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 https://thehill.com/blogs/blog-briefing-room/3868557-most-young-men-are-single-most-young-women-are-not/

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"Jesus, I Belong To You" - JR Everhart

I’m a big fan of Brennan Manning and The Ragamuffin Gospel.  A prayer that Brennan always talked about praying was a simple little sentence “Jesus, I belong to you…”  He would repeat this for hours.  It’s a huge statement and establishes unconditional surrender to one's Savior.  That being said, there’s a conflict within my lifestyle as of late that doesn’t walk out my confession. 

I went on a date the other day and it went amazing!  Sadly, the end result was that it didn’t pan out for a variety of reasons.  But what was shocking to me was as follows:  How quick I was to make her my new god to worship!  I’m ashamed to even admit this, but I need to ruminate on it because it’s revealing something deeply flawed in my personality.  

It’s no new revelation to me that I’ve always worshiped the women in my life.  Especially sexually!  Nothing would make me abandon everything else in my life than a volcanic sex life with a woman.  A woman that would saddle up relative to my sexual fantasies - whenever or wherever I so choose.  This "sex woman" goddess was all controlling, costing me hundreds of thousands of dollars, and my sanity on many occasions.  After ten years in recovery, I really thought I had a better handle on this, but it’s VERY obvious to me that I’m still a slave to my flesh in this way.  

Regarding the date (aforementioned relationship), I was so disappointed in its eventual outcome.  We didn’t have sex, but had it not imploded the next day, we definitely would have found ourselves in bed.  It blows my mind how quickly I just went back to the way I used to be!  It’s like it’s built into who I am at the deepest level.  I felt like one of the Israelites melting down their jewelry, working towards creating a golden calf.  All the while complaining about how life in Egypt had been better than the life God was trying to steer toward.  

In the end, this revelation has been a huge trigger to my porn sobriety.  Hence, I went straight off the rails shortly thereafter. 

It’s times like this that I can understand Paul’s Roman’s 7:24 frustration. “Oh, what a miserable person I am!  Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?”  

Ever feel that way?  I do most days.  And some preach that our struggles are discipline-based issues.  That we are not practicing enough self-control.  If that were the case, the most disciplined people on the planet would not struggle with sin.  Take Olympic athletes or bodybuilders.  People who’re accustomed to progress through pain, yet some of which still struggle with the same idolatry that I do.  It’s not a discipline issue, it’s a heart issue.  Our hearts are polluted with the stench of this world.  Yes, we are recreated beings in the wonderful light of Christ, blah blah blah - fill in whatever churchy language you want here - to find peace in the dark.  But the truth is we all still have darkness in our hearts.  Just look at all the fallen Christian leaders or even the leaders that have deconstructed their faith.  I blame religious dogma for this the same way Jesus pointed at the Pharisees and blamed them.  We live in a society that rewards the self-sufficient and the church, at times, can be no different!  There is often little room to be broken in modern religious eyes; otherwise your faith may very well be called into question.  Yes, I believe your life should reflect your faith but sometimes God's working and doing his best work inside of our problems, suffering, and pain.  That’s still a life reflecting our faith in Christ.  It's reflecting a faith that Jesus is enough, no matter what.  Progress is messy, and I’m no different.  I’m a mess most of the time.  But, I’m less of a mess than I was before.  Eleven years ago, I would have never stopped to think that my obsession with a new love interest could be getting between God and I.  That’s progress…messy, but still measurable progress.  So I’ll take it, even if it is framed by disappointment. 

I’ll leave you with this hope.  If you have never read The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning, I would highly suggest it.  And finally, Biblically, it’s only within Romans 7:25 and 8:1 that we find any answers for this insanity of sin.

In closing... 

“Thanks be to God!  Our answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord.  Now you too, dear reader, see how it is: In my mind I really want to obey God’s law, but because of my sinful nature I am a slave to sin.  So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.”  It’s always through the cross we are sanctified, not by our ability to maintain correct behavior.  We honor God by focusing on Jesus, and therein aligning our motives with his word.  Anything that doesn’t measure up beyond that is covered by God's grace toward us THROUGH his son, Jesus.  “Jesus, I belong to you… even in my brokenness…” 

Cruising In Arkansas

I did extensive traveling through The Natural State earlier this week.  Around 8 PM CST one evening, whilst traveling I-40 W, I had to stop and urinate.  Being almost an hour out from my destination in northwest AR, I took advantage of a Rest Area.  A very remote Rest Area.  

