Jesus Loves Boobs

Northpark Mall in Ridgeland, MS was such the petri dish of maturation throughout my teenage years.  I spent hours upon hours there from ages 15-19 frying chicken at Chick-A-Fil on the second floor (right down from Dillard's).  The years were 1988-1991, and at that time, this particular MS mall was almost at its heyday.   

Spencer Gifts was downstairs from the Chick during this initial Northpark era, and this is where I began to discreetly obtain a collection of sexy greeting cards / calendars.  The photos therein were of muscular, handsome men posing / being photographed in order to capture / capitalize on their masculine beauty.  It was these photos that served as Rob's sexual fantasy reserve.  

Today, Spencer Gifts is located within an adjacent wing of Northpark Mall.  I was reminded of this Wednesday, (8/21) whilst walking down memory lane (& returning some clothes to Dillard's).  

On the Spencer Gifts' storefront was a T-shirt design that read "I Love Boobs!" (the word "Love" was a heart symbol).

I immediately was taken aback (which was the whole point of the display) for I couldn't imagine such a storefront during the late 1980s.  

But hey, this is 2024.

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When I run, I almost always wear a tank top.  I do this because it's a shirt that I wrestled mightily with wearing years prior.  Mucho shame had to be overcome.  But now, I find them to be my go-to for the gym, running. They're comfortable and a reminder of the importance of milestoning small victories.   

Our 'hood is filled with retirees, and they're out and about constantly walking their dogs.  One man (former runner) I encounter often (whilst exiting / re-entering our 'hood from a 5K run).  Years ago, I noticed how subtlety taken aback this mid 60s retiree reacts whenever I raise one of my arms (as if to scratch my head / wipe my eyes / point at a bird passing over) if and when we've paused to chat. For when I do this, he can't help but be exposed to / get a clear view of the defined / sculpted muscle mass within my shoulders / upper arms.  

My grandfather (dad's dad) died when my father was 9-years-old.  He was a chain smoker and was dead in his early 40s from lung cancer.  If you look at photos of the man, you can clearly see the broadness of his shoulders.  Bizarrely, he was +/-20 years younger than his oldest brother, therefore all of his siblings (he had three older brothers) looked more like grey-templed uncles than siblings.

As I began to strength train during my mid-30s (I'm in my early 50s today), I would have guys comment to me regarding my shoulders / upper arms and how muscular they were becoming.  I would immediately dismiss this affirmation on the surface, despite my knowing that it was absolutely in line with my Turner genetics.

My father's youngest brother (who was one of three of his brothers), being just one generation away from Joe Ware Turner, Sr. (my long since lung cancer deceased grandfather) absolutely received that same stocky upper-body build.  

And now there's me (along with one of my cousins).  

There's beauty there.  Plain & simple.  Not to everyone, mind you.  But certainly, to some.

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At Lakeside Pres, Pastor Tyson has been slowly marching us through the gospel of Matthew Sunday after Sunday after Sunday.  We're now close to wrapping it up, therefore he recently preached on Jesus being anointed via perfumed oil via his friendgirl Mary.  If you've never read the passage (chapter 26), I'd encourage you to do so.  

Never would a Protestant pastor insinuate the sensuousness of this tale, but if you read it from that point of view, it's undeniable.

Did Jesus appreciate the breasts of Mary as they brushed against him during this ritual?  Was his reaction therein what perpetuated the callous criticism of the whole affair?  Did he feel his cock getting erect as the liquid flowed from the alabaster flask?  

He had to have been so very pleased with himself for creating breasts to begin with as her bosom brushed his upper body throughout this whole scandalous / selfless affair.  

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(Some) Boobs really are beautiful.  

We've been so pleased to see a tenured couple recently returned to our church, and both have lost substantial weight whilst away.  As a result, the wife's breasts are decidedly smaller.

When they were members years prior, she'd often wear attire that "celebrated" her beautiful boobs.  I can remember on several occasions being stunned by her Sunday morning look.  

I knew her husband well enough to know that he was 100% onboard with her ecclesiastical seductiveness.

He maybe attended one or two Samson meetings overall (when I facilitated an in-person meeting there at the church).

It was eye opening to say the least.

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As Christian men who are looking for help with compulsive sexual sin, so many parachurch ministries decry:  "Look Away!  Look Away!  Look Away!"

I'm not so sure this is truly the most reliable long-term solution.  

Jesus loves boobs.  He created each pair with utmost attention to detail.  Can we not lean into his example by learning to appreciate sans capitulating to default lust?  

It's Been Ten Years Since I First Stepped Foot Into A Samson Society Meeting!

Over the past ten years, I've attended at least one Samson Society meeting a week.  August 2014 at First Baptist Church Jackson (Summit Counseling suite) was when that first meeting (involving Rob) occurred.  I had met with Mr. Don Waller (facilitator of said meeting) on one occasion, and from there, he ushered me into his group (which at the time was the only Samson Society meeting in Mississippi, as far as we knew).

There were +/-9 men in that first-for-Rob meeting, 3 of which (including me) struggled with same-sex attraction.  Having those two other brave men there meant the world to me.

I was in so much emotional pain due to my PTSD (fallout post job loss) that I would have taken any group referral, no matter how outlandish, seriously at that time.

Don was smart to not provide me with any preview of what Samson Society was.  Therefore, I walked in blind, with eyes wide open towards a ministry that seemed as approachable as all the others I'd been invited into (throughout my life).  For at that time, nothing could seemingly stop my emotional hemorrhaging.  I truly had lost all hope and therefore wasn't capable of trusting anyone.    

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As a same-sex attracted man, I can wholeheartedly say that what's kept me involved throughout these ten years has been my overall love for men.  That along with my servant spirit has allowed me to never grow tired / weary of this ministry.  

Regarding the latter, though that phrase, "servant spirit", may sound Titleist, what I'm referring to is my temperament.  In no way does it imply that I'm a "better Christian", more like Jesus or anything of the sort.  

I simply enjoy serving others.  Especially if those others have testicles dangling between their legs.  This makes me a type B personality which is unusual for Samson Society demographically.

As an aside, there are times when other men taunt me for executing kettlebell swings at the Y, citing my need to "wear a cup" (they do appear somewhat risky if they're executed correctly).  More often than not, I'll respond that I'm actually a eunuch.  That immediately shuts them up.

In many ways, I behave as a Biblical eunuch (though I do have my testicles) within this ministry.  Over the years, a lot of Samson brothers have taken advantage of that position.  Whilst looking back, I'm very appreciative of that.  I listen without being able to relate to much of what they've / they're experiencing, and I find that being heard is all they truly need.

