Salacious photography hit Rob like an emotional sledgehammer to the head as a middle schooler. The drugstore periodicals is where I encountered these firstly, and these images weren't on the top shelf or packaged in opaque plastic. These were "run of the mill" exercise magazines, positioned as "How To" guides on how to look super strong, healthy, and ultimately, physically perfect. Prior to that encounter, I'd honed my imagination on comic books, TV, and film from the era of the '80s. Our family was no different than other middle class white nuclears. We gorged ourselves on the newly introduced cable television each day and ran to the moviehouse to see the latest film on the weekends, never having any truthful idea what we were introducing ourselves to 'till the credits rolled.
Like a young screenwriter, I took those salacious exercise magazine photographs and added a sexualized narrative to them, and typically that narrative involved me being pursued. This brought on feelings of worthiness and value. It was overwhelmingly effective at counteracting my low adolescent self-esteem. Plus, I was in complete control of the fantasy, therefore no one could come in and complicate these relationships or cut them short.
As a college student, I continued in this vein, but at this point, I relied solely on my imagination to fuel these sexual fantasies, though the themes remained the same.
-------------------------
This past fall, I attended the Samson Society retreat in Eva, Tennessee. On Saturday, Mr. Nate Larkin challenged us to illustrate some specific scenarios (past or present) that represented thematically a certain portion of our story. Afterwards, we paired up with 3 or 4 men who were close at hand to discuss our individual work. One Samson man in our group was in his mid 50s, and upon sharing one of his illustrations, mentioned how difficult it was for him to believe he was at all physically / sexually attractive. Therefore, he rescinded to Internet porn as an escape which fueled this notion that fantasy lust was justifiable due to his need for self-love.
Now, this man was by no means unattractive physically. Nor was he physically disabled or of low intelligence. That's what made this confession so shocking to me.
The industry that sells salacious imagery to us, no matter the format, are slight of hand illusionist who indirectly evangelize self-hatred. Overall, their product fuels this negativity whilst consumed, but particularly within individuals who are highly visual (like me).
--------------------------
Years ago, I was watching a daytime television talk show that featured a handful of young beautiful women alongside their mothers. The premise of this particular show was mother / daughter support relative to the daughters being recently photographed naked in Playboy magazine. At a certain point during the interviews, the host stopped to take questions from the studio audience. One very brave man caught the attention of the show host prior to asking the following question of the Playboy Playmates, "Do you understand why it is that mostly men purchase Playboy magazine?"
The camera filming the ladies on the stage abruptly captured their awkward silence before this man answered his own query bluntly.
"They do so in order to masturbate to the photos."
Now that same camera zoomed into these beautiful women's faces squirming in disgust, all the while looking at each other as if they'd now been exposed to the reality of their monumental regret.
-------------------------
I am convinced that the majority of our consumable entertainment culture is fueled by nothing more than propaganda, subtly telling consumers, "You're a worthless piece of shit because you don't measure up to what you're seeing here onscreen, therefore choose to emotionally invest yourself within these images / story just as everyone else does. To do so will make you feel better about your pathetic self."
For so many of us here in the western world, having been sold this bill of goods since childhood, it certainly has made a lasting impression.
What can be done to break free from these lies? Choose now to STOP consuming them.
Saturday, May 25, 2019
The Religious Wife & Her Husband of Ill Repute
Religious wives who choose to remain with husbands who've participated in sexual sin, by definition, may very well do so for the sole purpose of persecuting him for what he's either admitted to taking part in or getting caught in taking part in.
Some of these women can be classified as viragos. I've seen it, and essentially, from my point of view, it's her exploiting a marital relationship in order for her husband to suffer by her hand "'till death do us part".
We all enjoy watching others suffer. It's one of the reasons behind our fascination with news / current events television. When you're "in the know" relative to others pain, either through journalism or gossip, it can instantly seem to elevate one's sense of well-being by gratifying that part of us that detest self-examination (by distraction).
A religious wife may say, "I don't know the you who's done these things", or she simply may stay tight-lipped about the entire situation, to the point of completely disregarding the man's need for recovery (through Samson Society or otherwise).
Religion is tangible. There is order there, and this plays into a wife's need for security. But religion, as we know from Scripture, is empty / fruitless. It promotes pride which is the ultimate demerit against our Heavenly Father.
--------------------------
Now there's another piece to this, and that's the sexual side of these couple's marriages.
Religion in no way promotes pleasurable activity within the marriage bed because the emphasis is always on moral / spiritual superiority coupled with an almost repugnant view of the flesh. There's plenty of instruction on obedience and holiness, but none related to oral sex, heavy petting, or butt play because the two simply cannot coexist. Oral sex, heavy petting, and butt play promote vulnerability and shameless physical pleasure between husband and wife. These awesome activities promote unity by helping marriages heal systematically as they endure the repetitive grind.
But religion isn't interested in healing. Not really. Because when healing occurs, there's that loss of power and control over the failed spouse and that intoxicating sense of moral superiority / opportunity for persecution.
