Recommended Reading - It's A Doozy, So Hang In There!

Savior or Stoics? Why Modern Men Look for Spiritual Wisdom Outside the Church (thegospelcoalition.org)

"The High Cost Of Transparency" - JR Everhart

That’s my sin hanging on the cross of Calvary.  It’s a symbolic display of all my darkness and evil placed on the shoulders of innocence and kindness.  Though ultimately it was my Heavenly Father who sacrificed / executed Jesus, it was the weight of my sin that killed him.  I was part of the mob crying out - "Crucify him!" - every time I refused to walk away from sin in my life.  I was the one that helped set a murderer free (Barabass) instead of Jesus, because he stood in the way of the things I loved so much about this world.  I was the evil ruler who doubted his truth.  It was me that spit in the face of God and said “only I can know what is truly right and wrong in this world…”  that if God loved me he’d stop judging my selfish desires, which is the only shred of comfort I can find from my trauma and pain.  I’m the one melting down my treasures God blessed me with to mold it into the God of my choosing.  Into the thing I worship over God's distant and vague “relationship”.  I then certainly mocked Jesus with my rebellion and twisted his truth to align with my own, exactly like the Pharisees did their law.  A little twist here and a little twist there, deforming God's requests for holiness into a perverted gospel that speaks religious dogma, only benefiting those lost in their own lustful pride for life.  My eyes are never satisfied and my heart holds nothing sacred.  I betrayed my brother and raped my sister while Jesus stood at the door of my heart knocking.  So, before I can ride my religious high horse into the sunset of sin, I must first stare into the face of what scares the hell out of me… Truth! 

It’s only in the face of my dying savior, weighted down by my sin, hanging on a bloody cross dying the worst kind of death for me, that I can even begin to understand his love for me.  It’s only through watching him suffer for my sin that I can understand the hope of the resurrection.  It’s only through a brokenness that reaches to my core that I can fully surrender all my evil desires to him. Understanding his great love is what ignites hope in me, helping me to see that I need his forgiveness each and every day. 

Oh, wretched sinner that I am… forgive me of my rebellion and pride!  Humble my heart and draw me closer to you.  I have no hope without you in my life.  I am tired of hurting the people I love, and need your wisdom to open my eyes to your truth.  Help me lord!  Have mercy on your servant, for I desire what is right but get so lost in the dark carnival of my desires.  Guide me Lord, and restore my soul. Shine your loving kindness on me and establish me as your faithful servant.  Open my eyes to your understanding and enlighten me to your will.  Build my faith, Jesus, and imprint your truth on my heart. Purify me and comfort me in times of temptation.  Reveal the enemy’s lies to me as if I was a 7-year-old, and set my feet on your solid rock.  Thank you, Lord for never giving up on me… in the wonderful name of Jesus… Amen.

You Are An Independent Contractor Within Samson Society

When I worked from '06 - '12 within a State of Mississippi position (staff architect), there was an independent contractor who'd been assigned to our division to provide procurement assistance (consultancy) relative to a comprehensive project management software package.  The purpose of this software was to digitize the procurement procedure we were mandated to follow (that had been for decades / was being executed solely on paper).  That procedure was mind-numbingly fastidious, as it should have been.  We were, after all, spending millions upon millions of dollars of State of Mississippi bond monies (planning / constructing / renovating state-owned buildings).  Hence, each and every step had to be signed off on by multiple departments, as the paperwork moved from person to person to person (until finally reaching the Director's inbox).

I actually liked the nuanced procedure we were required to follow.  It gave me firsthand confidence in (that portion of) our state government.  Plus, it effectively got the job done, even to the point of accommodating emergency circumstances (somewhat well) if need be.  

But all the while, on the perimeter of our well-oiled bureaucracy was our independent contractor.  She too was an integral part of our department, though her work obviously carried with it few (policies & procedures) constraints. 