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Because cross talk isn't allowed within Samson Society meetings, I 100% of the time feel heard and seen.  Because there's no requirement that you speak on the suggested topic, I feel free to open up as I feel so moved.  In other words, if I want to talk about Butt play, I can.  If I want to talk through how difficult it is to sometimes manage my feelings of shame (within certain circumstances) due to my homosexual desires, I can.  If I want to talk about how beautiful I find it to be to observe men pleasuring themselves (especially when it involves semen), I can. If I want to talk about how fortunate I feel to observe a beautiful man unabashedly peel off their shirts (within an appropriate setting), I can.

I loathe hearing men make some sort of attempt to "speak into my life" within a group setting.  I also despise group exercises that insinuate / relegate camaraderie or tribalism.  To me, this harkens too much into the political / religious / cult realm, feeling fake and forced.

Samson Society resists this emotional posturing outright (based on my observations).  And I love that.  As such, you can hate the guts of everyone in the room but still benefit tremendously by simply being present (& that's why it will never be church).

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Mr. Nate Larkin and his sweet wife are my heroes.  Leading via weakness is where it's at (if you ask them).  He's the antithesis of Dr. James Dobson, Franklin Graham, etc. (men who incessantly critique - for attention and donations - everyone and everything around them).  Nate simply knows how to sit back and enjoy time with other men.  Whether it's his BFF Aaron Porter or Samson guys at the Summit.  I love that about him.

For I too just want to bask in the maleness (enjoying the view) whilst feeling / being seen.  It's an intoxicating experience that powerfully affirms me myself as an image-bearer.  I grow stronger and more self aware as a result.

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In closing, I love to push boundaries.  Especially with guys within Samson.  I like to see how men might react to stories / questions that are tough to hear.  

Because I'm here for my recovery, I'm far less fearful of offending someone (plus taking risks = feeling masculine for Rob).  And sometimes, these "tests" result in some real growth pertaining to our friendship.  Other times, the friendship implodes as a result.  Because of whom I am, I rarely feign sincere loss if the latter occurs.  For I have memory and more often than not, a record of that man via his writings, audio journals, etc.that I can look back on at my discretion (which I often do).

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One final note.  

The men who've attempted to woo me into a sexual relationship have been few and far between within Samson Society.  Remember, it takes two to tango.  That being said, you're always going to have guys who simply do not believe that homosexual activity is sinful, and when they see just how sincere I am (most Samson guys are) pertaining to my / their sexuality, some simply can't seem to help themselves from dipping their toe in the water (to check the temp).  

I think of a lot of this stems from these men desiring a virgin / Samson lay.  And I get that.  

One dude used to ask me repeatedly, "Are you sure you've never had sex with another man?" (hint, hint).

That horny old Catholic fart.  

Here's to another ten years!  

Fall 2024!

Throughout Q1 (& the majority of Q2) of this year, I rarely spent time with my wife (other than us intentionally working out together at the Y).  She unexpectedly landed two new, very hands-on clients right at the beginning of '24, therefore integrating them into her workflow (alongside the typical demands of Q1 pertaining to her existing client base) kept her very, very busy.  

This summer has been all about travel.  And not vacation travel but travel related to work / children's commitments.  

On top of that has been the ongoing demands from my business coupled with drama from both my mother (who I work alongside) and Angie's mom (as it pertains to long-term care for both my mom's mom and my mother-in-law).

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The presence / reliability of my new best friend has been such a gift throughout what's been (so far) of 2024.  The highlight was his birthday.  I was able to gift him something that was very masculine and very personal.  It wasn't a difficult gift to come up with but seeing him receive it as he did was so worth it.  Also, that was the first time we hugged which meant a lot to me.

Second to this special moment in time was our kayaking trip immediately prior to Memorial Day weekend. He took his two daughters, and I took my youngest.  The weather was perfect.  Spending the day shirtless on the river, boating and swimming, was such the gift of memory-making.  

What's unique about this friendship is the fact that he's not in any way involved in Samson Society nor does he have a need to be.  Instead, the relationship is essentially built upon mutual respect and platonic love that's grown out of serendipity / providence (we met at Lakeside Pres) more than anything else.  

In line with this uniqueness is his reliability as a communicator.  He's consistently asking me about my weekend / week.  And his interest is genuine.  And though he's not a skilled writer, he does his best to muddle through the constraints of text messaging.

In a few weeks, he'll be starting a new job that'll require a lot of travel throughout the remainder of '24.  I'm very pleased to see this vocational upgrade come to fruition, but I am going to miss lunching / seeing him at church.  But absence makes the heart grow fonder.  Plus, I know how to love from afar.  If Samson Society has taught me anything, it's taught me how to do that.

A huge part of our love for each other has to do with what I like to call horizontality.  

Though we have very different backgrounds / professions, we are neck-in-neck when it comes to values.  Values regarding family, physical health, spirituality, Mississippi, friendship and so forth.  In fact, I don't believe I've ever met any other Mississippi man who's as closely matched to myself.  

And finally, yes, he does (now) know of my sexual identity issues (as they pertain to my adolescent years only).  This, in line with my repeated shares related to my struggles with Internet porn (& the subsequent need for Samson Society), has provided him with enough of a picture of Rob to suffice.

What's cool is that he cannot relate to any degree (I've asked).  And he doesn't pretend to.  

Like my wife, this guy simply has a heart of gold and a halo that illuminates all around like a supernova.  

This, combined with his lumberjack / mercenary physical build / air, makes him one of a kind.  He's an absolute K-E-E-P-E-R.

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In closing, my oldest two daughters are now back in college.  School starts, for them, next week. As such, our 1,550-sf house is so much less stressful.  Plus, Angie and I can now go back to our sleep divorce setup which we both absolutely love.  

"Transparent Training Union" on Sunday afternoons at 5 PM CST is going great.  The most interesting part of facilitating that virtual meeting is the realization of how unreliable so many virtual meeting facilitators are.  I'm plugged into a Slack channel for "virtual meeting hosts", and it's surprising (to me) to see the recurring abandonment of leadership roles.  And I suppose, knowing that most of these Samson guys have never engaged within an in-person Samson meeting (much less facilitated one), they simply don't realize how reckless / irresponsible their example truly is relative to the community as a whole.   

I'm of the opinion that if you choose to facilitate a Samson meeting (in-person or virtual), you need to stay the course long-term.

Perhaps this is a generational problem?  

Younger men do tend to not commit to anything for longer than they're "feeling it" (whatever that means).  This is their bane, and it will haunt them 'till they recognize their stupidity (stupid is a verb).    

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Regarding my own recovery, bizarrely, my relatively new pocket computer (hand me down from my oldest daughter) has been of great help to me as of late. Due to my core issue of self-loathing, my penchant for only seeing a void whilst looking inward has been offset tremendously via this pocket TV (it has an enormous screen).  

I despise images of myself, but there's now a season where that's beginning to change.  Never did I imagine me, in anyway shape or form, begin to make true progress in this regard.  

