It's Dark Out There

People are suffering right now.  Hopelessness.  Bleakness.  Desperation.  Outrage.

Incomes are being affected.  That's scary stuff.  How to pay bills?  How to save for retirement?  How to...?

And then there's the fear of being infected with this life-threatening virus, and of course, how long all of this might last.

I'm beginning to see this up close.  Friends especially who've been hit by this unprejudiced wave seemingly overnight.

Considering all of that...

It is a fact that today, means of communication are available to all of us which are almost instantaneous.  But considering especially when it comes to our pocketbooks being negatively impacted, this is new, very private territory for many people.

"When it comes to my pocketbook, ain't none of your damn business!"

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When Angie and I had our first child, our bills exceeded my income.  We knew this was coming during her pregnancy, therefore we prepared by me seeking out a second job which in turn ended up being janitorial work.  And, oh my goodness, the embarrassment!  To not be able to pay our bills with my singular "professional grade" income was so humiliating that I kept it hidden from everyone (even my 'rents).

But we knew that difficult change was coming due to the fact that we'd chosen to reduce our income substantially.  That's the vital difference.  Knowing what's coming versus being blindsided.  Too, how are men expected to go to similar lengths when they can't even leave their homes by order of state government?

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In closing, our culture hasn't changed.  Men are still sinners.  Therefore, opportunities abound for all of us to medicate any and all suffering with their digital / cultural wares.  All the while justifying the behavior through our hopelessness, bleakness, desperation, anger...

Don't do it.

Instead, invest that pain into someone within the Samson community.  Allow them the privilege of walking with you.  Let your suffering gain some present purpose in that regard.  You will not regret it.  But you must choose firstly to commit to what's best for you.

Lagniappe

When Will You Make Prayer A Priority?

My plea to you tonight my brother is to stop.  Stop justifying the neglect of your prayer life.  Stop putting everything else in front of it.  If you can prioritize meeting your genital's needs, you can put the same energy and desire behind prayer.

You say you have no time to pray.  No appropriate setting.  Some of you say that you have no words to pray.  Those are excuses that reveal you're simply not taking this vital part of your role as a Christian man seriously.

When are you going to get with the program by joining the countless other saints who've gone before us in making prayer a priority within their lives?

It's time to start now.  Today.

Pit Them Against Each Other With Minimal Clear Direction Or Oversight; Then Take The Time To Stir The Pot

Being employed within an environment where one's supervisor manages via the unspoken, inferred rivalry technique is pure misery.  I've been there.  In fact, I can recall days where I was so miserable that literally nothing got done (other than me surfing for Internet porn).  Please know that I'm so ashamed to admit to that.

To be more specific, this was a work environment where there were few discernible long-term goals (for me or anyone else), minuscule amounts of helpful feedback / guidance, and lots of unhealthy interpersonal dynamics that were ongoing and seemingly off limits to address.

These circumstances are like living in a prison.  Day after day.  Or at least for me it was.  And understandably, this particular job's demerits didn't initially suffocate / choke me as they did much further down the road.  This must have been due to two truths.  One was my individual maturation as an employee, and the other was literally how "emotionally infected" I was slowly becoming over time via the environment itself.  During those last few years there, constant anger would simmer beneath the surface as I tried to cope, hoping forlornly that someday things would improve for the better for me and my colleagues.

Perhaps there are men out there who thrive within this sort of environment, but if so, I can't imagine they're emotionally healthy individuals.

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But what's far worse is when a man's home life reflects this.  Where his wife, in particular, sets this sort of toxic standard in motion, pitting everyone around her against each other.

What's stunning to me is many men live and endure within this kind of familial hellhole and have since the beginning of time.  It's Biblical (see Isaac & Rebekah's sunset years story in Genesis).

Know too that THERE ARE PLENTY OF HUSBANDS / FATHERS WHO NEVERTHELESS MANAGE JUST THE SAME, but hopefully, I'm speaking here to those who know better.

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What's to be done then, when you find yourself within one or perhaps (God forbid) both of these situations simultaneously as a man?

Find a healthy release valve like Samson Society first and foremost.  It's not always feasible to up and find a new job (circumstantially or economically).  I know for me, when I was in this situation vocationally, my children were small and my wife was staying home to rear them, therefore starting fresh elsewhere simply wasn't feasible at that time.  In other words, my tenure (overall) as the breadwinner was more important to me than my pain.

