Divorce

Samson guys are often either being threatened by the prospect of their wife divorcing them, or they're in the throes of divorce proceedings themselves.  Many of these men are moreso committed to Samson Society because of this, having little to no hope otherwise.  For I've never met a Samson guy who's supportive of divorce. 

Divorce is an exit strategy.  It's also a punishment technique.  

Regardless, women who divorce often become deeply jaded / bitter and rightly so.  Marriages are designed / sought after to bring long-lasting security for women.  When instead there're lies / deceit / cheating / debauchery and so forth, bitterness easily takes root as their bedrock crumbles away.

On the flip side, of course, is the husband's point of view / motivation, many of which profoundly believe their poor choices (leading up to / resulting in the divorce) were fostered by their wife's own personal shortcomings.  And this save face lookback narrative can oftentimes be bolstered by couples' therapists / family / friends.

Ultimately, the breakdown between husband / wife is oftentimes due to the marriage becoming no longer a private two-person relationship but instead, a sort of microcosmic communal experience.  Now, considering drug / alcohol addiction, criminal activity, or sexual / physical abuse, those experiences can - to some degree - remain "in the marriage" exclusively.  Therein warranting divorces that are more private.  Many of these situations are simply about survival.

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I mentioned the word punishment at the top of this post.  

More and more, I'm becoming convinced that this may be the devilish behind-the-scenes motivator for the majority of women who seek (public) divorces.  For divorced men, in western societies, are forever marked as failures, and this label can never be erased.  

Women lose less in (western) divorces.  Much moreso relative to certain demographics.  Emotionally, they're often capable of finding security once again (particularly if they're sexually proficient) as they seek to remarry.  

Men value respect more than anything else.  A divorced man is a marked man is a less qualified man...  You catch my drift.

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My mom cheated on my dad when I was around 10 years old.  The adulterous affair occurred between her and her boss, and it was on and off for quite some time.  Her boss too was married, yet him residing with his family in Nashville (I believe) perhaps made his poor choices more strategically justifiable.  

Her position under this man - sometimes literally - (management role at a weight-loss center in Jackson) compensated her well as a result of her work ethic, poise & striking good looks.  Keep in mind that this all occurred during the early '80s, and women overall weren't typically appointed to ANY administrative positions (especially with only a high school diploma to speak of).    

As my mother's only child, I watched firsthand how her actions emotionally eviscerated my father.  But too, I somewhat pitied her situation (particularly looking back on it as a teen).  She'd married (as an 18-year-old expectant mother) an amoeba, yet she had been wooed (as a 28-year-old) by a stallion.  In fact, her lover was such the stallion that my own father (my mom's husband) was - to a degree - unabashedly a tepid admirer of this older man in his own sick, twisted way. 

I cannot tell you how much money I'd pay to meet this stallion today (assuming he's still alive) in order to know his story firsthand.  Not as an admirer in my own right but in order to better understand the dynamics at play, forty years ago.

Nonetheless, I believe my father chose not to divorce my mother because he knew he'd ultimately receive the short end of the deal.  Too, it might have very well resulted in my mother obtaining what she'd now had a taste of.  That being an immense amount of additional spousal support (women's prized possession).

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Besides experiencing the results (fallout) of adultery on a familial plane, I absolutely became resolved, as a young man, to not grow into an amoeba as my father had.  For I'd no desire to ever give anyone who depended on me pause relative to being spineless.  

And keep in mind that I wasn't at all motivated as a young man to seek out / identify with the whole marriage paradigm.  Yet, even as it related to my friends, this supportive strength became my end goal.

Today, one of the primary attributes I look for in friendship is (reciprocal) strength.  To be more specific, I'm referring to strength that's rooted in supporting Rob.  As such, I simply don't make assumptions.  Instead, I put it to the test.  And this takes time and patience which sometimes results in disappointment.  

Regarding Samson Society, this approach too applies to the men who I choose as my Silas.  

It is weird recognizing the fact that some stallion, who I'll never meet, made such an impact on Rob.  An impact caused by so much pain and heartache as a result of his acting on said sexual attraction towards my mother.    

