Weekly meetings available to you are as follows:

Tuesdays at 6:00 PM, Foundry Church - 3010 Lakeland Cove, Flowood. Call Matt Flint at (601) 260-8518 or email him at matthewflint.makes@gmail.com or Lance Bowser at (601) 862-8308 or email at lancebowser@msi-inv.com.

Wednesday at 6:00 PM, First Baptist Church Jackson - Summit Counseling Suite - 431 North State St. Jackson. Call Don Waller at 601-946-1290 or email him at don@wallerbros.com.

Monday at 6:30 PM , Vertical Church - 521 Gluckstadt Road Madison, MS 39110. Mr. Roane Hunter, facilitator, LifeWorks Counseling.

Sunday night at 6:00 PM, Grace Crossing Baptist Church - 598 Yandell Rd. Canton. Call Ryan Adams at 662-571-5705 or email him at ryan.adams1747@gmail.com.


Sunday, September 10, 2023

Recommended Reading - I Can Relate

One Thing My Parents Did Right: Generous Hospitality (thegospelcoalition.org)

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.

-------------------------

"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.

-------------------------

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.  

-------------------------

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!?!"

-------------------------

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.  

-------------------------

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.

-------------------------

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.

-------------------------

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.

-------------------------

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.

Friday, September 8, 2023

"Still Peeling The Onion" - JR Everhart

I recently discovered the following trauma concept - when a parent is overly critical of their children, those children don’t necessarily grow towards hating them (& their critiques), instead, they tend to grow towards hating themselves.  To take that a step further - when a parent doesn’t create a safe environment, instead promoting their own personal failures as some sort of positive learning experience, children become super confused. 

Here's how this applies to me:  I can remember countless times where I was made to feel unintelligent as a child by both my peers and my hyper-critical father.  It seemed like no matter what I did, I was a screw up who was absolutely unable to get it together.  Over time, this "negativity in its purest form" concretized into a foundation of shame.  A foundation that all my compulsive behaviors would springboard off of for decades to come.  Even today at 50-years-old, I struggle to not blame myself for everything that’s wrong within my life.  It’s part of the tapestry of who I am and something I readily must recognize in order to live a well-adjusted life. 

Nevertheless, that internalized, very frightened 12-year-old boy - inside of me - glaringly stares back each time I fail or screw something up.  

Describing this feels silly to me, yet this is my experience.  

The underdeveloped child's mind can give birth to toxic self-talk.  

It's a fact that every child needs room to fail, giving themselves the opportunity to learn from such experiences.  This, in lieu of beating ourselves to death over life’s inevitable stumbling blocks. 
The only way out of this is by finding safe healthy connection(s) with others that understand our pain.  From there, we must allow ourselves to feel and process those painful feelings of rejection in a healthy way (clinical mind approach versus an emotional one).  How to do that?  By absolutely knowing that I’m worthy to be known and loved, and that I need to protect myself from toxic self-talk.  

Emotionally, this unhelpful self-talk is a rollercoaster that will bring one tremendous highs prior to devastating lows before leaving behind a migraine headache, if you choose to stay strapped into that seat for too long.  And that ride too may very well distort your recollection of past arguments, potentially turning you into an eternal victim who blames the world for all their problems.  In the end, you're going through the motions of life but not actually living life by "maturing" into a reactor to this world who's hyper-sensitive to everything around him versus a mature actor.  

Know this:  Residing (long-term) inside that emotional state of mind is a very dangerous place to be.  To God by the glory!  Rational (clinical) thinking will almost always reel us back into a healthy place of good decision making and harmony with our social environment. 

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

"I Found Jesus In Prison..." Ethan #10


"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
 
 

Recommended Reading

A Time for Courageous Love | Desiring God

The Circle Experience - Join Us!

 

Monday, September 4, 2023

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.

-------------------------

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).  

-------------------------

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.

-------------------------

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.

-------------------------

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."

?!?!?

-------------------------

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?