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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here it goes:

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

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

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

And then I hit puberty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, what did I do to cope?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was August of 2014.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fool Me Once (Shame On You). Fool Me Twice (Shame On Me). Thrice Me Fool (Shame On Shame).

A lot can happen in two decades.  Gray hair overtakes dark brown.  Roofs get replaced.  As do automobiles.  Minute details related to times past fade into the background, yet the memory of deep-seated hurts remain.

As such, can people who proved their unreliability in the past be trusted twenty years into the future?

As a Christian, this is the wrong question to ask.  Why?  For our very identity is built on transformation via the gospel.  To be more specific (& to mate that word transformation to time), we're being saved (sanctified) day after day after day, therefore we have an obligation to approach others with the same amount of anticipatory potential.  For it is embedded within our very gospel-centric outlook on life.

Now then, the question to ask should be as follows:

Taking into consideration our past hurt / disappointment regarding that person, what can we do to informally promote forgiveness / reconciliation relative to a low-pressure re-approach to connecting (on some level)?

In other words, we don't forget EXACTLY what went down before, yet never lose hope towards pastiche-ing some semblance of a respectful, reset future together.

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We've lived in our small home for almost 23 years.  Within a handful of years after our move-in (we were first-time homebuyers), our 'hood's developer formally decoupled himself (after 3/4 of the 81 homesites had been built upon / occupied) as oligarch over our homeowners' association.  He did this by appointing three (newfound) homeowners as the initial HOA board of directors, one of which was Rob.

As an architect, it made sense for me to fill the role of President, but what I came to realize was how unequipped I was to manage the dynamics between myself and my fellow (voluntary) board members.  For I came into the role as Prez anxious about dealing with homeowners.  That turned out to be the least of my issues.  Instead, it was my Secretary-Treasurer's demanding persona that I ended up losing the most sleep over.

In summary...

My VP was as laid back as a cucumber.  Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers.  Content was his middle name.  He rarely complained, and only spoke up when issues discussed were of primary interest to him (which wasn't very often).

My Secretary-Treasurer, on the other hand, was combative from the start, and even more opinionated / arrogant than I was!  What gave him an edge (& he knew it) was his intelligence combined with him being ten years my senior (maturation / experience).  

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I have to admit that when it comes to intelligence coupled with curiosity, I'm a sucker for admiration.  That described my Secretary - Treasurer to a tee.  Plus, back then, he was really physically healthy.  Now, keep in mind that I'm describing someone from twenty years ago.  In essence, for a 40-year-old Mississippi man, he had it going on.  I specifically remember complimenting him regarding his physique and him mentioning creatine as his secret weapon.  

I had no idea what creatine was.

I do recall him saying that he and "a friend" regularly strength trained in his friend's garage.  No doubt this was a fastidious regimen.

All in all, he didn't look anything like your typical 40-year-old Mississippi man in 2002, making him that much more intriguing / captivating / intimidating to me.  I felt fortunate, from the outset, to have the opportunity to work with such a unique dude.

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I believe it was during our third year of serving together on the HOA board that I inadvertently caught him (Secretary - Treasurer) embezzling monies from the homeowners' association checking account.  In essence, he was using the debit card attached to the checking account to put gas in his cars.  

At this point within our relationship, things were very tense, and communication, in particular, was practically nonexistent between he and my VP and me.  

His financial situation didn't warrant this crime (which I chose not to report to law enforcement), yet he showed zero remorse whilst confronted.  In fact, in lieu of offering any sort of an apology regarding his actions, he instead regaled me with nonsensical accusation after accusation, all of which ran the gamut from me myself, my wife (who been assisting with filing the HOA tax return), and anything else he could think of that had any inkling of connection to Rob.

Finally, after ten or so minutes of listening to him berate me, he finally relinquished the checkbook / checkcard as my VP and I stood frenchfryed within his breakfast room.  (That truly was a Sunday afternoon I'll never forget!)

I ended up serving as Prez of the HOA board for another 4-5 years sans this man (or really anyone else) serving alongside.  It was a tough road.  Volunteer work like that (if it's done well) takes a toll on one's emotional health.  I learned firsthand that it truly is a thankless job and that you're absolutely not better off managing it alone.