Lagniappe

Sad, Summer Boy

Not long after we "re-joined" Lakeside Presbyterian Church somewhere around 2016 (I can't remember the exact year), we were politely invited to an Independence Day pool party at a church member's home.  Of note:  An elder of our church was there with (most of) his family, and this included his teenage son.  Also of note:  I was the only adult who chose to swim with the children, and this made for an awkward assemblage.  But, I wanted to enjoy the pool and really didn't give a damn.  (I can remember knowing instantly that we'd likely never be invited back once I made my first pass across the hourglass-shaped concrete hole.)  And that was fine-by-me.  If you've ever spent any recreational time with Presbyterians (other than at a bar), it's about as much fun as taping together cardboard boxes or popping bubble wrap methodically with a rubber mallet.  

But one thing that did come out of this steamy July afternoon shindig was my amazement at how physically attractive the aforementioned elder's son was, taking into account him being semi-nude (swim trunks only) for everyone to see.  In summary, the boy had beautiful bronze skin and a naturally muscular yet lean build that was highlighted by fine blonde hairiness throughout.  Now, keep in mind that I had never seen this boy for more than a few moments prior to this day, therefore it may very well have been the contrast between his new-to-me self and the Presbyterian setting that made much of this lasting impression on Rob.  Nonetheless, I felt pretty confident that I wasn't the only adult spectator to adjudicate as such regarding this golden boy, though no one dared tip their hand relative to what they were observing firsthand.

It's important to note too that this boy wasn't but perhaps a ninth grader at the time.  The lesson here is as follows:  Never absolutely judge a guy's looks 'till he's shirtless.  Clothes oftentimes really don't do individuals justice.

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Today, this physically impressive young man is a college student who's taking advantage of a full ride (academic scholarship) at one of Mississippi's illustrious public universities.  He's studying to become a professional, and as far as I know, his freshman year was a resounding success.  Of note too:  over the course of this past summer, he chose to live in the Lone Star state, working Texas-style on a ranch.  

(His family is originally from Texas, having moved to humble Mississippi prior to us returning to Lakeside Pres.)  

I'm going to segue here to this boy's father, and the reason I'm interested in doing so has to do with the dynamic between he and his son, based on what I've been privileged to observe / glean.

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The defining emotional attribute of this boy's father is as follows:  Dad has a substantial chip on his shoulder.  Hence, any and all criticism is agonizingly disheveling for him to receive.  What's weird about this is his vocational position naturally warrants an immense amount of critique for it (him) to be performing at his peak.  In spite of this, he chooses to surround himself with individuals who cater to his chip.  Hence, he's left to his own devices to go about his work as he so pleases.

The root of this chip is pride trauma, and I've no idea what that entails in its traumatic entirety, but I do know much of it occurred at his previous employer (pre-move to Mississippi).

To be more specific about the chip, it's rooted in the whole notion of measuring up as a man (masculinity / vocation) within the eyes of other men.  

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Now, let's return to the golden boy (son).

There's a sadness to this young man, and I believe it's rooted in both his setting (Mississippi - in contrast to Texas) and the aforementioned (dad's) chip.

One of the most interesting contrasts between this boy and his dad is how dynamically distinct they are relative to their sexual identity (as male).  The boy has little to no interest in romantic / sexual relationships whereas the dad was the complete opposite when he was his son's age.  Even today, the dad is quick to remind his peers of his "need" for consistent sex (from his wife) and the regularity therein.  Also of note, the boy is introspective whereas his father is chatty.  

And then there's the son's quiet handsomeness as compared to his father.  A handsomeness that's not at all been leveraged relative to courting / bedding members of the opposite sex.

It's important to note too that the son is distinctly taller than his dad as a result of his frame being distinctly his own compared to his father.

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So, what then can be learned from said chip?

They drive relational wedges.  Even within such - assumed - close ties as father / son.

Chips, especially if they've originated from trauma, are hugely problematic emotional tumors.  Tumors that simply sit there, all the while out of place, robbing resources from elsewhere.

Whilst dialoguing with this elder about his son (basic polite Q & A), it's obvious that his chip short circuits his ability to see the child healthily.  Now, overall, these are subtle biases, but I would argue there's nonetheless enough there to act as an intimacy deterrent.  