As such, she first and foremost, was able to move mostly at her own pace.  Secondly, she was able to do this having free reign relative to our departmental processes.  And the luxury therein for her was how accommodating her freedom allowed her to be on behalf of her end goal.  

And believe you me, she met her end goal.  I was there when it all came together, and though it wasn't a panacea, the solution she worked so hard to find for us checked off all the boxes.  From there, she continued to hone her independence by refining / updating / upgrading the (procedural) maturing we'd all benefited from in kind.  

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Every Samson guy who's engaged within the Samson Society is an independent contractor.  The Samson Charter (The Fact, The Path, etc.) is our policy / procedure.  As such, we're encouraged to move fluidly therein.  

Our end goal is to invest in our recovery whilst not being constrained by an established hierarchical order.  And the beauty within that fluidity has to do with PROVIDING THE HOLY SPIRIT WITH FULL CREDENCE TO GUIDE / DIRECT YOU AT HIS DISCRETION.  All the while teaching you of his love as your own personal journey orchestrally unfolds.

There are men who simply cannot / will not / refuse to embrace the role of independent contractor.  As such, they're not Samson guys.  Perhaps they're men's club members or somesuch, but they're not Samson guys.

In closing, Samson Society is awash with opportunity for God to lead you in multiple directions (people, groups, circumstances).  Nonetheless, your Heavenly Father has an established Path he's laid out for you.  Pray for courage and insight into what that journey will eventually revelate to be.  

Stop planning.  Instead, listen and obey.  And be in awe of how God works out your own personal recovery.

Recommended Reading - 40% increase!

New Study Links Weightlifting With Longevity, Lower Risk Of Death (fatherly.com)

Being (Intentionally) Groomed

 

Throughout my boyhood ('till I left for college), I had my haircut at this establishment.  It all started when my dad brought me to his barber when I was very small (in this location), and it was that man whom I only recall cutting my hair throughout the late '70s / '80s (about every 6 weeks).

My dad's barber, Slyvester, was tall and handsome with permed, shoulder-length blonde locks (he resembled a blonde-version of Eddie Rabbitt).  He was always drinking herbal teas whilst popping vitamins (I had no idea what either of these were at the time).  Unfailingly, he had the top three buttons undone of his shirts (putting his thick, sandy blonde chest hair on full display).  He definitely looked like a rockstar (in my eyes) in spite of the fact that he leaned much more '70s than '80s.  (I was too young to know otherwise.)  To me, he was simply Slyvester, our barber, and I felt completely comfortable in his presence since he and this shop were so familiar.

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Like many barbers, Slyvester was chatty, and because there were 5-6 barbers who shared this open-air shop, he always kept his voice low to the point of it being a murmur.  

When Slyvester would bring up inappropriate topics (explicit homosexual sex scenes in studio films, finding & subsequently screening discarded gay porn VHS tapes, etc.), I'd absolutely no sense he was FIGURATIVELY grooming me.  Or, perhaps, in order to simply perpetuate arousal (his own).  He was so smooth and confident in how he relayed these weird tidbits of personal info to me (as if I was his confidante / best friend) that I had no idea there was really anything awry ('till much later).  Plus, it was all so very new and exciting!  I remember always coming away intrigued.

Hence, I can speak from personal experience.  This really happened to Rob.  Looking back, as a boy, I was a perfect target for being exploited in this regard due to my naivety / innocence / sense of security.

What eventually tipped me off (during my late teens) as to his abject creepiness had to do with (of all things) my pervasively thick neck hair.  Slyvester began commenting on it (repeatedly) as he'd use his electric trimmers to skillfully remove the yarny mass.  Taking into account how many necks he'd trimmed as a barber, it began to strike me odd that mine was as uniquely hairy as he implied.  (Spotlighting Slyvester's neck hair fetish?)

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Once I moved to Starkville in 1990 (college), I eventually found a local barber (female hair stylist to be exact) and began getting my hair cut there.  As such, my time with Slyvester diminished until eventually it ceased altogether.  As far as I know, my father continued to patronize Slyvester's barber chair for a few years longer until one day I recall him referring to "his new barber" (at this same shop).