Marriage is a joining of two into one. One flesh. Husband and wife. Man and woman. It's a amazingly complex, supernatural work. There are Biblical standards for marriages to end in divorce. It's all written in Scripture, but if a couple chooses to work through sexual sin, the scenario I've described here must be avoided at all costs. Otherwise, you'll simply end up with a husband who's walking through life with a boot on his neck. And that's in no way in line with the respect he needs to thrive as his wife's husband.
Some of these women can be classified as viragos. I've seen it, and essentially, from my point of view, it's her exploiting a marital relationship in order for her husband to suffer by her hand "'till death do us part".
We all enjoy watching others suffer. It's one of the reasons behind our fascination with news / current events television. When you're "in the know" relative to others pain, either through journalism or gossip, it can instantly seem to elevate one's sense of well-being by gratifying that part of us that detest self-examination (by distraction).
A religious wife may say, "I don't know the you who's done these things", or she simply may stay tight-lipped about the entire situation, to the point of completely disregarding the man's need for recovery (through Samson Society or otherwise).
Religion is tangible. There is order there, and this plays into a wife's need for security. But religion, as we know from Scripture, is empty / fruitless. It promotes pride which is the ultimate demerit against our Heavenly Father.
--------------------------
Now there's another piece to this, and that's the sexual side of these couple's marriages.
Religion in no way promotes pleasurable activity within the marriage bed because the emphasis is always on moral / spiritual superiority coupled with an almost repugnant view of the flesh. There's plenty of instruction on obedience and holiness, but none related to oral sex, heavy petting, or butt play because the two simply cannot coexist. Oral sex, heavy petting, and butt play promote vulnerability and shameless physical pleasure between husband and wife. These awesome activities promote unity by helping marriages heal systematically as they endure the repetitive grind.
But religion isn't interested in healing. Not really. Because when healing occurs, there's that loss of power and control over the failed spouse and that intoxicating sense of moral superiority / opportunity for persecution.
Marriage is a joining of two into one. One flesh. Husband and wife. Man and woman. It's a amazingly complex, supernatural work. There are Biblical standards for marriages to end in divorce. It's all written in Scripture, but if a couple chooses to work through sexual sin, the scenario I've described here must be avoided at all costs. Otherwise, you'll simply end up with a husband who's walking through life with a boot on his neck. And that's in no way in line with the respect he needs to thrive as his wife's husband.
Friday, May 24, 2019
A Bare Chested Bible Teaching
For the majority of my teen years, my youth pastor was female. She was single initially, but within the first year or so of her tenure, Cindy married the nicest attorney on planet Earth. At the time, they were both in their mid-30s. From what I recall, years earlier (prior to her being employed by our church), she'd come very close to marrying another man. She was fortunate to have had second thoughts due to the fact that his replacement couldn't have been a better fit for her.
My youth pastor was a force of nature in terms of her presence and personality, and she was very savvy in how she pushed the envelope topically in spite of her filling a ministerial role that was almost universally appointed to men...at least here in the deep South.
Keep in mind this was during the late '80s, and our youth ministry was undoubtedly the largest in the state of Mississippi. It had the resources / budget / facilities coupled with a dynamic, boundlessly energetic lady leading the way. She was literally a powerhouse. To this day, I've never witnessed a youth pastor with more zeal, compassion, and leadership skill. Cindy was literally larger than life to all of us. Needless to say, even back then, I knew I was part of something very special, and what a tremendous positive impact it made to not only my faith but my self-esteem! Our youth pastor, though she wasn't perfect, loved Rob and all of his quirks. And because of that, I was endeared to her as well as her husband despite my "choosing to exist in the background" approach. In particular, I'll always be indebted to her encouragement relative to my vocal skillset and subsequently, the many opportunities that were presented to me to utilize those talents there in church.
Surprisingly, this same woman eventually chose to lead our church's college ministry for a handful of years as well. This, I'll have to admit, was a little odd. It wasn't like First Baptist Church's budget was strapped for cash, and therefore couldn't afford to hire someone. Nevertheless, she also chose to take on this role, though it was soon obvious to almost everyone that she simply couldn't effectively translate her rigidly programmatic approach over to the older, more sophisticated / independently-minded college crowd.
There's no doubt too that college-age students are looking for substance. Meat if you will, if they choose to partake of church during this season of their lives. And that substance needs to be based in not only a thorough understanding of God's Word but a deep respect for it. It's not that Cindy didn't embody that statement, but it was impossible to not see her as a youth pastor first and foremost.
Thankfully, this is where her husband, Bill, at least in terms of her ministry, strategically complemented her.
Bill was in many ways the exact opposite of Cindy's persona, though he was no doubt similarly intelligent and articulate. He was the inevitable representative of a shadow (cast by her), until opportunity presented itself (on occasion) for him too to surprisingly flex his (just as adept) risk-taking muscles. And at times, he did so in the most unexpectedly manly ways.
-------------------------
I believe it was the summer after my sophomore year at Mississippi State. I was home for those two months, therefore I found myself fully engaged with my home church's college ministry. I remember participating in a rafting retreat somewhere in eastern Tennessee with this group and having such fun!
Afterwards, we returned to wherever it was that we were staying in order to rest up for our journey home the following day. From there, my memory is a bit fuzzy, but I believe Bill decided to take it upon himself to lead a Bible study to those who wished to participate. Therefore, a handful of us gathered together in some sort of common space or lobby, neatly tucked away in a quiet corner, anticipating being lead by Bible teaching Bill.
