I had no siblings, therefore my dad was the archetype male within my life that I saw day in and day out.  Therefore that made him super influential, whether I liked it or not.  By God's grace, I picked up on this familial toxicity early on which helped tremendously as I navigated through my young adult years.

Hence, I actively replaced my dad via fantasies, and within these (sexual) fantasies were men who did approve of me.  My imagination was my greatest ally during my childhood due to the fact that I desperately needed an older male within my life who affirmed me through and through.  It was circumstantially bittersweet for me indeed.

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As adult men, we must differentiate ourselves from our boyhood selves by really staying on top of this arbitrary concept called perception, and the negative influence it can gain over us.  And undoubtedly, as Christians, we absolutely must not become spiritless automotons who fall in line with groupthink.  Groupthink, I would argue, oftentimes originates in and through perception which in turn lays groundwork for influence.   

Therefore, in closing, who ultimately do we answer to, and what exactly is our end goal?

As Christian men, we answer to our Heavenly Father, and his end goal for us is our faithfulness (which he provides to us).  How do we gauge where we stand regarding these?  

-  Listen & observe your mature Christian peers relative to how they relate to you.  What do they say / are they saying?

-  Listen to God's spirit that lives within you.  If you need him to turn up the volume there, ask for more spirit.

-  Read Scripture and ask for conviction, insight, and wisdom.

The more you do this, the more weight will be released from your shoulders as it relates to all the other.

* No doubt God can use perception and influence for his good as well.  I recognize that, but have chosen to not approach the subject from that angle.

My Hope In The Shadows

Sitting here at my computer and staring out the window, I ponder how it is an unusually overcast and gloomy day for late March. Outside, the wind blows noisily through the trees, stirring up a chill that permeates the spring air and causes me to release an involuntary shiver from within. Belatedly, I realize that I have left the bedroom window cracked open, and now the whistling wind rushing through has brought with it a coldness that begins to fill the room.

Oftentimes when I become distracted, my mind tends to drift away and carry me to a faraway place somewhere in my past. Although there are quite a few moments in my past that I repressed for many years, there are still many that I remember quite fondly. It is these moments that come flooding back during idle daydreams, bringing a warm touch to fill my being. Indeed, they bring a smile to my face as I vicariously relive them through my memory. The gloomy chill that fills the air on this cold Saturday slowly gives way to a warm summery day as I sit and let my mind carry me to another time.

I often like to tell people that as a child and adolescent of the 80s and 90s, I grew up in a world that was simultaneously analog and digital. As a kid growing up in rural Mississippi in the late 80s and early 90s, electronic objects to occupy our time were far and few in between; in fact, they were virtually non-existent in my household. As a result, my younger brother and I were often left to our own devices in the summertime, and it was up to us to create our own forms of entertainment. Although we grew up in a small rural town and lived part of those years in the remote countryside, I do not recall us ever being bored. Whether it was having mud-track races behind the shed with our toy cars, fishing in the pond, or zipping through the pasture in our two-seater go-cart in search of our next adventure, we were never bored. One of our favorite pastimes, and a real summertime treat to us, was going to one of three local creeks for an adventure day. Within the wide banks of these creeks, the noisy waters flowed swiftly and created a wonderful backdrop for many summertime adventures. My brother and I were both accomplished swimmers, and the creeks were not big enough to ever permit fear of drowning to enter our minds. 
      Our favorite creek was the beautiful White Sand Creek just down the road from our home. We could literally walk to it from our house and for two young Mississippi boys, it might as well have been heaven. This magical place was the setting for many a summer adventure; in this place, the waters flowed swift and clear, and the beautiful white sand bars felt like a fiery powder under our feet as we ran across them chasing each other. We spent our time alternately splashing around in the water and then searching for treasures such as pieces of driftwood or unusual rocks that we would find lining the banks of the creek. We delighted in digging crawdads out of their holes. If we were lucky, we might spot a frog or perhaps a turtle or two sunning itself on a log. Attempts to catch the turtles were usually futile, as the elusive reptiles seemed to have an inherent sense of our presence and jump into the water before we could reach them. There were times when we would engage in games of hide and seek as we hid in the bushes that lined one bank of the creek. Other times we would float on our backs and see how far the current would carry us downstream before mother began to holler at us and tell us to come back. Sometimes, we would simply sit at the water’s edge in a shallow pool of water and watch the water as it ebbed and flowed around our bodies. We had moments where we would roughhouse, as young brothers are often apt to do, taking turns dunking each other in the water. I remember sometimes just simply sitting there on the banks of the creek, basking in the warm summer sun as I watched the waters flow by.