God is good, and I'm determined to keep pressing onward.  The grip of self-loathing feeds into feelings of isolation.  This provokes my desire to consume gay porn.  In turn, I choose to pulverize the self-loathing with truth.  Truth regarding the gloriously unique image-bearer that I truly am.  That's my recovery modus operandi.

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I'm so anticipating Fall 2024.  Thanks be to God for where I'm headed.  I trust him completely for such a time as this.  Cooler temps, slower home pace (treasured sleep!), Samson Summit in November.  Awesomeness ahead.

As a Christian, You're Going To Get Hurt Within Samson Society. Why Expect This? Because You're Called To Serve Firstly & Feel Secondly.

Prior to losing my Campus Architect / Facilities Director position at Delta State University in 2013, I was surrounded by men day in and day out via the demands of / setup within my vocational role.  I did my darndest to treat everyone fairly, but since I was only there one year prior to my termination (thanks to me violating their IT policy), I really only had time to grow close to a handful of these blue-collar blokes.  Overall, though, I felt this experience was literally the zenith of my career as an architect.  And I felt this at day one.  It truly had all the makings of a dream job.

My leadership approach was as follows: open-door, listen and try to help without in any way pretending to know better than they did (because I usually didn't).  My predecessor had taken the exact opposite approach, therefore the change in leadership style, for my minions, was like a breath of fresh air.

Therein, what dragged / wore on me constantly was how one-sided this setup was.  Especially as it pertained to both me and my family being transplanted into this very new, very isolating small-town MS setting.  For my minions had been starving for respect, therefore my appointment was soon met with all that pent up demand.

Ultimately, no one there knew Rob - warts & all. Nor did I have any friends (outside of work) that served me within the same open door, subservient capacity (as I was day-in-and-day-out serving my men).  As a result, as each work week passed, I felt more and more like an outsider through and through. 

Nonetheless, Rob's respectful modus operandi was appropriate and helpful to all of these men, and this provided me with peace of mind.  For it represented me not being - in the least - overstepping of the supervisor / minion relationship.  For I'd experienced that myself when I too was a minion (within other vocational settings), and it was neither fair nor in anyway helpful therein as it pertained to me doing my minion job to the best of my ability.

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My introduction to Samson Society in August 2014 (11-months post job termination) felt like the "mirror universe" version of my aforementioned Campus Architect / Facilities Director role at DSU.  And this was absolutely apparent, within that first in-person Samson group, due to the fact that I simply wouldn't / couldn't be called upon to "hold the professional line" (put up or shut up).  Therefore, no matter what I happened to say, either within or outside of a meeting (after meeting / retreats) I was allowed to test this assumption repeatedly, yet never once did anyone pull me aside and say, "you might want to tone down the authenticity rhetoric a little."

For such a time as that, I was desperately in need of this weekly orgy of truth-telling / being heard and listened to, for I had so much anger, shame and desperation, with no idea what to do with it.  Plus, I simply wasn't interested in really hearing or knowing otherwise about anyone else's situation (though I certainly pretended to).  My own pain was simply too big to look away from - 24/7/365.  So much so, back then, that it came close to pulling me under completely (thanks to PTSD).

Eventually though, it became more manageable as the pressure eased within my mind.

As such, I did begin to heal.  And from there, I truly began serving / giving back to this community in droves.  I'm here to testify to the fact that Samson Society absolutely worked its magic.  From there, I hit recovery cruise control via service to those who'd have me.  And oh, how much fun that's been. 

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Consider this memory of note:

My breakout attempt to extend an intimate hand of friendship within Samson Society took place right before Christmas 2014.  A younger man who'd been faithful (at that point, longer than I had) to the First Baptist Church Jackson Samson Society piqued my platonic interest in light of his exuberant, outgoing persona (super fun guy).  I'd been fortunate enough to hear bits and pieces of this Samson brother's story throughout the five months I'd been attending said meeting and had even attended a few Bible studies over at his apartment  

What I didn't realize was how my attempts to extend a personal hand of friendship would be reacted to via the other men or at least one, in particular, who'd long since crossed that particular relational bridge (w/ fun guy).

This was when I quickly realized that my involvement within Samson Society was in no way happening inside a vacuum, and that I was just as blokey as all my peers.  And running headlong into this now wedge hurt, but it also didn't deliver reciprocally anything other than a strong reminder of how absolutely okay it was for me to stand up for my own wants and desires within this sacred space of brotherhood.  

Or this one:

I poured mucho time and energy into a guy who'd, like me, come to a Samson story retreat.  This was my second of these, and mostly, I was there out of respect for the facilitator (who was my first "Silas" - pre-Samson Society).  This (fellow retreat attendee) AL native and I agreed to continue dialoguing into the future, and he was extremely faithful to that agreement.

Eventually, the stars aligned, and from there, we were set to both attend a Samson Society National Retreat.  I'd been to many of these prior, but this was his first.  I vividly recall comparing (to him) my previous Samson National Retreats as vampiric feeding grounds.  In essence, fantastic opportunities to make new connections and therefore "drink in" stories 'till one's heart's content.  

Disappointedly, he failed to engage.  In fact, he spent the majority of his time - throughout the weekend - text messaging his wife back in GA.  For she was his codependent female "Silas", for lack of a better word.  As a result, not one Samson guy benefited from befriending this dude (besides brushing shoulders with him during the lunch line).  And that was because he made zero effort to invest as he'd invested in me (& vice versa) throughout the lead up to this endeavor.

We continued our ongoing bi-monthly chats, but it took a long while for me to settle back into our routine emotionally unscathed.  

Nonetheless, I'd realized from the get-go, whilst walking into that second Samson story retreat, that it wasn't going to offer me a whole lot (repetitive) unless I made the most of this syndication.  And that's what motivated me to pursue new connections.  For this, I had no regrets.

Or this one:

Young guy shows up to my Samson meeting at Lakeside Pres church one Saturday morning.  Since he's a newbie, I immediately follow-up with him out of respect for showing up.

The deep-seated respect that returns to me is noble but also uneasy-ly blind.

He continues attending (like clockwork).  Eventually, I tell him to let me come alongside and intentionally assist in his recovery (over the course of the upcoming calendar year).  Months pass.  From there, we agree to meet once a week.

I become his very intentional big brother cheerleader, attending his side hustle events, gifting him at birthdays / promotions at work, and ever steadily continuing to meet regularly. Our friendship is richly rewarding. 

I even loop him into a movie night ("1917") with my father at the newly opened suburban MoviePlex.  Fun times.

Then very unexpectedly the relationship exploded violently.  And of all places for this to occur, ironically, it was during an in-person Samson meeting.        

Within just a few minutes, our friendship / brotherhood ceased to exist in spite of it being bookended on either side by this very ministry.  

A few weeks later, I followed through with (yet again) attending the National Samson Society retreat.  This was never an option for my previous Samson brother.  For anytime I brought up the notion of him accompanying me was met with swift refusal / rebuttal.  