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Now, fast forward to today.

My former Secretary - Treasurer is now 60ish and I'm 51.  I've not served formally on our 'hood's HOA board since 2010, though I do sort of hold a President Emeritus consulting role.  

Unsurprisingly, my former Secretary - Treasurer no longer sports the creatine-enhanced muscular bod, though I must admit, he also doesn't look like the typical early-60s (grossly overweight) Mississippian.  And (strangely to me), he now owns a dog.  As far as I know, he's still married, and his (now adult) only child is likely still living at home (she's mentally handicapped).

How do I know this?

Over the past six months or so, starting out very sporadically, but now once or twice daily, this former volunteer colleague has been walking said dog religiously throughout our tight knit 'hood.  

It's important to keep in mind that I haven't seen this man face-to-face (despite the fact that he & his fam continued to live one street over) in over 17 years.  

As such, our cul-de-sac is one of nine stubby appendages that he ventures down.  And regarding our abode, we've considerably more frontage than most everyone else therein, therefore his opportunity to steal a passing glance is - due to sight lines - unimpeded.  

During the first few times we encountered each other (as he briskly strolled by), I didn't even recognize him.

But then he politely said my name during one of his walk-bys.  

"Hello, Rob."

?!?!?

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In summary, I'm trying to stay focused on the good that came from knowing / volunteering alongside this man - versus the hurt - whilst remembering that I too am not the same man I once was.  

At the same time, I'm leery.  For I never imagined he would have the gumption to show his face again, all these years later, much less make a regular routine of walking by my house.

It's as if he simply cannot get enough of me.  But why?  I'm the one he heaped all that blame on before.  Couldn't he simply choose to not traverse down our cul-de-sac?

This is truly the weirdest blasts from the past I've ever encountered.  

Here's to our respectful future...what might it hold?  I'm very thankful to have this opportunity to reset at this very different stage of life.

What is God calling me to do now relative to this past relationship, particularly from the standpoint of who I was back then versus who I am today?  I've been shaped (re?) by so many circumstances / relational forces (Samson Society, etc.) throughout our time apart.  My outlook therein is dramatically different as a result.

Perhaps his too has experienced similar upgrading.  Will I ever be privy to knowing or will he simply be a regularly scheduled program (he and his pooch) as he traverses his daily route through our 'hood?

Why Aren't There More Mormons Involved Within Samson Society?

I think it has to do with stigma more than anything else.  

What is stigma?

A mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person.

Mormons are high, high, high performers.  As such, they're typically VERY concerned about avoiding being stigmatized.  

Samson Society is a gang of merry Christian men who celebrate (have a great time doing) recovery.  In so many ways, we're paradoxical due to our approach (attitude).  It's as if we embrace (laugh-off) the stigma wholeheartedly, having come to understand that being stigmatized isn't at all in line with healthy recovery.  

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Weekend before last, I met a new(comer) Samson guy within my go-to, virtual Samson Society meeting.  During the after-meeting, he asked me to be his Silas.  I replied by thanking him before requesting that he think / pray about choosing Rob for one week.  He did so, and now I'm his Silas.

Firstly, I asked him for his story.  I had that within 24 hours.  

It wasn't long before he divulged (he recorded the majority of his story within an audio file) that he's a lifelong member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (two-year mission, BYU alum).  

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The first Mormon I ever met was an associate architecture professor at Mississippi State University (the year was 1994).  The attribute I recall mostly about his man was his work ethic.  It was unbelievable (compared to his professor peers).  The other attribute that stood out was his humility / meekness / kindness.  

How I knew he was Mormon, I don't remember, but I'm assuming it was whispered around not long after classes started my fourth year.  As such, I always did feel sorry for this man from the standpoint of being such the (fervent) religious anomaly within small-town Mississippi.  

Nonetheless, he was just as much of a hard ass as the other professors (if not harder).  He came - this close - to failing me relative to my final fourth year project due to it being "incomplete" (his words).

What I have continued to admire about this professor is he's stayed the course at MSU's School of Architecture.  Year after year, he's continued to teach / lead, and I believe he's still going strong.

That's persistence within a less-than-ideal (for him) environment.

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I'm excited to be this Mormon's Silas.  I've always wanted to befriend a Mormon, but have never had the opportunity.  (We've never even had any Mormon missionaries come to our door.)  