What's really scary to me is how vulnerable (impressionable) I was to Slyvester's somewhat frequent yet inappropriate tales / commentary (most of which were biased towards homsex).  

The fact is children aren't equipped to properly adjudicate - for themselves - perpetrators / abusers.  Especially when their parents entrust them to said perps.  Please know that for me, it makes me angry to ruminate on this.  

As such, it's the primary reason Angie and I took extra precautions whilst leaving our children in church nurseries (while we attended Sunday School / worship), and never, ever allowed them to participate in sleepovers (under any circumstances).  From there, we forbade our children from "owning" smartphones 'till they were sixteen years old, and absolutely drew the line relative to their participation in social media of any ilk.  

In closing, with the ubiquity of sexually explicit material online, I urge parents to be that much more vigilant.  There are so many opportunities for children to be exploited, and it can happen right under parents' noses, at their schools, churches, daycares, barber shop.  

Regarding my situation with this barber, it would have made all the difference if my father had asked me firsthand what Sylvester and I dialogued about regularly, and from there, had the curiosity (& interrogation skills) to drill down further relative to drawing out the harrowing details.  Me being the verbose, curious boy I was, I've no doubt I would have appreciated the opportunity to confidently regurgitate what was being whispered routinely into my lowered ears.

Re-Do This For Me, My Brother, & Let Not My (Or Your) Experience Be Anything Other Than My (Your) Very Own (Part 2)

Part 1 can be found here.

Another Samson Society "Men's Intensive" weekend just wrapped up in rural Holmes County, MS today.  I drove out there this afternoon to retrieve one of the attendees who needed a lift to JAN for a flight out.  This was the exact time of year I attended a "Deer Camp" weekend - at that exact location - back in 2014.  During the few minutes I was there this afternoon, I was able to see firsthand how the compound's many expansions have paid dividends relative bolstering a true sense of place.  There's now a sizable bathhouse, a lovely, covered seating area, and an impressive multi-purpose space (under construction, but very close to completion).  As such, this venue truly is maturing into more of a proper religious retreat center, relative to its amenities and functionality, versus coming across more as a franchise location for the Branch Davidians.  

The Samson guy I chaperoned to JAN was fast asleep within 15 minutes of our car ride out.  His head fell forward firstly, but eventually, he leaned back and snoozed quietly there in the passenger seat.  Today's steady precipitation had saturated the roadways.  As such, my Toyota cocooned his lean, still frame as the wipers repetitively cleared the windshield over the course of the hour drive.  

I couldn't help but be reminded of my own departure from that same place back in February of '14.  As a sort of benediction, the group of +/-30 men had been asked by Mr. Phil Hardin to identify an object to take with us that would serve as a reminder of why we'd come to the retreat.  I hastily chose a Wendy's restaurant kid's cup (litter) and announced (in turn) that it represented my "inner boy" who I was determined to now seek out intentionally.  I distinctly remember nonchalantly discarding that cup upon my return home in reflection of my pessimistic future outlook.  

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What remains in my mind, even after today's revisit, is how out of place that rural Holmes County venue made / makes me feel.  And of course, that's due to the impression it made all those years ago, during a time in my life when I was suffering tremendously.  

That emotional hijacking that Rob was experiencing (due to my September '13 job loss) took every fiber of my being to keep from overwhelming me.  I liken it to a swarm of killer bees that I was constantly having to flee from, yet that I could never completely outrun.  Therefore, I had nothing to spare of myself in regard to gratitude or serendipity.  Hence, I only saw black & white during this suffering.  And it was that polarized outlook which reliably stamped (toxified) my vision of this place permanently. 

And that sucks, but it also speaks to just how hopelessly shitty things were for Rob back then.  

It truly serves me, in a very profound way, as an Ebenezer.

Recommended Reading

 Single but Not Lonely: Living Well While Unmarried | Desiring God