And this is where, I believe, the boy's sadness surfaces.  Because, he's smart enough to know of his father's chip, but he's unqualified to broach the subject with him.  At least not at this point in his life.    

And this motivates him to run.  Texas-style or otherwise.

Now, in conclusion, I very well may be WAY off base here as it relates to this observed dynamic, by reading into dialogue / situations to the nth degree, but what I do know for sure is who I am (& have been) in relation to my own chipper father over the past 50 years.

As such, it has been a sad existence.  One's that enviable by no one.  For it reeks of powerlessness and even curse that's only dampened via massive soul searching / therapeutic work.

"A Note From Dad" - JR Everhart

I know that all of hell is attacking your sanity and peace of mind.  Be still and know that I am God.  I can’t make her love you, yes it breaks my heart too.  But I can promise you that I will never stop loving you or reaching into your mess to heal and restore you.  I have given all of mankind the ability to choose their own pathways on earth.  And all of humanity will live by the choices they make.  I allow this because without choice, you cannot love me as I desire.  You have to choose me, and accept my blessings in your life.  But on the other side of choice lives darkness, and I have to allow that darkness for this season of humanity in order for love to have space to grow in your hearts.  It always grieves me to see my children suffering at the hands of poor choices, and the choices of those that direct their darkness towards you.  But because of the darkness living in the hearts of men and women, the human experience will always be hard and full of suffering.  No one is exempt from this! 

But, I loved mankind so much I gave of myself through Jesus, the ability to be reconciled back to me through his work on the cross.  You are only miserable because your heart is full of sorrow.  Your behavior does not reflect the person I so deeply love living inside you.  I know who you really are, and I see the good that sleeps under the surface of your pain.  You live in this pain and suffering because you're too afraid to lay it at my feet and walk away.  You loved the person that hurt you so much that your pain is all you have left of them to hang onto.  If you didn’t love them, this wouldn’t hurt so bad.  It’s ok to feel the grief and pain of abandonment, but it’s not ok to live there.  You’ve grieved enough!  It’s time to give that pain to me now, and be free.  It’s time to release yourself from the bondage of lost love, and move on with your life.  Hold your head high and know that I walk with you… every step, every victory, and yes, even every failure.  I am… and will always be your loving God, drawing you toward me in the times you feel most distance from me.  I’m there inside your sin speaking light into your darkness.  Drawing you back to the table of restorative conversation.  You are not alone, even when you choose to be alone, and I am growing you out of the ashes of your heartbreak.  You will love again, and I will be there with you.  I love you son, and I’m proud of the man you’ve become in the face of horror and with every opportunity to blame me for it all.  Nothing brings me joy more than you running to my arms when you could easily return to your toxic behavior.  Instead, with every demon in hell screaming at you that I’m not here with you and that I don’t care about you, you never gave up believing in my goodness.  Yes, you had times of doubt and we had very hard conversations together.  But here we are still together, and you attempting to trust me with your life.  I know it’s hard, but I promise to strengthen you along the way.  Just lean on me and I will be your Savior.  Your heart, even in its darkest days was still yearning for my love.  Only my true children understand these things.  And I love you for this and will bless everything you put your hand to do as long as I’m your Father.  I will turn your trials into a foundation of growth, and your sorrow into joy.  But you have to trust me and give me everything.  I cannot heal what you don’t give me, and I will never force my will on to you.  There are more hard times ahead, but never forget this conversation, or what you mean to me. 

Your Heavenly Father,

God

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Honoring The Mother Ship's (First Baptist Church Jackson) Cherished '70s / '80s' Pastor - Dr. Frank Pollard - 4/16/78 transcript

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You Won’t Find Yourself Within | Desiring God