The first thing I noticed as I rolled into my parking spot was how lacking the exterior lighting was.  As such, there was only one other vehicle (full-size pickup) therein.  Immediately after shutting off my Toyota, I exited and walked the short jaunt into the men's room.  It's important to note that I'd frequented this Rest Area in years past whilst making this same trip ('22, '21, '20) but always during daylight hours.  As such, the prison-grade plumbing fixtures inside worked to instantly refresh my memory, reminding me all the while of just how out-of-the-way this particular Rest Area truly was.

I could hear the door shut on the pickup truck that was parked outside just as I entered the men's room, and about halfway through my steady stream piss (at one of the stainless urinals), I was approached by its driver who'd obvious nefarious intentions.

The middle-aged man positioned himself adjacent at another urinal whilst simultaneously peering directly at / examining my exposed genitals.  Whilst doing so, he asked how I was doing through a wide smile, his body now turned obliquely towards me.

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Cruising isn't something I've encountered too often within the Samson community "pedigree", though one of the first Samson guys I befriended back in 2014 did / had dabbled in it.  I vividly remember him describing seemingly going into a bit of a trance whilst traveling the roadways, always on the lookout for other men who're similarly "tuned in" / needy.  

What was particularly disturbing about his tales had to do with him behaving this way whilst traveling with his family (wife and four children) to youth sporting events (traveling soccer team).  He described one episode within a chain hotel restroom (adjacent to the lobby) where he encountered a fellow who exposed himself before asking him if he'd like to join him upstairs in his room.

The stranger apparently was sporting some sort of a genitalia leather harness or somesuch.  This shocked my friend out of his trance-like state, recognizing the fact that the man had no doubt "dressed his junk" before coming downstairs - before breakfast - to cruise.  My Samson friend, then remembering how saddled he was with fam, politely declined the stranger's advances whilst all the while secretly enjoying the momentary attention / seedy excitement.

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I've only frequented one "back room" area within an adult bookstore, and that was in Houston, TX decades ago.  I was so naive at that age as to what those dedicated areas were designed for.  At the time, all I was interested in was screening gay porn (this was pre-Internet).  Thankfully, relative to the time of day I visited (mid-morning), there was no one else present (at least that I could see or hear) amongst the plywood stalls.  I remember randomly choosing a spot and watching a few minutes of gay porn (screened via the behind plexiglass CRT) before leaving discreetly (with an empty prostate and a boatload of guilt).  

Too, I came away feeling really, really dirty.  Dirtier than I'd ever felt up until that point.  This experience kept me from ever returning to one of those sad spaces with the bare, colored A lamps dangling from the ceiling joists.  

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Our western lives are mundane.  There's no arguing that point.  There're no wars to fight.  Our healthcare system provides a solution to a myriad of aches and pains / fear of early death / disability.  Refrigeration keeps our foods safe and unspoiled.  HVAC systems keep us cozy.  Transportation networks whisks us to wherever we see fit.  We're consistently entertained / distracted relative to Hollywood / video games / social media.  We have either insurance or the government as our proverbial safety nets.  Kafka's The Castle really does sum up much of our existence.

Cruising is rooted in excitement.  Excitement that comes from the suspense of a chance encounter, breaking up the mundanity of modern life.

There's no intention of developing a routine via cruising.  Few, if any words are ever spoken.  Instead, it's all physical, all sexual, all excitement for those select few moments / minutes.

And, I believe, cruising can be a hard, hard habit to break.  For once your brain becomes hooked on this "trance-like" mentality, it's almost constantly looking for the opportunity to "shift into gear" secretly and on the fly.  As such, men who travel, with plenty of time on their hands, are often suspect to lead this covert, very dangerous life.

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After I'd finished peeing, I promptly zipped up my fly and exited the bathroom.  By the time I'd made it back to my parked Toyota, the man who'd been so obviously interested in my junk emerged too from the restroom.  As I drove away, I stopped short of allowing myself to fall prey to Satan's accusations regarding why this man had chosen Rob to physically proposition.  