Speaking specifically to toxic marriages as described here, seek out marriage counseling either through a pro or your pastor.  And if your wife refuses to go, then go alone.

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What not to do:

-  Lose sight of the fact that it doesn't take much, if any, managerial competence to become a business owner, and within a similar vein, much, if any emotional health to become a man's wife.
-  Talk bad about your employer / your spouse to your friends, relatives or anyone else.  Just because others are being critical of you behind your back doesn't give you the right as a Christian to do the same to / of them.
-  Grow bitter
-  Grow resentful
-  Lose hope
-  Lose your sense of humor
-  Stop caring for yourself*

*Stupidly investing in booze, drugs, lust (Internet porn or otherwise) in lieu of regular exercise, journaling, Bible study, prayer, and of course, Samson Society.

Our Faith Is The Comprehension That Our Lives Are Built Upon

Exotic garage in Monaco - summer of 1994

My friend Bryan admiring a Ferrari 456GT.  The most beautiful GT car I've ever seen.

One of the most magnificent experiences I've lived through was teaching my 3 daughters to both swim and ride bicycles (albeit not at the same time).  As children, our brains are malleable.  Comprehending complex yet natural skills therefore happen with aplomb.  And I would argue this is especially the case when trust is involved between parent and child / teacher and pupil.  It is a tremendous experience to behold as it pays homage to how expertly children are knitted together by God.

Jesus cited having faith "like a child" within Scripture.  I've always equated this to simplistic, almost dumbed-down thinking, but not anymore.  Instead, I now see it as a comprehensive understanding that's under girded by an innate sense of order / hierarchy, none of which is lost on children due to how hyper-absorbent / malleable their young minds truly are.

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When I was either a sophomore or junior in high school (I believe I was a junior), I ended up within a study hall class due to me needing to stay 'till the end of the school day for band (6th period).  That study hall met in the high school library.  It amounted to 50 minutes of free time for Rob every day right after lunch.  I recall everyone having to sit at round tables in complete silence, therefore as you can imagine boredom set in quickly.

One day, a Motor Trend magazine caught my eye on the magazine stand.

Never had I read anything (that I recall) on automobiles, therefore I was ignorant through and through other than what little marketing I'd been exposed to on TV.  Surprisingly, something clicked within my brain upon me reading of this massively complex free enterprise narrative / industry, and from there, I found that I simply couldn't put Motor Trend down 'till I'd read and re-read every page.  Therefore, I would wait expectantly each month for the next issue to appear on the magazine stand, and usually within just a few days, I'd have consumed the entire publication.  The subject itself was fascinating to me.  I'd no idea what amounted to the industry of automobiles 'till it was presented to me within this periodical.

In summary, thanks to that required high school study hall, Rob quickly became a lifelong automobile aficionado.

And most importantly, what I found internally, was the avalanche of comprehensive knowledge I was gaining was illuminating in real time my understanding of the automotive landscape newly set before me.  It truly was an experience akin to peeking behind the curtain in order to fully understand who / what was in control of the great Oz.  And this was something I'd neither any ability nor interest to do prior to stumbling upon Motor Trend as a teenage boy.  

I cannot underestimate to you, dear reader, how impactful this was to me as an individual.  I even ended up selling cars at Howard Wilson Chrysler / Plymouth in Jackson during the summer of 1991 (in between my freshman and sophomore year in college)!  It was such fun.  Plus, I made a lot of $$$ (#1 salesman for both June and July).

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Faith is a gift of God's to man.  It's different from trust in that trust is built on unspoken rules established between two (or more) individuals.  Faith is not like that at all.  Instead, it's more like an awakening or enlightenment pertaining to something too massive / complex, and to do it justice takes firstly an understanding that no real human expert on faith has existed except God's son, Jesus, who is our king / high priest.

But like the intrinsic knowledge of what an automobile manufacturer's chassis or platform may be, in terms of its purpose / design within the grand narrative of automobiledom, our childlike faith provides a rudimentary, highly conceptual understanding of the language / colors / narrative behind God's sovereignty here on Earth.  That's the best way I know to describe it.

