| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Friday, July 28, 2023
"The No Bull Briefing" - July 2023
Thursday, July 27, 2023
Is There Any More Hellacious Location To Consume Porn / Masturbate Than A Port-O-Potty In The Desert Sands Of The Middle East?
I can't think of any.
Every day at 5 PM CST, like clockwork, I hear from a young Samson guy who's been in deep seated bondage to lust for most of his life. He and I have been chatting (telephone calls) for +/-1 year now. And interestingly enough, we've only spent a handful of hours together face-to-face throughout that same period of time.
We came to know each other via "Make Thursdays Great Again" which is the Price Is Right of virtual Samson Society meetings. As such, like the TV show, not only is it high energy but it's easy to sit back and simply spectate (with a big grin on your face) amongst the throngs.
I moved away from that virtual group and haven't looked back, but my hope is he'll soon be reengaging therein (schedule permitting). It's a perfectly comfortable landing spot for him for such a time as this.
-------------------------
When he and I chat daily, we understandably never talk for too long. His schedule is tight. Plus, when you're as faithful as he is relative to communication (and twelve months has passed), an efficient routine / pattern develops.
In this young man's past is active military duty. Specifically, years spent deployed to the Middle East where he risked life and limb for not only our country but for those where he was stationed. Since I've no experience as a soldier, I'm always fascinated to learn of his own (when he's comfortable divulging).
A question arose yesterday, (7/26) regarding where exactly he chronically consumed porn whilst deployed in the Middle East, and he blithely stated, "in the port-o-potties".
This admission gripped me as I tried to imagine doing this day after day there within that already bleak environment.
He went on to say that every soldier knew that the port-o-potties existed for such uses.
!?!?!?
My head spun around five or six times when he divulged this to me, and in many ways, it's still spinning.
I cannot think of a more pathetic, hellacious location to consume porn / masturbate than a port-o-potty located within the god forsaken desert sands of the Middle East. Yet, this was his everyday routine. Particularly as it related to managing the emotional stress of being barely an adult combined with all the responsibilities of soldiering there within that complicated conflict.
My young Samson friend lost his best friend within that environment too. He rarely speaks of it, yet I know it haunts him and will likely do so throughout the remainder of his life.
-------------------------
I mentioned in my previous post that bathroom stalls were my go-to in high school / college relative to masturbation. I cannot over emphasize the amount of shame this routine imbued me with. For is there anywhere on planet Earth more CLINICAL and more IMPERSONAL than a commercial bathroom stall?
There is. It's a freestanding port-o-potty.
-------------------------
As young men, my Samson brother and I chose to strip any semblance of dignity from our souls by taking part in this public restroom routine. I clearly see / am reminded of that now.
What self-destructive, hyper-pathetic traps we so easily fall into within our youth, particularly as it related to our sexuality / libido / managing emotional pain. Patterns that laid the groundwork for potentially so much more emotional anguish / regret to come (as we aged forward).
It is no wonder how easily deceived (internally / privately) we young men can become regarding the very expression of our sexual selves as males. All due to the fact that this hugely important part of our lives - as young men / teenagers - may very well become relegated to settings designed for nothing more than filthiness and refuse.
Desperation breeds ingenuity, yet ingenuity / creativity can at times be its own long-term undoing (just because you can doesn't mean you should).
Please pray for me as I continue to walk with this dear Samson brother, learning about myself (as much as he himself) along the way. Eyes peeled.
Wednesday, July 26, 2023
Tuesday, July 25, 2023
"I Found Jesus In Prison..." Ethan #4
Stephen's Note:
The November 14th article that is featured here references Kairos; Ethan went through Kairos in October of 2012, and that is where he and I first met. I served on the weekend that he talks about in this article.
~S
"For it is true, we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so, it's those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love them completely without completely understanding."
Norman Maclean ~ A River Runs Through It
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?
-------------------------
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.
--------------------------
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...
-------------------------
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.
.jpg)
Monday, July 24, 2023
Oh, Henry...
Of all the Samson guys I've had the privilege to befriend, Henry was the one I learned from the most. He showed up at a face-to-face Samson meeting I was facilitating (2018?), having been invited by a mutual friend. Immediately, he asked for me to be his Silas (he'd been smitten by Rob's authentic self, crassness, and propensity to encourage), and from there, we were off and running.
Henry was unlike any Samson guy I'd ever met. Eventually, I discovered why. He was depressed...perhaps even clinically depressed and had been throughout much of his life. In spite of his youthful vitality (he was in his late 20s), it was apparent that something was off relative to this extremely intelligent, ambitious young man.
Henry was very successful for his age. He had a beautiful wife, multiple small children and a position at a large international corporation that paid handsomely. But, like so many people who struggle with depression, Henry was easily agitated and very moody. Too, he simply had little, if any spark, at all, for living life. As such, he had few friends / little interests in making friends. His stock rejection recusal was as follows: "It's their loss, not mine..."