Even as a kid, I had a very active imagination, and I was often prone to daydreaming (which sometimes happened at the most inopportune times such as during lessons at school). One day, I noticed how at times, the clouds would cross the sun's path, creating dancing shadows that would dart across the landscape. On one side of the creek, was a large forest that seemed scary to my young self. It was filled with bushes and giant hardwood trees that towered as high as the heavens. On the other side of the creek was a broad meadow of Technicolor green filled with cows who would briefly pause their grazing to look up and watch us as we swam in the creek. I loved to watch the shadows move across the meadow, and I took notice of the various shapes and patterns they would make. Sometimes, the clouds would come and the shadows would stay in place, signaling an impending summer storm looming on the horizon. When the clouds covered the landscape, they brought with them, temporary relief from the blazing summer sun. The air would get cooler, and the swiftly flowing waters would for a moment in time, seem darker and scarier. The cool waters that we had played in only moments before suddenly became a bottomless pit of eternal inky depths. Eventually, the clouds would part and I would turn my face to the sky, embracing the return of the sun’s warmth. 

Young Pip, following Estella in Great Expectations (1946)

Life is full of light and shadows. Ever since those early days of my childhood, I have been continually fascinated with the shapes, sizes, and movements of shadows. Sometimes, when the opportunity presents itself, I enjoy sitting outside as I watch the shadows dance their perfectly choreographed dance routine, dancing and fading in and out, synchronized to a mysterious number known only to nature. Part of this fascination is what led me to write a Master’s thesis on David Lean’s use of light and shadow in his film adaptations of Dickens’ Great Expectations (1946) and Oliver Twist (1948). One of my all-time favorite books is Great Expectations and Lean’s ending deviated significantly from that of Dickens’; this was done in order to give viewers a happier ending. In Lean’s adaptation, Pip rushes into the interior of a ruined mansion to rescue his childhood sweetheart, Estella. In this ruined place, Estella sits in the darkness surrounded by objects in various states of decay. In what I believe is one of the most memorable moments in post-World War II British cinematography, Pip rushes into the room, yanks down the rotted draperies and throws open the windows. He shouts out to Estella, “I have come back to let in the sunlight…. Look, Estella, nothing here but dust and decay!” Pip was aware that nothing can live or thrive in the darkness of night. As he threw open the windows to let in the sunlight, he symbolically saved Estella from the shadows that cloaked her life.

I have come to let in the light, Estella!

Sometimes in our own lives, shadows come and cast darkness over every aspect of our lives. Sometimes, these shadows are only temporary, and they quickly pass by as they did across the pastoral landscape on those long-ago summer days. Other times, the shadows come, sink in, and begin to weave themselves into the tapestry of our lives. When this happens over a period of time, we may not even be aware of how faintly the diminished and filtered light illuminates our lives. Just a few short years after those summer days at the creek, I would begin to get lost in my own shadows. These shadows would follow me around for many years and would keep me from walking in the light that I so desperately needed to be walking in during my formative and adolescent years. I lost my way for a very long time. Finding the Samson Society nearly 5 ½ years ago marked the beginning of my being able to emerge from my own shadows. To be able to walk forward with boldness and courage in my life. To allow the light back into my life as I ripped down my own rotted draperies. To admit my great, and continual need for other men who would walk with me and keep me from making a wrong turn that would ultimately lead back into the shadows. Men who would also call me out and point me back to the cross of Christ.

We’re living in uncertain times right now. All we need do is turn on the news and we feel that there is a metaphorical shadow covering our world right now. We can’t let these shadows of doubt fill our lives and take root. In my own life, living in the shadows led to hopelessness and despair and could have very well been fatal. I don’t know what kind of things or repressed thoughts hide in your own shadows, but I do know that nothing can grow or thrive in that space. Fortunately, with Samson, we have the gift of a lifeline given to us; it is crucial that we continue walking alongside other brothers and with them, stand in the light that Christ gives us. It is so easy for me to retreat into my own shadows, and that place, my brothers, is a dangerous place for me to be. In the darkness, it is impossible to see the roadmap of where we are going, and it is so easy to take a wrong turn. We have hope in the shadows and the promise of light that shows us the way.