It was during that retreat that I asked Mr. Justin Schwind about attending the virtual Samson Society meeting he facilitated (I'd never prior given serious thought to attending a virtual Samson Society meeting).

And that formally segued me from in-person to virtual literally overnight.

And finally, this one:

A newcomer to this "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson meeting caught my attention.  I DM'ed him via Slack and before long we were off and running.  He'd attended intensive weekends within other men's parachurch ministries, therefore Samson was serving him beautifully as an everyday reminder / placeholder of that / those sacred event(s).   

We talked A LOT for weeks on end.  The alignment pertaining to our intellect, personas, faith were undeniable. Plus, he was just so hungry for attention.  As such, the attraction was building between us. 

By this point (this was February of '23), I had amassed quite the impressive resume of Samson stories.  So much so that I truly thought I'd heard it all.

But with this guy, that was most definitely not the case.

My reaction therein was blunt.

Needless to say, he was deeply offended.

And that was the end of that.  

But, in the end, it was this offense that motivated me to reposition myself in (virtual Samson meeting) "Brain Changers" on Sunday afternoons / evenings.  And eventually, from co-facilitator, I became sole facilitator ("Transparent Training Union").  

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Last weekend, my wife and I bumped into a guy I often see at the Y.  At the time, she and I were at the local grocery.  This man's younger than me, but due to his build, looks a good bit older than his biological age.  I'd been praying for an opportunity to give him my business card in hopes of us having lunch someday.  And lo and behold, here was my opportunity.  

Why pray this prayer?

Because he's right there in front of me, and he's got a story I want to hear.  That's why.

Plus, he knows my name.

Seriously, I can't not take the chance to see where an extended hand might very well lead.  I love men.  God loves me.  It's full circle.  

Lagniappe

More lagniappe

Even more lagniappe

Dead End. For Now.

A very prominent (superstar) gay porn actor was recently indicted for possession of copious amounts of child porn.  As so many convicted criminals are who dabble within this particular illegal activity, he was caught via a ruse.  Federal agents posing otherwise online coaxed this porn actor to share illegal content.  From there a law enforcement search of his home ensued and much more illegal material was uncovered within the man's apartment (thumb drive).  

There's a boatload of relevance to this turn of events, and I'm going to attempt to summarize therein within this post.

This gay porn actor is in his early 40s.  He's a very affably attractive (6'-4" / 265lbs) white man who could easily sub for an action TV star on any popular streaming service's bloated screening menu.  

According to published interviews, he's only been associated with sharing / creating gay porn since 2020, and back then, it was the pandemic's vocational pressures that positioned him to take the plunge (he'd been working successfully as a retail salesperson).

Him creating a microsite on OnlyFans garnered instantaneous attention, and in turn, fistfuls of cash.  For he apparently had copious amounts of homebrewed solo porn vids that served to satiate his newfound stardom online.  This eventually led him to contract with a gay porn studio and another and another.  His ascent to fame / fortune within the industry was apparently hypersonic.  As such, of all the men who've ever bowed to this level of debauchery, he arguably was the first to successfully and steadily bridge the mainstream gap by spearheading content that in no way smelled of creep or fake or most importantly - stereotypical gay man.  This is what allowed him to stand apart, garnering him award after award.  From there, illustrious recognition followed suit along with unimaginable / unprecedented influence as a porn actor.

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Let me expound further.

Watching this guy have sex with other men is akin to having a front row seat at the Olympiads.  He's a "natural" lover of men.  

Specifically, there's a tenderness to his moves that in no way implies "gay for pay".  This combined with an absolute comfortableness whilst being in front of the camera elevates the smut to new heights.  

And this, undoubtedly, is where his popularity took root and was continuing to thrive feverishly online.  It was honest to goodness recognition for doing something no one else has / could with steadfast aplomb.

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Throughout the years, I've met my fair share of men who've had sex with other men.  Many of them are frank regarding their disappointment in the experience.  Much of that is centered around the notion of "pity sex".  This being finding an attractive man to have sex with, but soon realizing that they're only involved out of remorse (pity or perhaps curiosity) versus true interest.  

Also, on rare occasion, I've been told stories of men who've been seduced into bed with another man only to find the mood shift unexpectedly towards aggression / assault whereas they were easily taken advantage of.  

And then, of course, there's simply the unattractiveness of the stereotypical gay man as a whole.  Taking into account their unfortunate penchant for mental health issues (much of it the result of trauma / neglect) combined with a propensity for epidemic proportions of promiscuity (normalization of recreational sex) combined with the subsequent sexually transmitted diseases that go along with those behaviors.

It's overall an ugly, broken populace that tries desperately to canonize its radicalized normality.  This in line with threats / accusations of hate, hate, hate towards anyone who's even slightly critical of the stupidity.

But then, homegrown "Austin Wolf" came along to serve as the theatrical exception.

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Western culture, for the most part, embraces the rights of the individual.  This combined with America's undeniable melting pot of citizenry has, throughout the past, favored sympathy towards the downtrodden and weak.  And these are good things.

When you read that, it sounds so noble and holy.  But one cannot deny our free enterprise system and how it tends to exploit the sweet by and by for its own gain.  As such, it's very much a not at all blindly symbiotic relationship that too few even mildly comprehend (& thereby fall victim to).

I screened "Million Dollar Baby" with my father back in 2004.  Back then, I was often looking for opportunities to funly spend time with my dad.  This film seemed like a surefire bet.

All in all, I came away from the film impressed, but also a little confused.  For I'd never known of female boxing being a real thing.  

Our 'hood (81 lots) likely has as many dogs residing within as humans.  Many homeowners have multiple dogs.  We either hear them barking whilst out in the yards, or we see them leashed / being walked through the 'hood like clockwork.  

I have friends who believe men who're dogless should have their heads examined.  Especially if they're men with children.

Sports is big, big, big business as is pet food / supplies / training / kenneling / grooming and so forth.  There's a lot of money to be made therein.  In turn, this perpetuates / normalizes the activity behind the economics via popular opinion and marketing influence.  

The gay male resides within a MASSIVE economic sector, but it's one of the trickiest to normalize (make mainstream).  Why?

...there's simply the unattractiveness of the stereotypical gay man as a whole.  Taking into account their unfortunate penchant for mental health issues (much of it the result of trauma / neglect) combined with their propensity for epidemic proportions of promiscuity (normalization of recreational sex) plus the subsequent sexually transmitted diseases that go along with those behaviors.

It's overall an ugly, broken populace that tries desperately to canonize its radicalized normality.  This in line with threats / accusations of hate, hate, hate towards anyone who's even slightly critical of the stupidity.

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But then, homegrown "Austin Wolf" came along to accidently serve as the bridge.