Because of his seemingly lifelong depressed state, he medicated himself with sex / lust, and this brought on tremendous guilt (Henry was a devout Christian). Particularly considering that he was a homeschooled pastor's son (who loved his parents fervently) who just happened to be reared within the Deep South.
The humdinger regret for Henry was his past (years-long) fornication with his sweet wife. They went about this whilst being in college together (he was a commuter / she was living within the dorm). The shame / regret therein regarding this carnal disobedience to God's word seemed to have stained Henry's soul permanently. Yet, the virgin excitement / passion had effectively worked as a distraction to his depression.
As a run up to this, Internet porn / sexual fantasies effectively distracted too as Henry dealt with run-of-the-mill adolescent (high school years) rejection from both the opposite (romantic relationships) and same (platonic) sex. Once he was gifted a laptop from his parents, (remember he was a saintly homeschooler) he dove right into the online fun - unfettered / unmonitored.
Henry rationalized this behavior via what he described as "anger towards God" (primarily as a result of romantic rejection), but I never bought it. Instead, I now believe it was solely his depressed state that he was looking to buoy against.
-------------------------
So, what did I learn from my then friend, Henry?
No amount of anything from me could truly help Henry because Henry refused to acknowledge his depression.
Too, Henry believed therapists were a waste of time.
I can remember actively attempting to encourage my friend, Henry (as a husband, father, worker bee), yet in spite of our friendship, it was apparent that everything within his field of view was marginalized by his depression.
Eventually, this young man turned on me via slander as he attempted to setback friendships I'd pre-Henry / concurrently established with mutual Samson guys. (This was his attempt to absolutely be IN THE RIGHT.)
From there, he stopped communicating with me.
-------------------------
Fast forward to today.
I have two active Samson friends who're taking prescription meds to manage clinical depression. Both are successful husbands / fathers / businessmen just as Henry was, yet both admitted (years before I had the privilege to befriend them) that there was something else going on - in the background of their minds, so to speak - that was hindering them day to day.
Both of these men talk openly about their meds and how they've found hope via their prescriptions. They also regularly meet with their psychiatrist regarding these drugs relative to being closely monitored therein.
How different would Henry's life might have looked had he been properly diagnosed and treated (as a teenager) for his depression? Specifically, would this homeschooled pastor's son chosen to not repeatedly fornicate (his greatest moral regret) with his girlfriend - within her dorm room, over a two-year period, in advance of their nuptials? Would he have been less susceptible to brood regarding nascent romantic rejection, thereby reducing the pull towards concretized, rebellious online habits (porn consumption)?
When I first befriended Henry, his marriage was on the rocks, due to him being captivated by a sultry female colleague at work and their "friendship" therein. This colleague was in no way a good fit for him, but he was so emotionally numb, she (her sultriness / mysteriously "mature" sensuality) was no doubt a fitting distraction to his mental illness.
And it's that word, distraction, that Henry was always looking for. In the end, I believe it too was all our friendship amounted to. For his depression was far greater than anything else within his life.
Oh, Henry. I pray you've sought out professional help.
"Restructuring Our Mental Image Of God" - JR Everhart
Try this exercise: Sit down and write out everything a warm and loving father should be to their children. This looks a little different from person to person because our needs are different. Don’t worry, God is big enough to meet them all. Once you have your list written out, read it as if you’re describing your Heavenly Father to a friend. In other words, this is just WHO HE IS without question.
Here’s what mine would look like:
“My father loves me so much he would work three jobs to make sure I’m taken care of. He would listen to me when I’m hurting and comfort my pain. He would celebrate my victories and weep with me at my defeats. He hates that I was abused as a child. He’s been very patient with me throughout my life considering my many mistakes (attempting to process abuse). He still smiles when he looks at me, even with full knowledge of all my failure. He doesn’t just love me… he likes me and sees the intentions of my heart. He’s strongest when I’m weak and need him, but also challenges me on the deepest levels to be the best version of myself I can be. He’s never distant when I stop long enough to listen for his voice. He hears my requests and knows what’s best for me far better than I do. Even when I get frustrated with him, because life’s not working out the way I think it should, he’s still patient and gentle with me. He never loses his temper with me because Jesus quenched his anger at Calvary for my cause. I admit to feeling quite unworthy of such a caring father. He’s loved me in times that I couldn’t even love myself. In times when I was lost in the dark carnival of this world. He never gave up on me. He’s restored me a million times and never once told me I wasn’t enough nor asked why I kept struggling with the same sin over and over. He only asks for a meal with me every day. A time to sit and chat about the day with him. He’s never ashamed to sit with me, and always considers my table to be the "cool kids' table". His love is so deep it makes me smile just thinking about it. I’ll never know why he loves me so much. I’m just thankful he does. Hence, I trust him with all my heart, mind, and soul!”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)