"Truth In Suffering" - JR Everhart

My life is such a bag of contradictions.  I am Roman’s 7 over and over again.  I find myself doing the exact things I do not want to do.  I’m a big ball of unwanted behavior on a multitude of levels.  My sexuality is broken and distorted.  My anger and bitterness rage in me like waves in the ocean, no matter how hard I try to practice self-control.  I am a man out of control in so many ways, and it has created layers of suffering in my life.  That suffering triggers all my self-hatred and shame for the mistakes I’ve made.  And thus, the cycle of shame and sin become my day-to-day life.  I act out from the depths of my suffering and impatience.  I make rash decisions, frustrated with the burden of loneliness and emptiness.  So many times, I walk away from God's direction and pathway - through the valley of the shadow of death - paralyzed with fear before turning right around and walking back into the darkness he delivered me from.  This is only because I am more comfortable with the familiar darkness of bondage than with the unconditional surrender of trusting God.  Trading God's peace and uncomfortable suffering for the enemy’s suffering, which has been like a toxic friend; this has been the track record of most of my adult life.  The enemy tells me God's never going to help me, and I’ve been abandoned by him; left in a desert of my own evil desires.  Trapped in a prison of my own design.  Forever bound to push the rock up the hill - to only get kicked back down the hill - at the first sign of success or victory.  All the while, so lost in such a deep web of lies that I’m ready to sell my birthright for a bowl of soup.  In these times, I can see no good in this world, and that makes me want to try and reach for whatever pleasure I can find on my own.  All and all, I’m exhausted and broken down to the point that I can’t tell which direction is up. 

All of us have felt some form of this within our lives, no one is exempt from it.  Satan pours out his elixir of poison and lies to us all.  The only way out of this pit is through our Savior Jesus.  We really don’t understand what he felt on the cross while crying out to God, “Father why have you forsaken me…” until you’ve looked into the eyes of the enemy’s work - living in you, staring back at you in the mirror and laughing.  That is the bottom of the coal black sin living in our flesh.  It would murder your loved ones and rape your neighbor's teenage daughters if it weren’t for the power of Christ’s work on the cross.  This was the demonic spirituality that ruled Sodom and why God had to destroy that horrible city.  Their sexual sin was only the tip of the iceberg.  If you don’t believe me, ask someone who has come from a foreign land where women and children were abused and killed for sport.  I know it sounds crazy to our western minds, but it happens every day all over the third world.  So many times, I think about how my life would be different had I been born in Somalia or Croatia or even West Africa.  I have so much to be thankful for and am regularly blinded to how good I really have it.  My suffering is so laughable to the suffering of most of today's third world. 

God loves me and pursues me inside my sin every day.  He never gets frustrated with me and always approaches me with gentleness and kindness.  He’s not mad at me or was in anyway surprised by my failures.  His only desire is that I open my eyes and come home to his welcoming arms of love and acceptance.  He’s ready to throw a party and celebrate my return every time I turn to him for forgiveness and restoration.  He never gets tired of picking me up and setting me back on solid ground.  His grace and mercies endure forever and ever.  I am worthy, not because of my behavior but because of Jesus.  King David wasn’t a man after God's own heart because his behavior was perfect.  No, it was because of his desire to repent and live in genuine truth.  God is truth in its purist form, and he must be worshiped in spirit and in truth.  That’s his heart, truth… and we should be chasing after that heart of truth every day.  God's not worried about your failures; he knew you were going to fail before the foundations of the universe.  His desire is for you to live in truth.  Truth about your suffering and sin.  David never tried to justify his sin.  He owned it and ran to the father for restoration desiring to make amends for his wrongs.  He lived in real truth about his human experience.  We are not humans having a spiritual experience.  We are eternal spirits having a human experience.  I have to remind myself of this over and over.  My flesh did not get saved, and it’s not going to heaven.  It’s going back to the dust for which it came from.  We are only aliens here in a strange land that does not like us.  This is the truth David understood and it was these characteristics that God was referring to when he called him a man after his own heart.  Truth… it’s the only way. 

Honest expression about our feelings, failures, and fears is what robs them of their power over us. But instead, we often choose to isolate and push God out of the way of our desires and passions of this world.  This is the foundation of all the enemy’s tactics.  He entices and entices and then laughs at us as we swallow the forbidden fruit.  He slithers away and only returns to deepen the wound after it's had time to fester. 