And now, one just approached me - out of the blue - during the Samson Society "Brain Changers" meeting.  Wow.  I feel immensely blessed.  

Please pray for me as I walk with my new friend as his Silas.  I'm looking forward.  (Samson Society truly is a very big pond.)

Unpretentious Exposure Then Rebuke

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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One last story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is this possible?

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

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

(No Longer In) Bondage To The Thrust

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I honestly don't know.  

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

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

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

Let me be more specific.

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

To take that statement a step further...

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

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

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

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

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

Lagniappe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Attempting To Put the Kibosh On POTENTIAL Sexual Tension Within Silas Relationships (Addressing That New Script Verbiage)

Within the last (30) days, the Samson Society meeting script (available online to virtual meeting facilitators) has been updated to include some pointed language (within the part that speaks to obtaining a Silas).  

The initial iteration of that inclusion read something like this:

"The Samson Society is a place to practice nonsexual intimacy.  In order to promote the emotional growth of our members and protect spiritual health of our community, sexual communication or connection between members is prohibited.  Misconduct is addressed according to Matthew 18."

There are men who are on the hunt for relationships with other men that exist within sexual tension.  Specifically, they're looking for guys who they're sexually attracted to and vice versa, thereby generating the potential for segueing the initially platonic relationship into the sexual realm.  

When you're engaging with others online (outside of Samson Society), and this is your modus operandi, it's likely going to carry over, by default, whilst transitioning into our community.  That is, unless it's made clear up front that this MO isn't welcome.  

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I befriended a middle-aged Samson guy earlier this year who eventually made it clear - to me - that his intent aligned therein.  Keep in mind though that this was before the Samson Society meeting script change, and this man too was far more involved within other online Christian recovery ministries (most of which had already added statements like this one).   

Once this friend notified me regarding his present nurturing of a sexually tense relationship, he asked me to "hold him accountable" relative to "the integrity of their friendship".  

He described the relationship as follows:

"...in addition to that, I confess I have grown pretty infatuated with a friend I met through (other Christian men's ministry).  Like me, he has a lot of flexibility in his work and we've been able to talk a lot.  We have not done anything inappropriate, and both are committed to staying above the fray, but I confess I have been intensely attracted to him, and he to me.  I want to learn to keep this friendship but keep it safe."

He then responded accordingly to my initial (very negative) reaction:

"Rob, thank you so much for your response earlier.  I can understand why you would have such an intense reaction.  I hope you will still be my friend and keep me accountable if I continue with my friendship.  He and I have set strict boundaries of what we can talk about and what we will allow each other to see from a physical perspective.  We do need to talk about the time factor as we should limit that as well.  ...I would like to face rather than run from these feelings to understand what the real need is and be honest about that, rather than just ignore it."

Here's an excerpt from my final communication:

"I can't support you my friend, going forward, if you choose to continue with your infatuation relationship."

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This verbiage is needed / has been needed within the Samson Society meeting script for some time.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Volunteer Group Catch-22

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

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

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

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

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

Why is this?

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

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

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

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So, what does it mean to be annoying?

Annoying:  causing irritation or annoyance

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

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

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

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

So, what're your options?

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

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

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

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

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

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

-  Pray for the annoyer(s).

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

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

You've Been Active Within Samson Society One Year, Where Do You Go From Here?

I believe the first item to consider regarding your involvement within this unique parachurch men's ministry is your own personal wiring.  Are you at all wired to give of yourself?  If so, moving forward with Samson Society (meetings, retreats, serving other men as a Silas, etc.) absolutely will be smooth sailing / no doubt blessed by God.  If you're not the giver other guys are, it may be best to consider changing your approach.  Also, are you / have you remained comfortable with the format of the meetings?  If so, you're in good company.  I've been involved in Samson Society since 2014 and the format hasn't changed (though there are a handful of Samson sub-type formats now available).  If none of these suits your fancy, there're plenty of other parachurch men's ministries that offer other meeting formats.  I'd encourage you to explore those going forward (versus stepping out of recovery completely).