Physically, Bill was a small framed man. His wife, Cindy, was average height for a female, and he was only slightly taller than she. Bill, when he was assisting his wife with ministry at our church (in whatever role she put him in), was usually decked out in a dress shirt and slacks, the typical First Baptist Church uniform. What I'd never noticed though was despite his small stature, he was not, by definition, lean.
But this became readily apparent during this aforementioned rafting retreat Bible study due to the fact that he executed it bare chested.
Now, it wasn't like he was wearing dress slacks and no shirt. Everyone was simply lounging around in shorts and t-shirts, therefore he was as well, except of course, without his shirt on.
The Bible study wasn't brief. Bill was an excellent communicator / student of God's word. He taught with skill and passion, therefore us being typical sponge-like college students, we soaked in every word, asking lots of questions along the way. I remember I sat adjacent to Bill, and suffice to say, it took a few long minutes for me to get over my shock at seeing this man's nipples in living color.
Today, men's bodies are celebrated if they're hyper muscular, lean and hairless, and if you have any semblance of a six-pack, you're considered sexy and to be envied. This was not the case back in the late '80s / early '90s. During this era, men within photographic media didn't model themselves with their hyper muscular, hairless action figure bods. It simply wasn't the norm as it is today.
I am convinced the reason Bill taught Scripture to us bare chested is he needed to prove to himself and to us that he was more than what we'd known of him up to that point in time. In other words, he needed to be seen deeper than what we'd had the privilege of seeing prior, therefore he saw an appropriate opportunity with an appropriate age-group and took advantage of it.
[One thing I haven't mentioned is Bill, at the time, was teaching collegiate law classes (I did mention he was an attorney), therefore he understood the monumental maturity levels (on average) between secondary versus higher-ed students.]
From that day forward, my respect for this man increased tremendously, and of course, looking back, I'm grateful to have been a part of such an important reckoning. A reckoning where our understanding / respect of a cherished male leader expanded circumstantially.
My youth pastor was a force of nature in terms of her presence and personality, and she was very savvy in how she pushed the envelope topically in spite of her filling a ministerial role that was almost universally appointed to men...at least here in the deep South.
Keep in mind this was during the late '80s, and our youth ministry was undoubtedly the largest in the state of Mississippi. It had the resources / budget / facilities coupled with a dynamic, boundlessly energetic lady leading the way. She was literally a powerhouse. To this day, I've never witnessed a youth pastor with more zeal, compassion, and leadership skill. Cindy was literally larger than life to all of us. Needless to say, even back then, I knew I was part of something very special, and what a tremendous positive impact it made to not only my faith but my self-esteem! Our youth pastor, though she wasn't perfect, loved Rob and all of his quirks. And because of that, I was endeared to her as well as her husband despite my "choosing to exist in the background" approach. In particular, I'll always be indebted to her encouragement relative to my vocal skillset and subsequently, the many opportunities that were presented to me to utilize those talents there in church.
Surprisingly, this same woman eventually chose to lead our church's college ministry for a handful of years as well. This, I'll have to admit, was a little odd. It wasn't like First Baptist Church's budget was strapped for cash, and therefore couldn't afford to hire someone. Nevertheless, she also chose to take on this role, though it was soon obvious to almost everyone that she simply couldn't effectively translate her rigidly programmatic approach over to the older, more sophisticated / independently-minded college crowd.
There's no doubt too that college-age students are looking for substance. Meat if you will, if they choose to partake of church during this season of their lives. And that substance needs to be based in not only a thorough understanding of God's Word but a deep respect for it. It's not that Cindy didn't embody that statement, but it was impossible to not see her as a youth pastor first and foremost.
Thankfully, this is where her husband, Bill, at least in terms of her ministry, strategically complemented her.
Bill was in many ways the exact opposite of Cindy's persona, though he was no doubt similarly intelligent and articulate. He was the inevitable representative of a shadow (cast by her), until opportunity presented itself (on occasion) for him too to surprisingly flex his (just as adept) risk-taking muscles. And at times, he did so in the most unexpectedly manly ways.
-------------------------
I believe it was the summer after my sophomore year at Mississippi State. I was home for those two months, therefore I found myself fully engaged with my home church's college ministry. I remember participating in a rafting retreat somewhere in eastern Tennessee with this group and having such fun!
Afterwards, we returned to wherever it was that we were staying in order to rest up for our journey home the following day. From there, my memory is a bit fuzzy, but I believe Bill decided to take it upon himself to lead a Bible study to those who wished to participate. Therefore, a handful of us gathered together in some sort of common space or lobby, neatly tucked away in a quiet corner, anticipating being lead by Bible teaching Bill.
Physically, Bill was a small framed man. His wife, Cindy, was average height for a female, and he was only slightly taller than she. Bill, when he was assisting his wife with ministry at our church (in whatever role she put him in), was usually decked out in a dress shirt and slacks, the typical First Baptist Church uniform. What I'd never noticed though was despite his small stature, he was not, by definition, lean.
But this became readily apparent during this aforementioned rafting retreat Bible study due to the fact that he executed it bare chested.