I would argue that had Justin Heath Smith not recently been locked up, awaiting his soon to be arraignment and eventual trial, he may very well have served to successfully plant the seeds of reset of the public's perception of gay men.  And not simply due to his onscreen presence / actions but via his uninhibited persona / greater good approach to the gay porn industry as a whole.

If you don't believe me, I challenge you to do some research on your own regarding this massively influential individual.  For this guy (over the past four years) seemingly was the Dale Carnegie of the gay porn industry.  And what I mean by that is ambitious, collaborative wrapped within a deeply sincere package.

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We are witnessing the beginnings of the elevation of the gay male as equal to the straight male in terms of interpersonal / relational respect.  And all of this ultimately is hinged on the complete normalization of homosexual activity between men.  As a result, it won't be too much longer 'till parents celebrate / anticipate their children moving into the homosexual lifestyle to the same degree that they do the hetero.

The front door for this pivot resides within these truths. But the ultimate fumigation of our cultural structure will fall on men who provide the public with a face that's buyable.  One that represents what collectively is labeled as "what I might aspire to be / become".  

This is where the American Dream pauses in a big way to reconsider its future direction as a nation of equalized diversity.  

Who might we see next, take up this mantle, on behalf of these and will they even marginally realize the significance of their role therein as it pertains to this paradigm shift?       

Intimacy With Men Lives On Via Memory & Technology

Sledge's birthday is 2024's Memorial Day.  Leading up to his birthday, each year, I re-listen to his audio journals & re-read his personal analytical work that he so fearlessly sent my way back in 2018.  Sledge was 28 at the time, and I was 45.  We'd met due to his willingness to step into the Samson Society meeting I facilitated at Lakeside Pres.  At the time, lust was a sizable part of his life, and he'd found himself convicted therein whilst hearing a mutual friend of ours share his testimony (prior to referring his audience to Samson Society).

Sledge needing psychotherapy and likely meds for clinical depression, but this wasn't apparent to me initially.  Instead, what jarred my attention (whilst parlaying my analytical thinking), to the massive degree that it did, was just how head-over-heels enamored he was of Rob from the moment we met.

Why did this matter?

Sledge loathed MS.  Everyone in MS.  Except for me and a woman at work that he'd grown fiercely attracted to.  This combined with his brilliance made for quite the enigma.  

So, how did he end up here within the Butt Crack of the USA?  Essentially, his relentless efforts to climb the corporate ladder begrudgingly brought him here.

At this time, Sledge was newly married and actively working to reproduce (he & his sweet wife already had one offspring). Regarding his spouse, I'm fairly certain she knew her husband was mentally ill (she was a healthcare worker) yet was too afraid to put it into words.  For Sledge had a razor-sharp tongue and zero tolerance for criticism from anyone sans using it in kind.  Plus, they'd tried couples therapy to no avail.  Nonetheless, she gave him what he seemed to care amount mostly.  Her desire for sex.  And this he obliged from her with absolutely zero resistance.  For Sledge received seemingly otherworldly amounts of affirmation via cunninlingus / vaginal intercourse.

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It was around this time of year (early summer) when I headed to south AL for 5th / 6th grade church camp.  This was a weeklong affair at a humble venue containing absolutely zero out-of-the-ordinary (from what I was used to in MS) natural beauty whatsoever.  It was a flat, forestry landscape with a relatively small lake.  Therein, each humble building was interconnected via gravel path / road.  

It was only our church, First Baptist Church Jackson, that participated, therefore there were no opportunities to intermingle / befriend with fresh faces.  In total, around 30-40 boys & girls were present for this scorchingly hot summer break week.

The year was 1985.  Van Halen's game-changing album had just come out (in fact, they'd even performed in Jackson at the MS Coliseum).  It defined this era pertaining to what it meant to be a young white male.  

During the late evening of the day we arrived at the church camp, I headed to the communal bathroom, there within the boys' bunkhouse, to brush my teeth.  Mid-way through my brushing, I heard the lone shower (that was being used) turn off.  When the curtain was raked violently across the rod, our collegiate chaperone, Dan, put his wet, naked bod nonchalantly on display.

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Sledge's audio journals were meticulously narrated / recorded.  The degree of vulnerability within is unlike any Samson deliverable I've ever received (& I've received A LOT of deliverables over the past decade).  

When I first listened to them back in 2018 (immediately following their gifting), the density of the recordings was too much for me to process with any real foresight / diligence.  That, along with how positively intimate they were, short-circuited my understanding of just how needy this young man truly was at the time.

It was almost like seeing him too (through that 1985 wall mirror) naked and wet, right there behind me, for such a time as that.  As such, I did what I only knew to do.  Smile awkwardly and continue forward with my teeth cleaning routine.

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Dan's collegiate frame was awe inspiring.  Both his impressive height and muscular build classified him as intimidating.  Not to mention the thick sandy brown chest and stomach hair that added years of maturity to his 22-year-old self.

And then there was his junk.  

Let's just say, I didn't even know where to begin to process what rested there moistly between this stranger's legs, though when I now come across Ezekiel 23, it easily harkens back.  

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Sledge's upbringing hadn't been normal, and he was just beginning to truly wrestle with the ramifications of that truth.  I could not relate to his growing up years for it all seemed so pejorative.  Particularly considering how intelligent / grounded his parents seemingly were.  

And then from there, his college girlfriend (who eventually became his wife) allowed him to become her dorm room fuck buddy.  And this went on "out of spite" (according to Sledge) in light of their parents' desire to see them complete their higher ed prior to marriage.  

What served as icing on the cake though was the fact that Sledge's dad was a pastor.  A devout, average-sized congregational pastor who loved both his wife and three children immensely.

At this time, Sledge was wondering out loud about pivoting and becoming a pastor himself.

And here I was just standing there at the sink minding my own business...

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Throughout my life, I've never ceased relishing the memory of seeing our collegiate chaperone's freshly showered physique, there on private display, in all of its glory.  For though I'm certain there've been plenty of greater than or equally beautiful men for me to admire, my unexpected exposure to him, at such an impressionable age, taught me such the important lesson.

Timing is everything.  Therefore, be alert.  Some of the most (eventually) fruitful & memorable experiences of one's life may very well occur when you're least expecting it.    

Lagniappe

Compromises Made To Recovery Work Add Up Over Time / Place = Expected Behavior

My middle daughter and I were in AR last week and whilst there, we had dinner at a memorable Hot Springs sports bar.  The restaurant was tucked in the corner of a strip shopping center adjacent to our hotel which made it too convenient to not pass up.

The early evening was just beginning to see some drizzling rain as we brought our travel-weary / empty stomachs through the pair of storefront doors.  The sports bar was understandably dark inside but very clean and spacious.  Despite the fact that it was a weekday evening, there were a number of middle to upper-middle class patrons enjoying the friendly atmosphere.  With live music playing and sports channels supersized (projection) on most walls, there was plenty to take in / relax by.