Just a few minutes later, by God's grace, I was chatting with a new Samson friend.  And this went on for the majority of the final leg of my drive.  The dialogue eased my mind.

The following day, I called my Silas and immediately relayed the story to him.  He listened intently which is what I appreciate most about him.  

He'd never heard the phrase "cruising".  

You're welcome, brother.

My Story - Eddie Moore

My story starts as all of ours does, at prebirth.  As such, when my mom was carrying me, she had a cyst growing on an ovary that was "putting on weight" faster than I was.  As such, it had to come out before I did.  This was uncharted territory relative to performing surgery on a pregnant woman sans triggering a miscarriage.  Nonetheless, the surgery was a success, but I'm convinced that it did traumatize me (in utero), and that trauma manifested itself within me (as an infant) as an attachment disorder.  Most babies want to be held continually; I wanted to be left alone.  In fact, I was far happier when I was left alone with my toys. 

I discovered pornography when I was around 10 - 11 years old in the form of periodicals stashed behind my parents' house.  The photos were a combination of both enthralling and shameful.  Reflexively, I shredded these mags immediately after perusing them, but I later regretted doing so (wanting to indulge further).  Throughout my life, the consumption of pornographic images has been a "glancing blow" experience for me.  I would occasionally invest my time / attention to it, but would come to find that I was only interested for a short stint.  From there, I would lose interest completely and walk away from it.  That being said, even today, while I don't habitually seek out porn, I occasionally still hear the Sirens' call.  

Throughout my childhood, my family worshipped inside the "Christian Taliban" (a term I heard Nate Larkin use once which I came to love), formally known as the United Pentecostal Church.  Since I always chose to be a bit of a religious contrarian, I was often considered suspect within their tribe, and as a result, I found myself nursing an awful lot of church hurt.

I married my wife in 1994 (we had known each other for about seven years previously, sustaining a platonic relationship).  She and I were eventually told that we couldn't have biological children.  Therefore, in 2007, we adopted a little girl.  Sometime after that, I molested our daughter.  This act started piling on internal shame.  This mountain of shame began to coalescence with the walls of isolation I had started erecting from the aforementioned church hurt.  

In 2015 our family set out on a road trip.  About halfway through that, our daughter became enraged with us.  This eventually served as a catalyst for her to divulge to her therapist as to what had happened between she and I.  That resulted in my wife and I getting divorced and criminal charges being filed.  Say hello to Eddie, the level two registered sexual offender.  

Both the divorce as well as the criminal charges added to my shame and isolation.  Interestingly enough, the divorce did not bring about its intended purpose (some semblance of healing), and as a result, we were remarried 3 years later.  When we were engaged to be remarried, we went to a church where we had several friends.  Too, I had known the pastor during my childhood.  His reaction to our story wasn't what I'd hoped for.  Essentially, the result of that dialogue was him encouraging me to definitely attend church but not the church he was pastoring.  

My reaction was as follows: That was fine by me (hugely disappointed / more shame); I felt that I didn't need church anyway.  From there, we moved on to another church.  At this point, I felt compelled to put boundaries up to protect myself emotionally. We went there for a year and a half with zero (church) friends successfully coming alongside.  From there, I dived into Samson Society.  In doing so, I was able to remove the mask of shame whilst beginning to take down the walls of isolation.  

One of the men in this church we were now attending had reached out to me a handful of times during those 1.5 years.  I now chose to reciprocate.  We ended up sharing our stories, and I had my first friend in the church!  Since then, I have been part of several men's groups where me sharing my story has allowed other men to open up about theirs.  I've been able to develop several friendships as a result.  I'm grateful for that.  

In October, unbeknownst to me, the Facebook app on my phone started sending direct messages.  To this day, I have no idea why or how this glitch occurred.  Unfortunately, there were two messages sent to one of the ladies from the church.  After realizing this, I sent apologies right away (my wife stood beside me throughout).  As a result of this, I was given the "right foot of fellowship" and kicked out.  This occurred without me even having the opportunity to explain myself (I'd figured out how it happened, but couldn't decipher how to prevent it).  Their grounds for giving me the boot was their accusation that I'd made a (digital) pass at another man's wife.  