We recently learned a new song in church a few months ago. Our music director instructed us that when we sang the chorus, we should lift our hands up whenever we sang the words that proclaimed what Christ meant in our lives. And as I proclaimed the words “you’re my hope in the shadows…”, I gratefully lifted my hands in the air.

You’re MY HOPE in the shadows!

Some time ago, I was traveling on a day trip with my family and passed through the town of my childhood; this town is a place that I avoided for many years and no longer claim a connection to. And as we passed by the place where a part of me had remained lost in the shadows for many years, I caught a glimpse of my eleven-year-old self hidden where he had been left behind all those years ago. Silently, I called out to him…. “It’s going to be ok. It will take many years, but you will eventually be ok.” And for the most part, I am. The shadows still come, dancing their mysterious number across the landscape of my life before dissolving away. But today I have hope. I always have hope in the shadows. And you do too.

Many years later, my son looking down at White Sand Creek, circa 2018

Stephen Coleman is a member of the Samson Society and is a guest contributor to the Samson Society blog. 

Supernatural Presence Within

The Bible has a lot to say about the supernatural existing within human beings.  Sometimes it refers to evil in that regard, but mostly it places emphasis on holy.  Jesus as well as a number of the apostles are chronicled within God's word as having run ins with evil spirits who happened to be existing within human beings.  In the case of Jesus, a number of those evil spirits identified themselves upon encountering the Messiah via their natural host.  A few very awkward exchanges are recorded in Scripture due to this.  And there's no doubt that the "persuasion" of the evil spirit made quite the impact on its host relative to outlook on life, mood, but mainly his / her state of mind.  In other words, what the demonic spirit was feeling was amplified into the experience of its victim.

Jesus ascended into heaven, having spent 30 or so additional days on the Earth after his resurrection from the dead.  He stated that it would be better for him to exit than stay in order for the Holy Spirit to "relieve him" (my way of seeing it) here on Earth.

In all honesty, I've never put much thought into whom or why he said that 'till recently.  Therefore, what you're about to read is my take on an important foundational topic of Scripture from the point of view of a Reformed Christian.

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When I was lassoed in by the gospel at age 13, I have no doubt the Holy Spirit entered in.  I credit it's help with so many righteous decisions / periods of enduring suffering well, though I'll be the first to admit that I was far from perfect.  But what I've never considered is how God's spirit affects 47-year old Rob day to day as I go about living my life.  The Bible is clear that our bodies are vessels for God's spirit to "make itself home" within.  Therefore, this notion that post-conversion God's spirit might overstay its welcome, or simply cease to be present doesn't line up with Scripture.  In fact, it's more in line with the homeyness analogy which would be, as time advances, God's spirit only becomes that much more integrated within.

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When my wife became a mother to our first child, her identity as Angie changed.  It wasn't that she became someone else, but due to her birthing Caroline, it was as if another permanent point of view was put in place simultaneously.

Let me give you an example of this.

Angie detests being out in the heat because she physiologically reacts to it almost immediately by perspiring profusely.  Literally all over her body, within a matter of a few minutes, she looks as if she's been out in the scorching hot sun for over an hour.  When she was a student at Baylor (very hot fall semesters), she loathed having to walk across campus to class due to the inevitable perspiration on her face, in her hair, etc. that she'd have to cope with whilst walking and during her class.  And this issue has stigmatized her literally to the point of pretty much never walking outside the house unless it's less than 85 degrees F.  Interestingly enough, her father had this same physiological quirk, and I must say that I'm thankful it wasn't passed along to any of our 3 little sinners.

Our oldest daughter is a varsity dancer, therefore at every high school football game, she's there with the team, shaking her ass at the fans.  As part of this, there's tailgating and so forth that we as "dance team parents" are encouraged to be a part of.  Well, you dear reader already know how I feel at high school football games.