Now, it wasn't like he was wearing dress slacks and no shirt. Everyone was simply lounging around in shorts and t-shirts, therefore he was as well, except of course, without his shirt on.
The Bible study wasn't brief. Bill was an excellent communicator / student of God's word. He taught with skill and passion, therefore us being typical sponge-like college students, we soaked in every word, asking lots of questions along the way. I remember I sat adjacent to Bill, and suffice to say, it took a few long minutes for me to get over my shock at seeing this man's nipples in living color.
And I must say, Bill had (at the time) an enviable bod of any present day guy, with even (if I remember correctly 25+ years ago) a defined six-pack, which made this event that much more unique. Who'd a thunk?
Today, men's bodies are celebrated if they're hyper muscular, lean and hairless, and if you have any semblance of a six-pack, you're considered sexy and to be envied. This was not the case back in the late '80s / early '90s. During this era, men within photographic media didn't model themselves with their hyper muscular, hairless action figure bods. It simply wasn't the norm as it is today.
I am convinced the reason Bill taught Scripture to us bare chested is he needed to prove to himself and to us that he was more than what we'd known of him up to that point in time. In other words, he needed to be seen deeper than what we'd had the privilege of seeing prior, therefore he saw an appropriate opportunity with an appropriate age-group and took advantage of it.
[One thing I haven't mentioned is Bill, at the time, was teaching collegiate law classes (I did mention he was an attorney), therefore he understood the monumental maturity levels (on average) between secondary versus higher-ed students.]
From that day forward, my respect for this man increased tremendously, and of course, looking back, I'm grateful to have been a part of such an important reckoning. A reckoning where our understanding / respect of a cherished male leader expanded circumstantially.
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
"Has Jesus Ever Masturbated?"
I'm no theologian, but no, Of Course Not.
And neither has your father or your grandfather. In fact, the only time they've ever used their hands to touch their weiners was to position it to take a piss or to scratch it. Even in the shower, they refrain from soaping up "down there" except with a washcloth.
Only you have been "guilty" of masturbating. Hence, your asking this perverted question.
And neither has your father or your grandfather. In fact, the only time they've ever used their hands to touch their weiners was to position it to take a piss or to scratch it. Even in the shower, they refrain from soaping up "down there" except with a washcloth.
Only you have been "guilty" of masturbating. Hence, your asking this perverted question.
Monday, May 20, 2019
"...& besides, men don't send each other letters."
The first time I became acutely aware that I was living in a state that was less than appreciated (national reputation) was my junior year in high school. My two best friends were both one year older than me, and both made a point to use their college career as an opportunity to exit Mississippi. One went to Colorado for her undergraduate degree and the other went to Tennessee, and neither ever returned permanently. In fact, one of the two's parents eventually moved away despite the fact that they were well into their middle years. I remember feeling like a leper for not buying into their higher education exit strategies from the standpoint of the obvious implied rejection by non-association. I had no desire to leave Mississippi. In fact, the notion of attending college (in state) over 2 hours away from my home (by car) amounted to plenty 'nough geographic separation for Rob from his home.
So what makes Mississippians distinct? People that live here are generous. It's their defining attribute. If you were to meld every Mississippian together to create one individual and stack him up against his melded counterparts from his 49 united cohorts, none would be more generous than he. Now, there would be savvier melded states, more intelligent, more creative, more refined, more ambitious and so forth, but none more generous than Mississippi. And of course, generosity is in no way revered culturally. On the other hand, Mississippi is brimming with deadbeats and the marginalized, and these are mainly men whose outlook is short-term. All of this combined can make for a weird assemblage that looks on the surface to many as either unworkable / unsustainable for the long-term. Hence, our tendency to eek / freak out newcomers.
Neither of my high school friends were generous individuals and the 'rents of the one who also moved out of Mississippi were cut from the same cloth as their daughter, therefore it's understandable that they would want out. I get that now, but back then, it hurt to be disparaged for being at peace with my home. That being said, I do not hold in disregard anyone who looks down on our state. There is much here that demands an acquired taste.
To me, generosity is no more noteworthy than any other attribute from the standpoint of being a cultural identifier. It takes all kinds to make up the great US of A, but know this, living amongst people who overall hold generosity up, does make for a sweet existence. It's really nice to be cared for and to be treated well overall as you go about the inevitable mundane routine of life.
We have friends who just recently saw their oldest son and daughter in-law return to Mississippi from living out of state for +/-5 years. Having been reared here, their experiencing the absence of this spirit of generousness within another place caused regret to set in, therefore they've since returned. They're not sure how they'll make it work vocationally, but they're proud to be back home.
-------------------------
Years ago, I had the privilege of meeting a new neighbor who took the initiative to thank me for some volunteer work I'd signed up for in our 'hood. He was a bachelor, we were both in our early 30s, and he made no qualms about loving his somewhat new home here in Mississippi despite the fact that he was a Texan by birth.
This was a first for me, meeting a transplant who adored the Magnolia state. This guy actually would take vacation / weekend road trips on his own throughout various regions of Mississippi. I can remember him showing me various photo albums he'd created containing snapshots of iconic Mississippi buildings and so forth, many of which I'd had the privilege of knowing of throughout my life due to my heritage.