On the way home from last fall's religious adjudication, I told my wife that I was done with church for good.  

Regarding Samson Society, I attend virtual meetings, allowing that to fulfill my present church void.

In closing, holidays pretty well suck because I am estranged from my daughter (who now has a daughter of her own).  Therefore, we participate in a dance of celebrating independently with my wife carrying the love for both of us.  Obviously, my daughter hasn't forgiven me for what I did.  As a result, everybody talking about me being a Grandpa can be a little agitating!

Thanks.  I'm Eddie.

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QTCinderella, deepfake porn and the trauma it causes (usatoday.com)

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"To All My Single People On Valentine’s Day" - JR Everhart

Forget your diet today and go treat yourself to the meal you’ve been craving.  Go visit family and friends.  Celebrate in the fact that even though every couple on Facebook is sending each other love on this day, Facebook is not real life.  When they are fighting the other 364 days of the year, us single people are at peace and never need anyone’s permission to do anything.  We are free!  We can sleep the day away, or go conquer the world.  It’s ours to have.  For every holiday that tries to make us feel less than worthy of love, we have harmony in our lives and zero drama.  We are worthy of love, SELF LOVE!  So, look in the mirror today, and love that person looking back at you!  Being single is not a bad thing [1 Corinthians 7 - ed], it’s just where we find ourselves at this stage of life.  

Wholeness is found within, not from the “missing piece” of us as a puzzle.  You have all the resources at your fingertips to be whole.  You just have to be brave enough to take possession of it.  We are loved, and we are worthy of joy and happiness on our own.  Some of us spent too many years trapped inside of toxic relationships, and in so doing, felt alone besides.  Celebrate your freedom from all that dysfunction on this day.  Dream of the possibilities in life that are now waiting on you.  Be proud of the battles you’ve seen victory in and the trauma you’ve endured.  Don’t dare feel bad looking at all the “happy” couples in your feed [Valentine's Day may be a great day to delete your social media account - ed].  Stand tall with your head up proud.  You are that person right now.  You are enough, you are worthy of love, and you are the hero of your story.  Live life out loud! 🙌🏻 #worthyoflove #ProudAndFree #livingmybestlife

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Was I Making A Selfish, Irresponsible Move Or Not?

Your grown ass man brain is best served by a consciousness that practically protects it from emotional harm.  You have a God-given skull to protect it from impact / falls, but emotional harm, your skull cannot guard against.  Instead, it's up to your consciousness to recognize that risk and manage it accordingly (to the best of its ability / within reason).

My experience with feeling dejected by a mentor (immediate supervisor of mine at a college I was employed at throughout 2013) did SUBSTANTIAL emotional damage to my brain.  I had never experienced anything like that before, at least to that degree.  And this experience, mind you, wasn't drawn out / within a season.  Instead, it occurred over a period of 15 minutes.  It's important to note that my sensitivity was significantly amplified due to how needy I was at the time.  Desperate for help, inclusion and love, but instead, I was met with the exact opposite.  It was not unlike taking a sledgehammer to the temple.

As such, I made an immediate attempt to minimize further damage (professionally, emotionally).  Hence, I was convinced that the best way for me to pull that off was to pack up my bags and leave.  And not just from the institution itself (which was quite easy to do since I'd been fired), but also from the small town we were residing within (in order for me to work there).  All of that occurred over the next +/-30 days.

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For me, the surefire way I became cognizant of just how eviscerated my brain had been was as follows:

I've always loved, loved, loved screening films at the theater (from childhood onward).  Post aforementioned dejection (I was 41 at the time), I could no longer do this without crying throughout the entire length of the film.  And those tears were falling on behalf of how undeserving / unequipped / unable I believed I was to have an enjoyable experience of any kind (but especially one as nostalgically reliable as a cinematic one).

In essence, it felt as if this time-tested memorable love of mine had been poisoned outright via these massively negative feelings.  And I suppose, in a way it was.  It took 5-6 years 'till I actually felt confident enough to screen a film in a theater setting once again.