Of course, reading God's word promulgates what I would argue could be described as an adult-like faith.  No doubt that's why the entire Old Testament, in particular, exists for us.  39 books to read and re-read.

May our eyes be opened more and more as our faith allows us to comprehend in proportion to our Heavenly Father's commitment and love for us.

And if faith hasn't clicked for you today, I pray that it soon will.  It changes everything for the better.

Winter Sunset - Rural Yazoo county, MS

Autumn sunset - Destin, FL

Lagniappe

My Hope In The Shadows

Sitting here at my computer and staring out the window, I ponder how it is an unusually overcast and gloomy day for late March. Outside, the wind blows noisily through the trees, stirring up a chill that permeates the spring air and causes me to release an involuntary shiver from within. Belatedly, I realize that I have left the bedroom window cracked open, and now the whistling wind rushing through has brought with it a coldness that begins to fill the room.

Oftentimes when I become distracted, my mind tends to drift away and carry me to a faraway place somewhere in my past. Although there are quite a few moments in my past that I repressed for many years, there are still many that I remember quite fondly. It is these moments that come flooding back during idle daydreams, bringing a warm touch to fill my being. Indeed, they bring a smile to my face as I vicariously relive them through my memory. The gloomy chill that fills the air on this cold Saturday slowly gives way to a warm summery day as I sit and let my mind carry me to another time.

I often like to tell people that as a child and adolescent of the 80s and 90s, I grew up in a world that was simultaneously analog and digital. As a kid growing up in rural Mississippi in the late 80s and early 90s, electronic objects to occupy our time were far and few in between; in fact, they were virtually non-existent in my household. As a result, my younger brother and I were often left to our own devices in the summertime, and it was up to us to create our own forms of entertainment. Although we grew up in a small rural town and lived part of those years in the remote countryside, I do not recall us ever being bored. Whether it was having mud-track races behind the shed with our toy cars, fishing in the pond, or zipping through the pasture in our two-seater go-cart in search of our next adventure, we were never bored. One of our favorite pastimes, and a real summertime treat to us, was going to one of three local creeks for an adventure day. Within the wide banks of these creeks, the noisy waters flowed swiftly and created a wonderful backdrop for many summertime adventures. My brother and I were both accomplished swimmers, and the creeks were not big enough to ever permit fear of drowning to enter our minds. 
      Our favorite creek was the beautiful White Sand Creek just down the road from our home. We could literally walk to it from our house and for two young Mississippi boys, it might as well have been heaven. This magical place was the setting for many a summer adventure; in this place, the waters flowed swift and clear, and the beautiful white sand bars felt like a fiery powder under our feet as we ran across them chasing each other. We spent our time alternately splashing around in the water and then searching for treasures such as pieces of driftwood or unusual rocks that we would find lining the banks of the creek. We delighted in digging crawdads out of their holes. If we were lucky, we might spot a frog or perhaps a turtle or two sunning itself on a log. Attempts to catch the turtles were usually futile, as the elusive reptiles seemed to have an inherent sense of our presence and jump into the water before we could reach them. There were times when we would engage in games of hide and seek as we hid in the bushes that lined one bank of the creek. Other times we would float on our backs and see how far the current would carry us downstream before mother began to holler at us and tell us to come back. Sometimes, we would simply sit at the water’s edge in a shallow pool of water and watch the water as it ebbed and flowed around our bodies. We had moments where we would roughhouse, as young brothers are often apt to do, taking turns dunking each other in the water. I remember sometimes just simply sitting there on the banks of the creek, basking in the warm summer sun as I watched the waters flow by.

Even as a kid, I had a very active imagination, and I was often prone to daydreaming (which sometimes happened at the most inopportune times such as during lessons at school). One day, I noticed how at times, the clouds would cross the sun's path, creating dancing shadows that would dart across the landscape. On one side of the creek, was a large forest that seemed scary to my young self. It was filled with bushes and giant hardwood trees that towered as high as the heavens. On the other side of the creek was a broad meadow of Technicolor green filled with cows who would briefly pause their grazing to look up and watch us as we swam in the creek. I loved to watch the shadows move across the meadow, and I took notice of the various shapes and patterns they would make. Sometimes, the clouds would come and the shadows would stay in place, signaling an impending summer storm looming on the horizon. When the clouds covered the landscape, they brought with them, temporary relief from the blazing summer sun. The air would get cooler, and the swiftly flowing waters would for a moment in time, seem darker and scarier. The cool waters that we had played in only moments before suddenly became a bottomless pit of eternal inky depths. Eventually, the clouds would part and I would turn my face to the sky, embracing the return of the sun’s warmth. 