So here we were. A new friendship. I was excited! Especially considering his admiration for my home state.
But then I decided to send him a very personal letter...
------------------------
I can still remember my follow up telephone call after sending my correspondence. His words (some of which make up the title to this post) stung.
Essentially, I had disclosed too much, too fast about my story, therefore in lieu of me wanting to "efficiently" mature the friendship forward, he felt lambasted instead, therefore he immediately rejected me outright on the grounds that spending any further time with Rob would "make him too uncomfortable". Ouch.
I don't think I'll ever forget the emotional fallout from that short-lived friendship, but one thing positive that I did learn from it was to never discount my own platonic needs. There had been plenty of friendships up to that point that were not unlike the ones I had in high school with my none too generous friends. These friendships were characterized as being surface, shallow. They were built on routine or circumstance. A shared Sunday School class or work setting, etc. I'd grown tired of those for they offered me nothing except an opportunity to be annoyed at my own pretending to have my life put together expertly.
-------------------------
I have emotional needs that I want met via my friendships with other men (& so do you). Samson Society offers a wellspring of guys who I've found are willing to work towards meeting those needs. I've told people before, and I'll say it again, that Samson Society tends to attract some of the most generous guys you'll likely ever meet. They tend to look for opportunities to care for their brothers in Christ as they also in tandem look out for their best interests.
Is it perfect? Of course not. Is there sometimes disappointment? Yep. But, it's not a two-man group. There's scale here for those inevitable relational imperfections, and even if you choose to communicate with a paper and pen (like I tend to do), you'll likely find your place eventually. Thanks be to God for Samson Society.
So what makes Mississippians distinct? People that live here are generous. It's their defining attribute. If you were to meld every Mississippian together to create one individual and stack him up against his melded counterparts from his 49 united cohorts, none would be more generous than he. Now, there would be savvier melded states, more intelligent, more creative, more refined, more ambitious and so forth, but none more generous than Mississippi. And of course, generosity is in no way revered culturally. On the other hand, Mississippi is brimming with deadbeats and the marginalized, and these are mainly men whose outlook is short-term. All of this combined can make for a weird assemblage that looks on the surface to many as either unworkable / unsustainable for the long-term. Hence, our tendency to eek / freak out newcomers.
Neither of my high school friends were generous individuals and the 'rents of the one who also moved out of Mississippi were cut from the same cloth as their daughter, therefore it's understandable that they would want out. I get that now, but back then, it hurt to be disparaged for being at peace with my home. That being said, I do not hold in disregard anyone who looks down on our state. There is much here that demands an acquired taste.
To me, generosity is no more noteworthy than any other attribute from the standpoint of being a cultural identifier. It takes all kinds to make up the great US of A, but know this, living amongst people who overall hold generosity up, does make for a sweet existence. It's really nice to be cared for and to be treated well overall as you go about the inevitable mundane routine of life.
We have friends who just recently saw their oldest son and daughter in-law return to Mississippi from living out of state for +/-5 years. Having been reared here, their experiencing the absence of this spirit of generousness within another place caused regret to set in, therefore they've since returned. They're not sure how they'll make it work vocationally, but they're proud to be back home.
-------------------------
Years ago, I had the privilege of meeting a new neighbor who took the initiative to thank me for some volunteer work I'd signed up for in our 'hood. He was a bachelor, we were both in our early 30s, and he made no qualms about loving his somewhat new home here in Mississippi despite the fact that he was a Texan by birth.
This was a first for me, meeting a transplant who adored the Magnolia state. This guy actually would take vacation / weekend road trips on his own throughout various regions of Mississippi. I can remember him showing me various photo albums he'd created containing snapshots of iconic Mississippi buildings and so forth, many of which I'd had the privilege of knowing of throughout my life due to my heritage.
So here we were. A new friendship. I was excited! Especially considering his admiration for my home state.
But then I decided to send him a very personal letter...
------------------------
I can still remember my follow up telephone call after sending my correspondence. His words (some of which make up the title to this post) stung.
Essentially, I had disclosed too much, too fast about my story, therefore in lieu of me wanting to "efficiently" mature the friendship forward, he felt lambasted instead, therefore he immediately rejected me outright on the grounds that spending any further time with Rob would "make him too uncomfortable". Ouch.
I don't think I'll ever forget the emotional fallout from that short-lived friendship, but one thing positive that I did learn from it was to never discount my own platonic needs. There had been plenty of friendships up to that point that were not unlike the ones I had in high school with my none too generous friends. These friendships were characterized as being surface, shallow. They were built on routine or circumstance. A shared Sunday School class or work setting, etc. I'd grown tired of those for they offered me nothing except an opportunity to be annoyed at my own pretending to have my life put together expertly.
-------------------------
I have emotional needs that I want met via my friendships with other men (& so do you). Samson Society offers a wellspring of guys who I've found are willing to work towards meeting those needs. I've told people before, and I'll say it again, that Samson Society tends to attract some of the most generous guys you'll likely ever meet. They tend to look for opportunities to care for their brothers in Christ as they also in tandem look out for their best interests.