To expound on my first question:

Example:  You're the Samson guy who's not shared his (summarization) story with anyone within this community of men (over the course of one year), and you're constantly regurgitating (repeating) your travails ad nauseum relative to your continued plight.  And you see nothing awry with either of these facts...  

Too, you've not asked anyone for their story / actively worked to honestly befriend other Samson men.

If this is you, you're likely not a giver.  And that's okay.  Perhaps it best that you consider moving on in order to make room for someone else.  I'm of the opinion that Samson Society is primed for men who give freely of themselves.

I realize that may sound harsh, but this community isn't a good fit for every man.  Plus, timing is everything.  Hence, you may not be positioned as of late to give.

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Secondly, considering your "giving spirit" (we're making that assumption going forward), now that one year has passed, what can you now do / feel prepared to do relative to utilizing that giving spirit (on behalf of the community) that you could not have done at your outset?

Example:  You recognize where you're at with your own personal recovery enough to "branch out" and engage with new and fresh Samson groups (face-to-face / virtual).  Or, you choose to support Samson Society by facilitating a group.  Or, YOU BEGIN FINANCIALLY SUPPORTING SAMSON SOCIETY VIA A MONTHLY GIFT.

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Thirdly, you obtain a Silas.  

I myself didn't obtain my first Silas 'till 16 months into my Samson Society involvement (though I began serving as a Silas very early on).   

There's a lot of chatter about arbitrarily choosing another Samson guy to be your Silas at the outset, but it's malarkey.  I wouldn't attempt that approach.

Silas relationships are built solely on attraction.  Attraction between Samson men is built on respect.  Respect is a broad term.  Men usually respect each other based on aspiration / shared interests & goals.  It takes time for attraction to be recognized as distinct combined with time to muster the courage to ask another man to be your Silas.  Now that one year has passed, it's time to do just that.

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Fourthly, you need to take stock.  If you started this journey by challenging yourself to attend (90) Samson Society meetings in (90) days or somesuch, that's all well and good.  But now that one year has passed, you need to stop and think about what your needs are going forward.  

Because Samson Society is jam-packed with Type A extroverts, you're likely going to hear plentiful amounts of commentary regarding "what you need to do next", but this is all horseshit.  There's no set order of operation within this ministry.  That's why it offers so much continually (& on repeat).  

Perhaps it's time for you to throttle back on meetings?  Maybe it's time for you to write you story.  Perhaps it's time for you to attend the National Retreat, begin actively listening to the Pirate Monk podcast, reading recommended books, attending an Intensive weekend.  And on and on...

Take stock.

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Lastly, and this one's depressing to cite, you've got to stick with your guns relative to why you're here (you're here for your recovery).

Samson Society has a sister org dubbed "The Sarah Society".  Modeled after Samson Society, it was established to serve wives of Samson guys.  Unfortunately, it's been rife with interpersonal conflict (gossip) that's impacted its effectiveness.  

Having been a part of this community of men for one year, you've now officially "been around the block" with a posse of broken men.  You've met with them weekly (sometimes on more than one occasion), therefore you know them & their situation quite well (particularly considering the personal content).  You may have even traveled to an Intensive weekend that many of them too were a part of.  

Lots and lots of good 'ol fashioned together time!

And this can breed the temptation to "cross pollinate" (gossip) between Samson friends.  Do not fall into this trap.  

As your mother once said, "If you don't have something good to say about someone, don't say anything at all."  And to add to that, don't be divulging details (without their explicit permission) about other men's stories to other men.  Instead, stay focused on the man - at hand - and his story, his needs, like one of many sub-folders on your desktop.

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In summary:

1.  Are you a giver?

2.  What are you equipped to do now versus where you were at a year prior?

3.  Obtain a Silas.

4.  Take stock of your recovery.

5.  Avoid gossip / tribalism / falling into a Samson clique of guys (this is not middle school)

A Wife's (Marital) Sexual Charms / Scorecard = A Husband's Sexual Faithfulness To His Marriage...!?!

Is the wife in anyway responsible for her husband's faithfulness within their marriage?  That's the ultimate question as it pertains to the title of this post.

You've likely heard husbands comfortably saddle wives with the responsibility of keeping their libidos satiated / tamed.  Some of these men are pastors who've boldly made those claims from the pulpit.  

Again, Is she responsible in this regard as the wife of her husband?