Young Pip, following Estella in Great Expectations (1946)

Life is full of light and shadows. Ever since those early days of my childhood, I have been continually fascinated with the shapes, sizes, and movements of shadows. Sometimes, when the opportunity presents itself, I enjoy sitting outside as I watch the shadows dance their perfectly choreographed dance routine, dancing and fading in and out, synchronized to a mysterious number known only to nature. Part of this fascination is what led me to write a Master’s thesis on David Lean’s use of light and shadow in his film adaptations of Dickens’ Great Expectations (1946) and Oliver Twist (1948). One of my all-time favorite books is Great Expectations and Lean’s ending deviated significantly from that of Dickens’; this was done in order to give viewers a happier ending. In Lean’s adaptation, Pip rushes into the interior of a ruined mansion to rescue his childhood sweetheart, Estella. In this ruined place, Estella sits in the darkness surrounded by objects in various states of decay. In what I believe is one of the most memorable moments in post-World War II British cinematography, Pip rushes into the room, yanks down the rotted draperies and throws open the windows. He shouts out to Estella, “I have come back to let in the sunlight…. Look, Estella, nothing here but dust and decay!” Pip was aware that nothing can live or thrive in the darkness of night. As he threw open the windows to let in the sunlight, he symbolically saved Estella from the shadows that cloaked her life.

I have come to let in the light, Estella!

Sometimes in our own lives, shadows come and cast darkness over every aspect of our lives. Sometimes, these shadows are only temporary, and they quickly pass by as they did across the pastoral landscape on those long-ago summer days. Other times, the shadows come, sink in, and begin to weave themselves into the tapestry of our lives. When this happens over a period of time, we may not even be aware of how faintly the diminished and filtered light illuminates our lives. Just a few short years after those summer days at the creek, I would begin to get lost in my own shadows. These shadows would follow me around for many years and would keep me from walking in the light that I so desperately needed to be walking in during my formative and adolescent years. I lost my way for a very long time. Finding the Samson Society nearly 5 ½ years ago marked the beginning of my being able to emerge from my own shadows. To be able to walk forward with boldness and courage in my life. To allow the light back into my life as I ripped down my own rotted draperies. To admit my great, and continual need for other men who would walk with me and keep me from making a wrong turn that would ultimately lead back into the shadows. Men who would also call me out and point me back to the cross of Christ.

We’re living in uncertain times right now. All we need do is turn on the news and we feel that there is a metaphorical shadow covering our world right now. We can’t let these shadows of doubt fill our lives and take root. In my own life, living in the shadows led to hopelessness and despair and could have very well been fatal. I don’t know what kind of things or repressed thoughts hide in your own shadows, but I do know that nothing can grow or thrive in that space. Fortunately, with Samson, we have the gift of a lifeline given to us; it is crucial that we continue walking alongside other brothers and with them, stand in the light that Christ gives us. It is so easy for me to retreat into my own shadows, and that place, my brothers, is a dangerous place for me to be. In the darkness, it is impossible to see the roadmap of where we are going, and it is so easy to take a wrong turn. We have hope in the shadows and the promise of light that shows us the way.

We recently learned a new song in church a few months ago. Our music director instructed us that when we sang the chorus, we should lift our hands up whenever we sang the words that proclaimed what Christ meant in our lives. And as I proclaimed the words “you’re my hope in the shadows…”, I gratefully lifted my hands in the air.

You’re MY HOPE in the shadows!

Some time ago, I was traveling on a day trip with my family and passed through the town of my childhood; this town is a place that I avoided for many years and no longer claim a connection to. And as we passed by the place where a part of me had remained lost in the shadows for many years, I caught a glimpse of my eleven-year-old self hidden where he had been left behind all those years ago. Silently, I called out to him…. “It’s going to be ok. It will take many years, but you will eventually be ok.” And for the most part, I am. The shadows still come, dancing their mysterious number across the landscape of my life before dissolving away. But today I have hope. I always have hope in the shadows. And you do too.