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A sizeable proportion of your vulnerability to feelings of dejection is wholly linked to the degree of respect you have for that other human being.  Whether that's your employer, friend, spouse, sibling, parent.  Have a massive amount of respect for an individual?  Be aware of how that will expose your heart to their critiques - both positive and negative.

Whilst saying all of this, please don't in anyway discount your own inner critic.  I'm referring to that voice inside your own head that's adjudicating in real time, most every move you make.

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Back in June of  '20, my wife was in a rehab hospital (in Jackson) having had a stroke a few weeks prior.  Too (at this time), the pandemic was in full swing, therefore most everyone had shifted their mentality relative to physical contact with other human beings.  And lo and behold, a prospective (sizeable) business client came into focus (referral) - literally overnight -, and I reacted reflexively therein (in kind).  

The prospective client though was far, far away from the Jackson Metro.  Farther than any client I was then working with.  

Nonetheless, I made the trip, and in the end, they agreed to work with me and the solution I proposed for their business.  In fact, it literally was a picture-perfect (climate / cultural) fit.  And this client has not wavered in their loyalty to Rob since that first juncture.

Taking all of that into consideration, because of how absolutely torn I felt whilst making that first trip in June of 2020, I dread making the annual return trip (which I'll soon be doing).  For I remember clearly how doggedly my thoughts punished me for choosing to "leave my wife's side" (if only for a few days) during her "time of need".  Was I making a selfish, irresponsible move or not?  

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Yesterday evening, my middle daughter and I attended a banquet at the college she'll be attending this fall (as a freshman).  The banquet was held within a ballroom that I was asked to make a short presentation within back in 2011 whilst working as a Staff Architect for the State of Mississippi.  I remember what I chose to wear for that event as well a handful of the distinguished alums' reactions whilst speaking (me attempting to make eye contact with my audience).  I also remember my face heating up in shame as I spoke, and me wondering if anyone noticed my blushing.  

I remember sitting down after my few minutes of having the floor and berating myself internally for what I considered to be a completely worthless effort.  Wishing all the while that I was someone else entirely, both regarding my looks and how I sounded / presented myself.

Yet last night, once again, here I was within that exact same space all these years later.  Celebrating my daughter's achievements alongside hundreds of other parents.  Working to respectfully set in motion via my physical presence, her soon-to-be collegiate career.

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Angie (my wife) and I grew up together (we were friends within the youth group) at First Baptist Church Jackson.  She was one year (class) ahead of me, but nonetheless, we were both outcasts that gravitated towards each other platonically in kind.

When she went to Baylor after graduating from high school (Jackson Academy), two of our youth group classmates (within my class) joined her a year later out in Waco.  One of these young men, soon after his freshman year whilst being a student there, somehow remarkably - reinvented himself entirely.  

This reinvention occurred within the vein of him becoming absolutely zero effeminate acting / sounding.  Whilst making these mods, he also shed his southern drawl entirely.  This resulted in an exceedingly red-blooded, "all boy" / "man's man" kind of guy (which he most definitely was NOT during middle / high school) that coherently existed going forward.

I believe it's important to note that after his time at Baylor, he began working as a sociologist prior to becoming a (quite successful) published author, and then onto being appointed (at a remarkably young age) a University President.  Having heard him speak / preach from the pulpit (within the last decade) at FBC Jackson, it's astounding the level of masculine confidence that now radiates therein.  

It's literally as if Dr. Armitage from the film, Get Out, worked his neurosurgical magic (but on a white man), and I'm serious as a heart attack whilst saying that.

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In light of me choosing to not reinvent myself entirely (immediately following the aforementioned job loss), I can say that heading away from the pain (and those inflicting it) was a very smart move.  Considering those pragmatics, there was also a lot to be gained from not running too terribly far away (we returned to Jackson from the Mississippi Delta).  

I'll also leave you with this.  There's a lot that can be gained by re-living the past via future experiences.  Taking those settings / circumstances even, into account within that recognized present (where you're at today versus back then).  It presents a new perspective that can work opportunistically to re-frame the past.  That being said, we must permit that re-framing to happen.  And that can be awfully hard to do when we're still wrestling with unsettled feelings from the past.  

Was I making a selfish, irresponsible move or not? 

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