Is it perfect? Of course not. Is there sometimes disappointment? Yep. But, it's not a two-man group. There's scale here for those inevitable relational imperfections, and even if you choose to communicate with a paper and pen (like I tend to do), you'll likely find your place eventually. Thanks be to God for Samson Society.
Thursday, May 16, 2019
The Miserable Truth about Mentorship / Growing a third testicle
I was privileged to attend a professional college (at a state university) which (after 5 grueling years) ushered me a professional degree. That degree, in order to fully take advantage of it, required that I be dubbed an intern for a certain time period prior to me being eligible to take a 9-part licensing exam. That internship lasted +/-4 years, and during my schooling, it was referred to often as the opportunity for "real world experience" to be melded into my education.
I did pass the licensing exam, therefore I suppose the collegiate academia combined with my internship worked as it was designed to.
In tandem with the start of my internship, also not long after I graduated from college, I became involved in a regional, parachurch men's ministry. The premise of the ministry was to minister to "young business men with leadership traits" (this was actually integrated into the ministry's name). Well, I was young (mid to early 20s), and I did work for a business. But, there was also a leadership expectation there which didn't fit the young Rob in the least. I was officially an intern during this time, and goshdarnit, I certainly felt as such. Hence, I was hungry for some leading.
This parachurch ministry organized weekly small group Bible studies, paring up men in groups to meet wherever they saw fit. I ended up in a group of 4, lead by the coolest Christian man I'd ever known and since ever known (by far). He was incredibly laid back and knowledgeable of Scripture. Plus, he was just cool. Very, very cool.
Months went by as we met weekly to study God's word. We grew close together as friends as our commitment to our time together grew. It was more fun (& enriching) than I'd ever had at 6:30 AM!
Eventually, I gathered up the nerve after the close of one of our study times to ask our fearless, carefree leader (who was +/-5 years my senior) if we might take the group in a more personal direction. If we might share our "testimonies" (that's '90s-speak for personal stories).
In response to my inquiry, our leader turned to me, handed me his copy of our "meeting book", and said, "If that's the direction you'd like to take this group, you go right ahead, but leave me out of it."
From there, he turned and walked out of my buddy's apartment. I never spoke to him again after that. And as you might imagine, our group soon fell apart. None of us younger men had the leadership skillset needed to keep it going. He essentially was the light that we were all drawn to, week after week.
-------------------------
Throughout my college career, despite the fact that the faculty within the professional school I attended were licensed pros, I never once saw any viable mentor (outside of an academic). Now, keep in mind that for me, Christianity played a huge role in who I chose to look up to. But, that being said, I wasn't necessarily looking for a saint. Just a man who attested to believe in Scripture's inerrancy and ultimately in his life being monumentally more than an accident / opportunity to consistently seek out happiness / self-pleasure.
The biggest blow to my pursuit for a mentor came professionally. I simply couldn't separate my desire to find a Christian mentor from my career because I had invested so much time and effort in it for all those years prior. Again, I was simply looking for someone who knew my story and who was willing to share their own. The majority of those in my profession (at that time) were men. At one point, I worked for 4 distinct male shareholders, and spent an awful lot of time with one or two in particular. Though by my 8 or 9th year there, I'd lost hope in seeing my desire to be mentored come to fruition.
So, what is a mentor? What exactly was I looking for?
An older Christian man that I could relate to (on some level), and this relation had to occur by each of us being willing to share our (or at least a portion of) own stories. This man would offer encouragement simply by making himself vulnerable to me. Ideally, this man would make himself available to me in order for me to experience his investing in Rob. And perhaps the end result would be him establishing a horizontal friendship with me outright. How awesome that would have been!
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Men who've been mentored by other men are in the same category as men who have 3 testicles or who've fathered more than 10 children. (Perhaps those are one and the same men actually). It's rare indeed.
Why is this so?
Because if you never experience mentorship that's healthy, fulfilling, you'll likely never be qualified / enlightened to reciprocate the favor to a younger man due to the fact that quality mentorship brings about heart change. Heart change is a big deal. And it's that change that motivates / levels up a man to minister / mentor other men.
If you consider African elephants and the behavior of the males amongst the herd, the key indicator that you'll have an orderly, healthy, functioning group - particularly if you have a number of younger males present - is tantamount to the herd having some older bull elephants present. If you poach that older male(s), the younger males will oftentimes create disorder amongst the herd, and of course, disorder can spell disaster for a herd trying to survive on the African tundra.
So what do we do? How do we solve this miserable problem of there simply being no available mentors?
My approach has been to glean from sources what I can, always on the lookout for more opportunities to be mentored, even if it's in very small, episodic doses. This may seem unrealistic, whereas throwing one's hands up in the air and decreeing surrender seems warranted, but I've found that by doing this, it puts you in a better position to someday grow a third testicle.
And that's what you want to achieve ultimately. There's something some kind of special that comes about from mentoring a younger man. It is an honor and privilege to do so because that process serves to cancel out the backwash of misery that comes from attempting to do life (as a young man) on your own. And oh man, was I ever miserable.
I did pass the licensing exam, therefore I suppose the collegiate academia combined with my internship worked as it was designed to.