Many years later, my son looking down at White Sand Creek, circa 2018

Stephen Coleman is a member of the Samson Society and is a guest contributor to the Samson Society blog. 

How The Fear Of God Can Sober Us Up To The Reality Of Chronic Sin

You've heard of people doing a "cleanse" of their digestive system?  As far as I know, they drink some magic elixir (processed smoothie), and from there, they defecate their "past self" down the loo.

I suppose the idea here is some sort of guttural reboot.  I don't know.  It sounds interesting though in concept (though really stinky).

Wouldn't it be interesting if we could do that with our souls?

Perhaps due to the quarantine, we actually can.  Without drinking some gross-tasting magic elixir.

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Chronic sin - especially when it involves other human beings or tangible "landmarks" - is monumentally difficult to break free from under normal, everyday circumstances.  Take for example a man involved intimately with a female co-worker.  Perhaps the relationship hasn't become sexual except within his lustful fantasies, but nonetheless, his flirting with her at work 5 days a week promulgates this sin.  Or a man who meets up discreetly with his lover once or twice a month, unbeknownst to his family.  And finally, the man who masturbates at work behind closed doors as he fantasizes about his fetish whilst viewing photos / videos on his pocket computer.

Relative to drunkenness or gluttony, consider the man who travels by car / plane regularly for work and who serendipitously maps his trip in close proximity to local watering holes / fast-food & ice cream parlors.  Adult bookstores could certainly be treated the same here.

You get my drift.

God wants us in communion with him, and this requires obedience to his commands.  What better way to be reminded of this than for him to interrupt our focus on the routine - family, work, church, and on and on via the quarantine?

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Here's sort of an inverse analogy to what I'm describing here.

My wife, Angie, tripped over her feet in our driveway +/-8 weeks ago.  Unfortunately for her, she then proceeded to fall on her left arm / shoulder, severely bruising it from stem to stern.  From there, for about 5 weeks, she kept this arm completely immobile via a sling, wearing it throughout the day due to the intense pain from the bruising (both internal and external).  About three weeks ago, I began working with her to "re-learn" how to use this previously immobile limb.  This has involved both at the gym and (now) at-home exercises, and wow, has she progressed marvelously!

But this hasn't been easy for her in the least due to two new realities:

1.  How weak / easily fatigued her left arm now is due to its (more or less) complete 30-day immobilization coupled with the severe injury.

2.  How atrophied her left arm now is due to its (more or less) complete 30-day immobilization coupled with the severe injury.

There's been many tears shed by my sweet Angie as I challenge her to lift and stretch with that left arm as she did prior to her fall.  The pain in her joints, in particular, is intense, but each time we do this work, her arm strengthens / her arm's mobility improves exponentially.  And afterwards, she smiles more due to her accomplished good work (which makes me smile too).

It's important that you understand my motivation here in order for this inverse analogy to be utilized to its full potential.

I know the Angie before her accidental injury, and it's the one I want back.  For example, she and I haven't been sexually intimate for well over 2 months (maybe 3).  It's simply not been feasible.  And sex for us is really important, and not just because I'm great in bed (hah!).  As within any healthy marriage, intercourse for us is loads of fun plus it demonstrates our commitment to each other.  Therefore, in light of our circumstantial celibacy, our marriage has felt more like roomies than anything else.  And this is beginning to have a long-term negative impact.

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If you're cognizant to God's pursuit of your heart today, perhaps he's expecting you to exploit the quarantine to its full potential by re-thinking / repenting of chronic sin now that it's so easily identifiable / recognizable to you.

I realize that may hurt to hear, but if it does, you may have a serious problem, my friend.

Nevertheless, please remember that Samson Society is here to help.  Consider getting involved today - especially during the quarantine.  We'll benefit from your involvement as much (or more) as you'll benefit from knowing all of us.

Take the steps to re-think your involvement in chronic sin today.  It may just be now or never.

Refuse to lie to yourself or wear flowers in your hair.

Lagniappe

Recommended Reading From The New York Times

https://dnyuz.com/2020/03/23/the-beautiful-world-beside-the-broken-one/

Bearded Iris

A distinctly masculine flower