We enjoyed dining on high sodium, high fat appetizers combined with homemade chili and pizza.  It was extremely satisfying and had we been drinkers (middle daughter isn't quite old enough to drink yet but bear with me), a cold beer(s) likely would have only made it that much more enjoyable.

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My first Silas (we cross pollinated; therefore, I served as his Silas in kind) was an alcoholic.  He'd unfortunately (fortunately?) received a DUI a few weeks prior to walking into his first Samson Society meeting back in the early fall of 2015.  This served as his primary motivator to move into recovery.  

Internet porn consumption was also, at the time, a big part of his life.  And most of this was occurring at his office.  Surprisingly, this behavior was unrelated to his alcohol abuse.  

He would tell me stories of how sports bars were his "second office" whilst out of town on business (he traveled 3-4 times a month).  Per the man:  Once he'd successfully located a familiar-looking one (early to mid-afternoon), he'd situate himself at the bar with his laptop / cellphone ON GO ready to down as many craft beers as conceivable.  This would go on 'till the wee hours of the morning.  From there, he'd oftentimes find himself so inebriated that he'd no idea how to find his way back to his hotel, therefore he'd simply black out along the perimeter of some random retail parking lot.  Therein, he'd sleep off the booze there amongst the freshly mulched Indian Hawthornes.   

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As a Christian, we're called to be imitators of Christ.  Also, I'm filled with the Holy Spirit, therefore in and through me my behavior should exude this.  And it does, yet I cannot deny that my flesh comes along for the ride.  My flesh has memory.  History, if you will, that reflects my past (recent / distant).

Over the past 8-9 months, there's been a newbie at the Y who bears a striking resemblance to a very popular, very handsome television star.  The defining attribute of this actor is his impressive, arduously sculpted frame.  

Let's just say you could take 1.5 Robs and pack them into this muscular 40-year-old dude.

I took the initiative to introduce myself to this newbie a month or so ago, and he's now reciprocating the cordialness when our paths cross, even going so far as to discreetly track my movements in and through my improvised strength training routines.

I don't feign the attention / interest, for I know it harkens to our now familiarity / newfound friendship.  Plus, all of this forecasts tighter connection / trust.  And who doesn't desire that?  I certainly do.

What's challenging though is how two-faced I feel.  Why?  I'm reminded constantly, whilst in his presence, of how awe-inspiringly attracted I am to him.  For there's truly not been another masculine archetype (of my own) within that space (during my lengthy tenure) who's appearance / presence wasn't on par with his own.

And unfortunately, me no longer politely ignoring him has indirectly exacerbated my desires.  Desires which aren't by any means not ruefully kept in check, but far less easy to reign in whilst dilly-dallying with gay porn lackadaisically.

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If I were my aforementioned Silas 1.0 (from 2015), eating dinner last week within a nondescript sports bar in Hot Springs, AR (even with my offspring) would have been woefully irresponsible in regard to my never-ending recovery.  As his Silas, had I found out about this stupidity, I would have questioned it outright.

Comfortable, familiar, private settings, I would argue, can be the driving force behind a mindset of permissiveness.  Place = expected behavior. 

I'm no theologian, but Jesus did embody his humanity at 100% combined with being God also at 100%.  Yet, according to Scripture, he did not Fall into sin.  

I believe much of this had to do with his eternal perspective.  A perspective that pitted his knowledge of all things up against the temporary bliss / novelty of sin.  

I am not of the opinion that he had any sort of God-enhanced humanity which positively impacted his senses, provided him with supernatural physical endurance, etc.  

His mind was the mind of God and therefore the outlook of God.  Heaven, no doubt, was his home.  And therein, he never allowed its address to ever be but a thoughtful heartbeat away.

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Presently, I use gay porn mostly at work, and this pays homage to the beginnings of me becoming captivated by it.  Work setting(s) represent familiarity in regard to this escape.  They're my version of a sports bar.

What's happening though is these casual gay porn interludes are eroding my ability to be Christ-like to the degree (actively but mostly internally) that I'm called to be.  Particularly within settings like the Y (where I've recently made my new friend).  And the resulting problem isn't the fragrant allure of the revolving door that wafts within my proverbial nostrils.  Not at all.  Instead, it's the reassurance of an IDENTITY that's sure to be re-accredidated within my mind.  An identity of compromiser.  Cheat.  Time-waster.  Fraud.  Even self-flagellator.  

You've seen these young people cut themselves to draw blood.  Seemingly, they do this within an oft mindless state of consciousness.  From there, the pain / woundedness therein from these small lacerations reset / solidify their IDENTITY amidst the soothe.  I can relate to this.  For what's occurring privately within my mind (w/ my newfound friend) at the Y represents the scarring I've received from my own poor choices.  Specifically, it decrees that you ARE A PHONY / FRAUD due to the undeniable dermis damage. 

Please pray for me.  Pray that I'll stop compromising.  It's hard enough to be Jesus-like without the negativity / aroma of shame off-gassing from every sanctified pore.  It's like smelling your own body odor with no readily available escape from one's own reek.  

It's so weird how I fall back to an IDENTITY that I know will only hurt me further.  It proves how much disdain I truly have for my own self.            

Loyalty To Christ Alone

It seems as if technology has only furthered our culture's pursuit of loyalty - across the board.  Loyalty to brands (retailers, sports teams, entertainers, political parties and so forth) primarily.  When I was young, automobile manufacturers had laid profound groundwork pertaining to consumer loyalty.  And this was bolstered via savvy advertising campaigns.  Today, particularly with our pocket computers in tow, it's now become personal.  In what way exactly?  You know...  So many individuals vie for loyalty online as they chase attention / notoriety by pushing their individualistic brand.

"Loyalty thinking / wiring" concretizes when you're young.  For that's when ad campaigns carry tremendous weight.  This combined with those we look up to (retailers, sports teams, entertainers, politicians & so forth) gleefully "clothe" us with their stabilizing identity (whilst emptying our pocketbooks).  And this makes sense.  Adolescents are VERY CULPABLE to the novelty of (re-re-re-booted) brands (everything comes full circle). 

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First Baptist Church Jackson's Senior Pastor during much of the '70s and '80s was Dr. Frank Pollard.  Dr. Pollard married Angie and I back in '96.  As high schoolers, he was the man in our church's pulpit each & every Sunday. 

Considering his reach, Dr. Pollard was keenly aware of his ability to influence, taking his position behind the FBCJ pulpit into account.  Interestingly enough, this saint's only loyalty was to Christ / the gospel.  Otherwise, he was silent as it pertained to brands - across the board (including, if not very much so, his own).

As a pastor, he was the most transparent vessel for Christ's teachings of anyone I've ever encountered.  A lot of this was due to how much authority he wielded in light of his intelligence, education and articulation.  But also, his appearance / demeanor too relegated him to simply illuminate us listeners with 100% unfiltered gospel teaching / preaching.  It was the most remarkable feat.  And man oh man, for us to have had him here in Mississippi.