I 100% know the enemy wants me to kill myself.  All his tactics against me are laser focused on laying a trap of self-hatred and denial until I feel like I have nothing to lose in taking my own life.  I know that sounds extreme, but it’s the reality of my day-to-day life.  I grew up surrounded by suicide, therefore it’s always been on the table; without Christ I would already be dead.  Even now the enemy’s telling me “it’s only a matter of time…”, but I have purpose in this world regardless of the stupid stuff I’ve done.  It’s amazing how quick people forget your mistakes when you just shut up, and put your head down.  We have to get about the father's business.  His grace is and always will be sufficient for all things.  We can’t lose sight of that, or the horror cited above will quickly become our unmanageable reality once again.  Glory to Jesus Christ for he did for us what we couldn’t do for ourselves.  Hallelujah! 🙌🏻

For Tenured Samson Guys, Church Can Seem Awfully Saccharine

Being reared in a megachurch (First Baptist Church Jackson) with the pedigree of a Huckleberry Finn, I simply stood back in awe of the spectacle, masses and outstanding preaching.  As a teen, I was there during the late '80s when Dr. Frank Pollard (Senior Pastor) was in his prime (during his second appointment there).  We attended both Sunday mornings and evenings, giving nary a second thought to driving all the way from humble (back then) Madison to downtown Jackson twice (+/25 minute car ride) on The Lord's Day.

Church provided teen Rob (only child) with so many good opportunities to be cared for by adults who weren't Bob and Darlene.  Therein, I was lassoed in by the gospel at the tender age of 13.  In many ways it was religiously idyllic.  Especially considering the setting being Mississippi.

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Today, Samson Society provides the caring adults who support Rob, done so at a level (appropriately so) that's far more nuanced and intentional.  

So where does that leave church?

Church, to me, is like going to the Y for a workout or down the Reservoir multi-purpose trail for a run.  It's time well spent, but mostly, it's routine more than anything else.  

Now, we tithe our 10% every month, and I sing in the Chancel Choir for both the Christmas and Easter cantatas, and I will keep doing that.  

But, I don't work hard to make close Presbyterian friends, participate in either the domestic or overseas mission projects or aspire to become a deacon / elder at Lakeside Presbyterian Church.  

Hence, some Sundays can be monotonous and thereby fatiguing.  

But, there is one regularly scheduled church programming event (Fall / Spring) exception to this.

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One of the things I really like about our little community church is Wednesday nights.  And not just due to the food line ("Family Night Supper").  

When I was in late elementary school, Bob & Darlene would bring me to megachurch (First Baptist Church Jackson) for Wednesday evening service, and though the food was great, everything else about it sucked.  

Primarily this had to do with the facilities, which were vast, but on Wednesday evenings, the attendance numbers were miniscule compared to Sunday mornings.  Hence, the megachurch building felt daunting and frozen due to its emptiness.  

As such, their formality was amplified that much more.  

After that singular year (1985?), we discontinued attending Wednesday megachurch services because none of us liked it one bit. 

Fast forward to today, and there's no doubt that Lakeside Pres' facilities are on the opposite end of the spectrum.  They're not even, by definition, modest.  Haphazard is the best descriptor I can think of.  Yet, in so many ways, it's a perfect reflection of the community it serves, and this is due to the fact that the Reservoir area is such the Hodge Podge free-for-all / redneck resort paradise of the Jackson Metro.  

Today, Wednesday nights at Lakeside Pres are typically jammed packed with middle to upper middle-class Presbyterians, easily stretching the seams of the '70ish facilities.  It's borderline raucous.  And I like that about it because it doesn't - in the slightest - reek of church.  Plus, there are even a few occasions where Bible studies are enacted, following dinner, that are well worth the weekday evening invested. 

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My wife, Angie, isn't involved in The Sarah Society (a women's equivalent to Samson Society), therefore her relationships at Lakeside Pres are (aspiringly) tantamount to the ones I enjoy via Samson.  Therefore, on Sunday mornings, she lingers far longer than I do - after the service - to chat meaningfully with her friends.  Angie's also far more likely to interject prayer requests during Sunday School, and she frequently attends a ladies' breakfast gathering amongst her middle-aged (& a few older) peers.

Angie loves Lakeside Pres.  In fact, were she forced to choose between it and her husband, I'm pretty sure she'd choose Lakeside Pres.  

And that makes me really happy because I believe church today is mostly geared towards women and meeting their spiritual needs.  In conclusion, finding one where my wife feels communal makes me one quite content Samson guy.     