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This is about as cut-&-dry an issue (for some men) as making weekly date nights a priority for married couples, or husbands bringing their wives flowers once a week.  

And we men, overall, like cut-&-dry.  It simplifies by shirking the responsibility solely onto someone else.

A recent "experiental" video that was presented (as our topical jumping off point) within the virtual Samson Society meeting I regularly attend featured Mr. Robbie Harvey (YouTube) talking about serendipitously "depositing love / goodness" into his wife (daily) and receiving two-fold love / goodness in return.  Every time.  Now that's manly cut-&-dryness.  It's reliable and easy to understand whilst being quite covertly manipulative / passive aggressive.

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If you were to look at marriage as a kaleidoscope relationship that's rotating (& thereby transforming) - to some degree - daily (if not hourly) versus a static, formulaic program, I'm convinced that it not only will be seen much more accurately but appreciated / extolled far more relative to its ever-changing, complex beauty.

As such, blanket active / reactive statements regarding marriage would immediately be pushed aside as inappropriate / unfair / stupid.

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I'm convinced that Satan lures husbands into this over-simplified fray by exploiting their hardwiring as problem solvers who may very well be biased towards performance (as many men are).

If that's you, be wary of this sort of dumbass thinking towards marriage.  It's dangerous, ineffective, and a huge waste of time.  Unless you're married to a robot woman.

Harnessing The Intense Pain Of Rejection To Justify Revengeful Murder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lagniappe

Grit Required (Samson Guy Job Description)

Suicidal ideation is never to be taken lightly.  

Let me state firstly that when I initially walked into a Samson Society meeting back in August of 2014, I certainly sensed that fostering friendship was at THE CORE of the ministry, and that these friendships would be borne out of GREAT need (as a result of men being either within or having experienced the bitter taste of crisis). 

Prior to this, I myself had quite recently dealt with intrusive suicidal thoughts (over the course of a handful of months), and in actuality, it was those oppressive ideations that ultimately fostered me into said Samson meeting (kudos to my dad for his help).

But I suppose it was my naivety that cloistered me into suppressing any notions of actively befriending other Samson men who might similarly walk this dark road.

Because here we are, and no doubt, suicidal ideation is one of Satan's most widespread ploys.

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There's a local (Metro Jackson) "Christian" periodical that features the serial writings of a therapist (who just happens to be paralyzed and subsequently wheelchair-bound), and he's not at all shy about commenting on his longstanding confrontation with suicidal ideation.  

It can be unsettling reading his work, and I'd be willing to bet a dollar that most readers quickly take a detour whilst encountering his willingness to nonchalantly reveal this particular roosted personal demon. 

Now that I think about it, it's probably not too different from hearing someone announce that they're same-sex attracted, particularly if they're active within a fundamentalist church / presenting themselves as a "traditional, Biblical sexual ethic" believer.  

Nonetheless, suicidal ideation is a tough, tough subject that needs to be discussed on a regular basis.

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The primary descriptor for Rob is either level-headedness or arrogant asshole, and I first came to realize this during my teen years.  The Operator of the Chick-A-Fil I was employed at made this observation.  

I believe a lot of this trait (pick one) can be attributed to my best friend during that same era.  His influence was paramount in this regard.  Greg was unflappable when it came to the stress of standing up to opposition / difficulties of any kind.

My mom, too, genuinely displayed this cool-headed quality (level-headedness).  I couldn't help but be influenced by her modeling of this approach.  

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Nonetheless, you needn't be a Vulcan to be an effective Samson guy, though grit cannot be underestimated in its effectiveness relative to handling hard topics / situations.

And this is because you're going to face many of those (either past or present) as you walk alongside your Samson brothers.  Grit is simple determination to keep pressing forward no matter how difficult the circumstances become.  It's a mindset versus a character trait, and it can be called upon by ANYONE.

Regarding walking alongside a brother whose faced / facing suicidal ideation, I cannot stress the need for grit enough.  For there're simply few other topics more inexplicitly depressing, worrisome, triggering (I hate that word!) than this one.  

Why muster the determination to not back down from carrying the weight of this macabre topic?

Because, everyone who's brave enough to step into Samson Society needs to be seen.  No matter where there at for such a time as that.