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The other funny nuance about Dr. Pollard was his ability to humor everyone around him without offending anyone.  Every joke would land squarely in the epicenter of decency but never, under any circumstances, even hint of cornpone.  

You know, you meet some men, even from afar, and you realize just how blessed you were to sit under their tutelage.  That was Frank Pollard for me (& many, many others).

I remember being in the Sunday morning service when he announced his accelerated retirement due to cognitive issues.  It was almost impossible to breathe afterwards in light of all the oxygen depletion.

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This past Sunday, during "Brain Changers" (the virtual Samson Society meeting I co-facilitate), I met a man who too was in the throes of cognitive issues (due to Parkinson's disease).  He was a retired vet.

These issues affected his speech, therefore a fair amount of what he said was really difficult to decipher.  Too, his speech was delayed.  

Nonetheless, just sitting there listening to his broken, on occasion garbled words was incredibly humbling.  And not at all awkward.

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Dr. Frank Pollard preached his sermons from memory.  Including any recitations he made throughout.  Therefore, once his memory issues became vocationally debilitating, he quickly stepped down.  

Within this blog, we're privileged to have transcripts from many of Dr. Pollard's "radio sermons" (he broadcasted "The Baptist Hour" each week).  

Simply type "Pollard" into the Search bar at the top of the desktop version of the Home Page to locate and enjoy.

Intentional Touch / Body Proximity, For Many Men, Is The Superior Way To Confirm Brotherly Love

Back in 2007-2008, I found myself withering on the vine via (authentic) platonic isolation (an ideal situation for Rob's uninhibited gay porn consumption or worse...).  It hadn't been long (October '06) since I'd left my job in the private sector to work for the State of Mississippi.  And I was honored to take that position, but it was nearly instantaneously obvious that I wouldn't be making close friends there.  As such, I had no desire to look back towards my vocational peers from the past either.  

The Internet (Yahoo! Groups specifically) came to my rescue.  Thanks be to God.

Scott, my newfound Aussie friend, was a master of the language arts.  It wasn't long before the "L" word was rolling off his tongue.  And I delighted in that, reciprocating blithely, for I'd never had another man say that word to me.  But I have to admit that it felt a bit hollow and quite forced.  For I'd never met Scott in person.  Instead, it was simply email and telephone / Skype calls that worked to congeal our relationship to the best of our ability.  Eventually, our very long-distance friendship diminished in relevance within my mind, and much to his chagrin, we took a one-year break.  

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Within the Samson Society, there's no shortage of hugs and "L" words.  Simply attend an Intensive or National Retreat, and you'll see what I'm referring to.  Arguably, it's the language of Samson.  In that regard, we're the gayest group of (mostly) straight men you'll likely ever encounter. 

Sidenote:  When I was a senior in high school, I gifted a neighbor friendboy (same age) a mixtape.  This friend had unexpectedly come back into my life during that one year, having moved away the summer prior to our sixth-grade year.  Despite both our (historical) platonic closeness as elementary-age boys (we were "best friends") as well as our (senior year) reestablished proximity, our friendship DID NOT "pick up where we left off".  Defeated and acting somewhat neurotic, I refused to give up hope.  And that's where the high school graduation mixtape gift idea came to fruition.  Unsurprisingly, it detonated any semblance of remaining dignity within our friendship bond.  

No gifting mixtapes please.     

Within certain cultures, best friends hold hands - in public - as a symbol of their love / commitment to each other.  You'll never see that amongst pirate monks, though I do think there's some merit to that innocent gesture.  

But what about men who have no interest in Samson Society, yet are just as fiercely loyal as friends (if not more so)?   How should we express love to them in a way that's respectfully effective?

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Here's an overall qualifier:

One of the greatest gifts the Samson Society has afforded me is practice loving on men.  Especially from the standpoint of catering that love specifically to that individual man.

I have rarely hugged a man who's not / who wasn't involved in Samson Society (except within circumstances that were quite forced / awkward).  

So how do I respectfully communicate love sans the fraternity of Samson Society providing oversight / ground rules / safety?

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Here in Mississippi, arguably the greatest fear of parents of boys is that they'll end up / turn out gay.  Having a homosexual son is a massive point of shame here in the Magnolia State.  As such, these children are usually written off completely / ignored outright within traditional southern communities.  And I believe this is primarily due to how dismissed / frowned upon any dialogue (identifier) regarding sexuality is within the buckle of the Bible Belt.  Hence, boldly proclaiming / admitting to one's same-sex attraction (& admitting to enjoying acting out on it) is akin to openly discussing one's viewpoint on southern race relations / Catholicism.  It amounts to instantaneous relational ostracism.   

As such, it's what drives middle to upper / middle to upper-class white parents to elevate / ratify hetero norms to the nth degree (in hopes of future-proofing their boy's budding sexuality).    

For example, these teenage boys are given full-size pickups to drive NO MATTER WHAT.  Is there no more hetero-normal vehicle than a body-on-frame full-size, gas-guzzling truck?  Absolutely not!

And preferably, it should be a domestic-designed / manufactured truck.  Toyota / Nissans simply aren't as hetero-normal as Ford and Chevrolet / GMC.

I could go on.  (Travel) team sports, boy scouts (tent camping), hunting / fishing and so forth.  

Oh, and if the full-size truck is customized (Carolina squat / rims, glass packs, etc.), all the more peace-of-mind parents can obtain regarding their son's unfettered sexual attraction towards wet vaginas.  

Straight son = parenting job well done.

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Intentional touch.  Mostly via handshakes, but on occasion, via a grasp (strong grip) or tap.  But also, there's the art of body proximity / politics.  

It's that shared space between two brothers.  Whether you're stationed together within a battalion, swimming semi-nude within a river, working out together or simply leaning over the empty bed of a (domestic) PICKUP TRUCK chewing the fat.  

Men's bodies radiate relational energy.  It's like a scent / body aroma that only the canines are actually privy to.  Therein, you mix that with your brother via proximity and emotional affirming can most certainly occur.  Powerfully.  Effortlessly.  Simply by spending time together.  It truly is magical to witness / experience.

And I would argue there's a lot to be said for this approach in terms of its subtleness.  Healthy men desire nothing greater than the respect of other men / women within their lives.  Understanding how to effectively express love candidly yet respectfully towards your special friend, I would argue, is key to sustaining said friendship.  

It took me a long time to learn this.

And you don't have a drive a full-size truck to do this well (though your friend may very well need to own one).

You're welcome.