Stand Up For Yourself. Samson Society Is A Selfish Pursuit. As You Mature In Your Recovery, Optimize Your Approach To Said Recovery.

You are loyal to no one within Samson Society.  This is not a fraternity or a men's club.  Samson Society isn't a discipleship group or a men's Sunday School class.  It is a community of men seeking recovery, and you are responsible for taking full advantage therein relative to your specific recovery.

Both of my former Silases benefited Rob primarily via face-to-face meetings.  And (mostly) it wasn't what was said during those junctures.  No, it was simply the time spent together.  Text-messages, telephone calls, etc. did little for me, though I certainly participated as such.  Hence, I'm constrained (relative to meeting my specific needs), and I realize that.  I believe this is why my recovery will never likely be, well, recovered.  Obviously, there's only so much time available to commune with one's Silas face-to-face (that either he or I can stomach).  Especially considering men's typical MO of doing 99% of male-to-male life in groups (3+).

An example of one of the very best "healing" face-to-face "sessions" between my first Silas and I happened in 2016 during the Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society Spring Retreat.  And essentially, that "session" was comprised of me spending time with him alone or somewhat alone.  During this retreat, we shared a room in the gloriously luxurious vacation home where the retreat was held, and though we only had a few private conversations therein, it was simply being alone with him that really mattered.

Why?

I don't really know.  What I do know is it was soothing to be desired enough in that regard.  Plus, it provided a counterweight to the ever-present din of the other Samson guys present.

I'm sure that sounds weird, but it's how I've come to understand myself.  Likely there's something there related to me being an only child.

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My second Silas was wired similarly to me in this regard (he was also an only child).  Hence, our relationship definitely played off of each other, but one thing that was really interesting about him was his sort of secret preference for unplanned face-to-face pursuit.  Now, you need to know that this dude planned out every waking hour of his life, and I suppose me interrupting that needily basically gave him permission to throttle back "from the grind" in such a way that was especially acceptable / appreciated / desirable.  I'm theorizing here.

I do know that his close proximity (he lived relatively close by) also facilitated these last-minute ("Catch me, I'm falling!") junctures.  Having never lived so close to a Silas, the convenience was also positively affirming / comforting. 

The only issue here was there were no regularly scheduled junctures, though I didn't recognize it at the time.

But, learn I did.

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Today, I'm involved in the "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson Society meeting which is made up of an amazing group of 30+ Samson guys, but interestingly enough, my present-day Silas happens to be local.  

He and I have met face-to-face on three occasions over the past three months, and during our last rendezvous, I asked that we calendar our next two future junctures (which he agreed to).  All-in-all, the plan is to rendezvous at lunch and at a local park (both) once a month.  Therefore, about every two weeks is when we're slated to meet.  

This too is easily facilitated due to how close in proximity we live to each other.  

What's especially curious about how all of this played out is the following: my Silas was only vaguely familiar with Samson Society prior to this past April.  Now, you must know that I have known him, as a distant friend, for well over a decade.  And, I knew of his struggle with lust because he'd shared it with me at the outset of our relationship (+/-15 years ago).  But back then, Samson wasn't an available resource to either of us, and the concept of recovery was irrelevant to either of us.  

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Optimize your recovery in two ways: by making the best of opportunities and being assertive relative to the needs that specifically can be addressed (within reason) via your Silas.  Do this well by learning, over time, as you relate to various men within this community.  Recovery is as much about understanding and reacting to personal dynamics as it is to gaining perspective regarding both where you're at along The Path today and where you're wanting to be.    

Recommended Reading - Never Support Social Media Companies By Using Their Apps. What Started Out As An Interesting Way To Keep Up With Long Distance Family Members, Now Fosters This Repulsive, Cheapened Behavior. God Help Us.

Rise of the Sperm Bro: The Touring Men Fathering Children and Undercutting the Fertility Industry (vice.com)

Lagniappe

Recommended Reading - An Exemplary Essay Regarding Friendship

You Still Need Good Friends | Desiring God

Honoring The Mother Ship's (First Baptist Church Jackson) Cherished '70s / '80s' Pastor - Dr. Frank Pollard - 4/09/78 transcript