In tandem with the start of my internship, also not long after I graduated from college, I became involved in a regional, parachurch men's ministry. The premise of the ministry was to minister to "young business men with leadership traits" (this was actually integrated into the ministry's name). Well, I was young (mid to early 20s), and I did work for a business. But, there was also a leadership expectation there which didn't fit the young Rob in the least. I was officially an intern during this time, and goshdarnit, I certainly felt as such. Hence, I was hungry for some leading.
This parachurch ministry organized weekly small group Bible studies, paring up men in groups to meet wherever they saw fit. I ended up in a group of 4, lead by the coolest Christian man I'd ever known and since ever known (by far). He was incredibly laid back and knowledgeable of Scripture. Plus, he was just cool. Very, very cool.
Months went by as we met weekly to study God's word. We grew close together as friends as our commitment to our time together grew. It was more fun (& enriching) than I'd ever had at 6:30 AM!
Eventually, I gathered up the nerve after the close of one of our study times to ask our fearless, carefree leader (who was +/-5 years my senior) if we might take the group in a more personal direction. If we might share our "testimonies" (that's '90s-speak for personal stories).
In response to my inquiry, our leader turned to me, handed me his copy of our "meeting book", and said, "If that's the direction you'd like to take this group, you go right ahead, but leave me out of it."
From there, he turned and walked out of my buddy's apartment. I never spoke to him again after that. And as you might imagine, our group soon fell apart. None of us younger men had the leadership skillset needed to keep it going. He essentially was the light that we were all drawn to, week after week.
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Throughout my college career, despite the fact that the faculty within the professional school I attended were licensed pros, I never once saw any viable mentor (outside of an academic). Now, keep in mind that for me, Christianity played a huge role in who I chose to look up to. But, that being said, I wasn't necessarily looking for a saint. Just a man who attested to believe in Scripture's inerrancy and ultimately in his life being monumentally more than an accident / opportunity to consistently seek out happiness / self-pleasure.
The biggest blow to my pursuit for a mentor came professionally. I simply couldn't separate my desire to find a Christian mentor from my career because I had invested so much time and effort in it for all those years prior. Again, I was simply looking for someone who knew my story and who was willing to share their own. The majority of those in my profession (at that time) were men. At one point, I worked for 4 distinct male shareholders, and spent an awful lot of time with one or two in particular. Though by my 8 or 9th year there, I'd lost hope in seeing my desire to be mentored come to fruition.
So, what is a mentor? What exactly was I looking for?
An older Christian man that I could relate to (on some level), and this relation had to occur by each of us being willing to share our (or at least a portion of) own stories. This man would offer encouragement simply by making himself vulnerable to me. Ideally, this man would make himself available to me in order for me to experience his investing in Rob. And perhaps the end result would be him establishing a horizontal friendship with me outright. How awesome that would have been!
-------------------------
Men who've been mentored by other men are in the same category as men who have 3 testicles or who've fathered more than 10 children. (Perhaps those are one and the same men actually). It's rare indeed.
Why is this so?
Because if you never experience mentorship that's healthy, fulfilling, you'll likely never be qualified / enlightened to reciprocate the favor to a younger man due to the fact that quality mentorship brings about heart change. Heart change is a big deal. And it's that change that motivates / levels up a man to minister / mentor other men.
If you consider African elephants and the behavior of the males amongst the herd, the key indicator that you'll have an orderly, healthy, functioning group - particularly if you have a number of younger males present - is tantamount to the herd having some older bull elephants present. If you poach that older male(s), the younger males will oftentimes create disorder amongst the herd, and of course, disorder can spell disaster for a herd trying to survive on the African tundra.
So what do we do? How do we solve this miserable problem of there simply being no available mentors?
My approach has been to glean from sources what I can, always on the lookout for more opportunities to be mentored, even if it's in very small, episodic doses. This may seem unrealistic, whereas throwing one's hands up in the air and decreeing surrender seems warranted, but I've found that by doing this, it puts you in a better position to someday grow a third testicle.
And that's what you want to achieve ultimately. There's something some kind of special that comes about from mentoring a younger man. It is an honor and privilege to do so because that process serves to cancel out the backwash of misery that comes from attempting to do life (as a young man) on your own. And oh man, was I ever miserable.
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
U: Talks too much in class
Throughout my early elementary school years, I always, on every report card I received, earned an "Unsatisfactory" for "Talks too much in class.
As an only child, I learned early on that in order to gain the attention I craved from those around me (other children or adults), I could simply talk incessantly at them, forcing them to pay heed to my words. It didn't take long before I ran out of things to communicate, therefore I then began to simply make it up as I went along. Lying, I knew was wrong; it even felt wrong, but I absolutely did not want to shut up. Therefore, I literally made up whatever farcical tales I could in order to keep my motor mouth in gear.
Eventually, around 5th grade, I came home to my mother in tears, having plastered scripture verses related to lying all over my bedroom. She demanded that I re-think my approach to garnering attention. And I did. Her concern forced me to re-think the unequivocally unstable foundation I was choosing to build my persona upon.
Now, there's chatty and there's talking incessantly. Two distinct descriptors there with the latter being what I was as a boy. I mean literally my jawbone would ache at the end of the day.