Inevitably, the first 4 or 5 games are played within quite uncomfortable climate conditions here within the Magnolia state, and this is especially true considering the tailgating food frenzy starts 90 minutes prior to kickoff.  And guess who's there despite the heat?  At each and every home game?  My sweet, profusely sweaty Angie.  And, of course, she's all smiles and in good spirits as the mother of Caroline.

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90 days after being terminated from my job at Delta State for breaking their Information Technology policy, I wasn't experiencing any emotional healing.  If anything was happening, I was actually becoming more despondent.  During the initial 30 days (this was about this time of year in 2013), I lost 14 pounds, slept no more than 3 to 4 hours a night, and experienced hopelessness like I'd never experienced in my life.  You would have thought that I'd lost a child or was going through a divorce had only the qualitative emotional suffering been taken into account.  Eventually, I soon discovered that I had developed PTSD due to the severity of the emotional trauma, therefore from there, I found myself on an 18 month collision course dealing with daily flashbacks of the termination and subsequent emotional fallout.

Leading up to that termination was a point of spiritual reckoning for me that I had no clue how to come to grips with.  Essentially, 3 months prior to that fateful day, I wrote a letter to our pastor at Covenant Presbyterian Church which specifically asked him for help with my continued struggle with sexual sin.  Well before that letter was penned (soon after we joined the congregation), he became privy to my former blog, The Architect's Garage, which detailed my entire struggle with homosexual desire, porn, my faith, and so forth.  Unfortunately, Pastor Tim only chose to respond to my aforementioned letter 5 weeks after I had handed it off to him.  But by then, it was much too late.  Not only had too much time passed for me to keep my needy outstretched hand open for him, but circumstantially, my vocational situation had only grown that much more difficult for me to cope with.

Therefore, there was a deep seated sense of personal and spiritual rejection and negligence here that went far beyond a simple job loss, and it rocked me (& God's spirit within me) to the very core of my being.  Hence, I believe, the fertile ground for suicidal thoughts and the horrific extenuating trauma brought on by PTSD.

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The Bible mentions "grieving God's spirit" a few times.  It also talks an awful lot about God's emotional state of mind (this is especially true with the Old Testament).  The former, to me, for such a time as this, has much to do with Rob being "impressed upon" by the latter.  To put it another way, God's spirit within me responds to my life circumstances, and from there, I experience His return that's therefore aligned with his emotional state of being.  Call it Heavenly Father empathy if you will.

Similarly, I believe God's spirit, that resides within Rob, positions itself towards certain individuals who are brought into my sphere of influence due to this same holy empathy.  And I've seen this occur even if I may not personally be drawn to those / that particular individual(s).  Upon discovering this, it has been hugely impressed upon my heart, therefore I think on it often.

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Lastly, how does this apply to Samson Society?

God's spirit within me draws me in or repels me from certain Samson guys depending on circumstance / need.  It also tempers my heart, allowing me to be far more patient / interested than Rob truly is or ever would be.

As most of you know, I love men.  But that doesn't apply to every one.  It can't.  But God's spirit within me is far greater and more interested than I ever could be.

It is such a privilege to be a vessel for God's Holy Spirit.  I'm a better man for it.  To God be the glory!

The undeniable truth is this:  Samson Society is built on God's spirit doing its good work in and through Samson guys as we support each other via relational accountability.

Be Transformed

None of us can change our friends, spouses, parents, neighbors, employers, siblings.  We have no bearing on their decisions or behavior, attitudes, or outlook.  Their opinion of us in general, our points of view, faith, etc. are their own.  We have no bearing there either.

This truth is a very frustrating one due to the fact that we live in a culture that prioritizes customization as well as the illusion of total life control.  Therefore, as consumers, we gravitate towards experiences that provide this by default.  Whether we're purchasing an automobile, a technological device, or a hamburger.

We want instantaneous gratification with exactly what we specify from our entertainment, recreational activities, even spiritual experiences.  And, who wouldn't?  It's such a conveniently luxurious paradigm to exist within.

Hence, these two work against each other, to the point that we begin to question why we're not seeing cross pollination occur between (which is ridiculous to consider, but often at times, how our brains operate).

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I want to encourage you to consider the following:

The more you invest personally in cultural catering / luxuries, conversely, the more you'll potentially become stupefied / confused relative to your relationships - whether they're corporate or individual 'till eventually you begin to equate expectationally (my word) one with the other.  Be mindful of that.  It's a very slippery slope that can wreak emotional havoc rather quickly.