The Night He Got Jumped By His Former Youth Pastor / It Took Two To Tango / Was This An Isolated Incident? - Stories That Resonate

It is not getting any easier admitting to my neediness.  Over the past quarter (& then some), my wife has been working 12-hour days (home office), and because she's a night owl, most of her workday has been well past 5 PM.  As such, a typical evening (throughout the workday and weekend) consisted of tiptoeing in order to not disturb her grind.  And it was my privilege to step up in this regard.  

Since she became physically disabled due to her May 2020 stroke, a lot of additional housework naturally fell on my shoulders.  Thanks be to God we live in a manageably scaled home (with a small yard)!  Too, only having one additional kidlet (of three total) at home (who's the epitome of obedience and cooperation) to feed / tend to, helps tremendously.

My wife is quite ambitious and very, very capable as a sole proprietor.  Her clients almost immediately recognize this, and therefore lean into her professional services (she's a CPA).  

But where does that leave our marriage - during ramp up / intensely busy seasons?

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Twice last week, I delved back into gay porn.  And of note is how I hit repeat regarding one video I stumbled across in particular (this is very rare for me to do).  The models within this particular vignette were having some passionately dramatic sex, and I mean passionate with a capital P.  In fact, there was more emphasis therein than on your typical hyper close-up genitalia shots.  It felt more like a Hallmark version of Colt Studio than anything else.

But what was truly relevant was the following.  It felt like a porn video made exactly for me for such a time as that / this.

Thursday, (4/11) I began to reckon with just how emotionally needy I truly am at this time, having endured this last quarter.  

My wife and I went out to eat Saturday night at a fairly new restaurant close to our abode.  It was fantastic to steal away as such!  But man, we have a long way to go pertaining to regaining our regularly scheduled marital footing, and it was apparent that neither of us wanted to admit to this.

Nonetheless, both of us realize that marriage is seasonal, and that there'll always be emotional connection pauses that occur, circumstances being whatever they may be.  

They are so not fun though, and arguably leave us both vulnerable to outside forces / temptations.

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Years ago, I attended a Samson Society story retreat over a weekend.  This was my second story retreat, and I was happy to once again support my old friend, Mr. Chris Inman, therein.  A fellow attendee shared a "story of shame" that Saturday afternoon involving his former youth pastor jumping him late one night.

Apparently, this story retreat attendee had (post high school) further befriended, as an adult, his youth pastor.  As such, the youth pastor had divulged his struggle with same-sex attraction (he was single) to this now married with multiple small children (with another on the way) man. 

That friendship naturally matured and continued to warrant time together, and during this particular then recent juncture, the two men were sleeping over at the youth pastor's place.  And that's where the unexpected sexual advance occurred.  

As a result, the younger man immediately fled the scene.  The understandable reactional stress motivated him then to reach out to his parents for support.  Frustratingly, they (particularly his mother) felt their son was overreacting, taking into account the tenured friendship as well as the youth pastor friend's spotless platonic / parochial record.  

At the conclusion of this tale, all I clearly remember is this dude was tremendously angry.  Tremendously angry.  At both his former youth pastor friend / mentor as well as his parents (combined with the world at large).  

I've thought about that story for years and years.  I attempted to follow up with the guy not long after the retreat was over in order to hopefully understand / flesh out more details, but to no avail.  He was absolutely not interested in talking to same-sex attracted Rob (can you blame him?).

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Last summer, a new potential friend (completely unaffiliated with Samson Society) literally fell out of the sky into my sphere of influence.  My aforementioned younger daughter and I had volunteered for a Saturday mission trip (with our church) to Greenwood.  This new friend volunteered too in spite of his family not being a member of our congregation.  If you've read previous blog posts, hearing of this guy is old news.

What makes this new friend so special to Rob is twofold:

1.  His physical presence is intimidating.  This coupled with his reserved persona only add to his exceedingly foreboding posture.  It's important to know that my masculine archetype is very much in line with physical attributes that telegraph the notion of "mysterious threat".  I have no idea why that is.  I've just learned to roll with it.

2.  I'm his first true "big city" (urban / suburban) friend outside of his extended family.  Hence, I want to serve him well as such, being mindful of my influence.

He and I are geared up for around-the-bend warmer days.  Days where we can take our girls swimming, kayaking, exploring the Mississippi out-of-doors.  These are anticipated future memories that engender me with sizable opportunities to BE SEEN whilst seeing him vulnerably.  

I cannot emphasize enough how restorative these experiences will be to my soul.  Our friendship was so embryonic last summer that what few we had like these felt almost surreal - for both of us - in and of themselves.  Mostly due to how unexpectedly initial common ground we found both of ourselves enjoying.  As such, summer 2024 awaits...

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The questions before I close.

-  Will I ever truly come to understand how effectively educated I've become via Samson Society in terms of healthy (modeled & otherwise) male-to-male relationships?

-  By receiving the raw emotion (positive or negative) from another Samson guy, in light of his experience with the unexpected, does this exposure qualify as truly vicarious or is it simply me being a novel spectator?  Furthermore, what constitutes either side of that experiential equation?  

-  Knowing that my new local friend isn't a Samson guy, will that insure, to some degree, the longevity of our friendship (less competition / him not being a pervert as I am)?  

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Samson Society emphasizes recovery, and it most certainly should.  But, an indirect benefit, is the opportunity to become immensely respectful of brotherly love male friendship - both inside & outside of this community.  Regardless, those couplings truly are supernatural - especially here at middle-age.  And, of course, they're absolutely just as, if not moreso, supportive therein within their own unique way.

Thanks be to God for men, image-bearers of the living God.  

     

What Is A Silas?

Here is what our experience tells us: You can get sober from anything going to meetings, but you can’t stay sober just going to meetings. That’s why, in the end, it isn’t even about the meetings. The meetings are a portal into the brotherhood. Samson really lives BETWEEN the meetings in relationships, conversations, friendships. Christianity, properly understood, is a team sport, not an individual event. We’ve been failing because we’ve been playing the wrong game! If we play 1-on-1 against a superior opponent, we will fail.

The lead person on your team we call a Silas. He is the one you are in regular communication with. There is an element of accountability, but it is not focused on sin management. If I just focus on the behavior, I run the risk of mastering that specific behavior and becoming a self-righteous Pharisee. Instead, I give another person (my Silas) real-time access to my whole life. What I’m feeling, thinking, doing, and thinking of doing.

My Silas is not an expert. He is a guy on the same road walking the same direction. But when it comes to my life, he has an advantage over me – he’s not in it! That gives him a perspective on my life that I don’t have. There are whole parts of my life that I can’t see because I’m inside it. Like trying to read the label from inside the bottle.

Here are some of the things my Silas does:

- He gets to know my story.

- He remembers the things I tend to forget.

- He asks the questions I tend to avoid.

- He notices patterns I don’t see.

- He reminds me who I really am.

You are not imposing on him. He gets as much out of the relationship as you do. He needs you to call him. Everyone needs a few moments each day to get out of their own head and focus on another person.