My wife on the other hand, as a girl (& even throughout high school as a young lady) was the complete opposite. No amount of torture on planet Earth could persuade Angie to speak. Ever. To her every word was precious, therefore her mantra was "Why dialogue when you could simply smile instead?" (She didn't actually say this of course, but she did think it...often.)
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Many years ago, I became fast friends with a man in south MS through my position as a staff architect with the state of MS. He and I were close to the same age, I had a couple of small children, and he and his second wife were expecting their first. Donnie (not his real name) eventually suffered tremendous tragedy through the loss of this expentant child immediately following her birth. In response to this, I did what I could despite our long-distance friendship to minister to him during this difficult season.
One weekday afternoon, I made my way unannounced to his office to check in with him. It was right after lunch, and he happened to be in. From there, I sat in his office and listened for over 4 hours, many of his words spoken through tears. I remember being so absorbed by his words that I don't even think I stepped out to pee. He recanted the birth, burial, his wife's reaction, and on and on. It was a completely appropriate diatribe that I felt honored to partake in.
I remember sleeping like a baby that night yet feeling overwhelmingly spent over the next few days as I lead bureaucratic planning meetings. I was satisfied in choosing to visit with Donnie as I did, now carrying with me some of the sadness he had brought for me to bear.
Over time, my south MS friend and I grew distant as I moved on from that position with the state of MS. He and his wife did eventually get pregnant again and went on to have 2 (or possibly more) healthy children. I will always cherish my memories of his friendship.
-------------------------
People tell me (sometimes) that I'm a good listener. But, to be honest, I'm not nearly as gracious as I should be with my ears. A few months back, a prospective Samson Society attendee met me for breakfast, and after an hour of listening to his story, I simply cut him off, telling him in so many words that if he was going to join in the fun of Samson, he was going to have to throttle back on the verbiage.
Needless to say, he never showed up for a meeting.
What I need to remember is I started out as a boy in that place where talking was all I knew how to do, and despite the fact that I'm beyond that strategy for relating to other members of the human race, it doesn't mean I'm now qualified to look down on those who either haven't or chosen not to.
Talk is cheap, yes, but there are times when it's all a man seems to have. Remember that Rob. Otherwise you just come across as arrogant.
As an only child, I learned early on that in order to gain the attention I craved from those around me (other children or adults), I could simply talk incessantly at them, forcing them to pay heed to my words. It didn't take long before I ran out of things to communicate, therefore I then began to simply make it up as I went along. Lying, I knew was wrong; it even felt wrong, but I absolutely did not want to shut up. Therefore, I literally made up whatever farcical tales I could in order to keep my motor mouth in gear.
Eventually, around 5th grade, I came home to my mother in tears, having plastered scripture verses related to lying all over my bedroom. She demanded that I re-think my approach to garnering attention. And I did. Her concern forced me to re-think the unequivocally unstable foundation I was choosing to build my persona upon.
Now, there's chatty and there's talking incessantly. Two distinct descriptors there with the latter being what I was as a boy. I mean literally my jawbone would ache at the end of the day.
My wife on the other hand, as a girl (& even throughout high school as a young lady) was the complete opposite. No amount of torture on planet Earth could persuade Angie to speak. Ever. To her every word was precious, therefore her mantra was "Why dialogue when you could simply smile instead?" (She didn't actually say this of course, but she did think it...often.)
-------------------------
Many years ago, I became fast friends with a man in south MS through my position as a staff architect with the state of MS. He and I were close to the same age, I had a couple of small children, and he and his second wife were expecting their first. Donnie (not his real name) eventually suffered tremendous tragedy through the loss of this expentant child immediately following her birth. In response to this, I did what I could despite our long-distance friendship to minister to him during this difficult season.
One weekday afternoon, I made my way unannounced to his office to check in with him. It was right after lunch, and he happened to be in. From there, I sat in his office and listened for over 4 hours, many of his words spoken through tears. I remember being so absorbed by his words that I don't even think I stepped out to pee. He recanted the birth, burial, his wife's reaction, and on and on. It was a completely appropriate diatribe that I felt honored to partake in.
I remember sleeping like a baby that night yet feeling overwhelmingly spent over the next few days as I lead bureaucratic planning meetings. I was satisfied in choosing to visit with Donnie as I did, now carrying with me some of the sadness he had brought for me to bear.
Over time, my south MS friend and I grew distant as I moved on from that position with the state of MS. He and his wife did eventually get pregnant again and went on to have 2 (or possibly more) healthy children. I will always cherish my memories of his friendship.
-------------------------
People tell me (sometimes) that I'm a good listener. But, to be honest, I'm not nearly as gracious as I should be with my ears. A few months back, a prospective Samson Society attendee met me for breakfast, and after an hour of listening to his story, I simply cut him off, telling him in so many words that if he was going to join in the fun of Samson, he was going to have to throttle back on the verbiage.
Needless to say, he never showed up for a meeting.
What I need to remember is I started out as a boy in that place where talking was all I knew how to do, and despite the fact that I'm beyond that strategy for relating to other members of the human race, it doesn't mean I'm now qualified to look down on those who either haven't or chosen not to.
Talk is cheap, yes, but there are times when it's all a man seems to have. Remember that Rob. Otherwise you just come across as arrogant.
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