Remember, we're sheep.  Sheep are stupid.  Stupid is a verb.  Many a divorce, premature job quitting, abandoned friendship, estranged family member, disappointment in church / charitable org stems from this unequivocal stance.  DO NOT FALL INTO THIS TRAP.  If you do, know this, you've been duped.

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Lastly, you also have little control over your own self as it relates to sin and your sin nature.  Disappointing but true.  In other words, it's going to get the best of you unless you become an adopted son of God, and even then, you're going to have to fight tooth and nail to be victorious over your flesh over the long-term.

And that truth leads me to eternity, a word / concept that's as ignored as the entire concept of sin is within our culture.

Eternity:  Afterlife.  Heaven.  Hell.  Man's soul living beyond his body.

Do you believe or think on this truth?  The Bible is built on this concept of life after death here on Earth.  If you happen to believe life ends at brain death, you might as well take your Bible and use it as a doorstop.

As children, we all certainly hoped for eternity by default.  That was ingrained in our DNA.  Ask any child about death, and you'll immediately see that it scares them (just as it should scare us).  They're keenly interested in believing that life doesn't simply stop there.  Jesus cited children's simple faith as an example of what man's faith should look like, and that story I'm reminded of here.

Do you believe in life after death?  Does it terrify you to consider eternity in hell for yourself and those I mentioned earlier (all those people you have no control over)?

Are you interested in allowing God to transform you into someone else, even as you continue to walk this Earth?  The Bible says that we can be transformed by the renewing of our minds.  What does that mean, and how might it occur?  Read Scripture.  It's detailed there.  The apostle Paul in particular, wrote an awful lot about this.

For me, there's much peace of mind that comes with knowing transformation is happening / active within my life, and that this process is God's alone to ordain / implement / execute.  I like resting in this truth.  Especially when I'm frustrated over the one I mentioned earlier.  Too, I rest similarly knowing I can pray for those whom I have no control over and trust that God's hand is / will be working within their lives as well - as he sees fit.

I want to experience heaven after death, but too, I similarly want to experience heaven now by taking part in the becoming of a new Rob each and every day.  There's joy there in seeing that occur as my flesh dies and my spirit matures.  All thanks to God's grace.  Let that be your / our only focus today.

How Rob Knows

Faith is a gift from God, and it's faith in the unseen that's provided circumstantial proof to Rob that God is working and readily available to me at all times.

If you live long enough, at some point, you're going to experience emotional trauma.  Usually it involves abrupt, "undeserved" loss.  I use the latter term because it's the resulting pain from that trauma that triggers that descriptor, and typically what follows is the question of "What did I do to deserve this?".

As human beings, we rarely, if ever, have enough faith.  Our sin-nature is constantly working to diminish this purest, rarest, most precious of resources.  If we were to encounter loss with the necessary faith, there would be no discontent grown out of self-pity due to the fact that there would be little to no self left at that point within us.  Therefore, with no self, there's no stupid questions like, "What did I do to deserve this?".

And this leads me to the next reveal which I'll also utilize to finish out this emotional trauma reference.

Being born again results in God's spirit inhabiting man.  This spirit works in and through him, bringing about a temperament / persona that's not his own.  The Bible refers to this as the "fruits of the spirit".  All of these fruits are contrasted wildly to our sin nature, therefore they can bring about behaviors and even entire life circumstances that promulgate the consistent thriving / growth of those around us.  It's a way of living life that runs counter to our culture's notion of "do whatever makes you happy, you happy, you happy, you happy."

These fruits combined form one Voltron-like-robot-being called obedience.

And it's that obedience that ultimately provides a path for us to be healed of our trauma.  Though the scars will never fade, the horrible pain and suffering from the trauma lessens and lessens 'till it's gone.

What does that process look like exactly?

It depends on the individual.  It may involve counsel, community, or none of those, though time for healing to occur is a given.  And when you step out on the other side of that valley, the miracle of healing deepens your faith all the more by molding you that much further into the created being God wishes you to be.  It's change that brings about contentment which in turn nourishes faith in that which is unseen.

Lagniappe