Assume the Best of Others: Resilient Love in an Age of Suspicion | Desiring God
Monday, June 14, 2021
Sunday, June 13, 2021
White Hot Heart(s)
Using other men as a conduit to emote. Similar to music. [Those are the notations I made in advance of writing out this post. If I don't take notes, me will forget where I'd like to take the narrative.]
A young Samson guy who took to Samson Society like a duck to water used to describe how emotionally overwhelming attending meetings was for him. And what he was referring to wasn't empathy but actual emoting. Efficient, expedient emoting unlike any he'd experienced prior (except maybe whilst engaging in sex with is girlfriend / wife).
This young professional found the meetings provided him with a setting and therefore means to emote. And emote he did. All manner of emoting. In fact, his emoting went from one end of spectrum to the other and back again (throughout the tenure of our friendship and his relation to our local Samson Society groups). It was like releasing the Kraken. No doubt a marvel to behold.
It's important to note that this Samson guy didn't happen to struggle with same sex attraction, but otherwise he reeked of gayness. And not necessarily in his mannerisms but mostly within his demeanor / outlook / temperament. And others besides me had corroborated this to him directly. Gay men are typically highly intelligent and articulate, therefore they're often hyper-critical relative to their outlook on just about everything around them. This Samson guy was like that to a tee, yet he was immensely straight. To the point of often being in anguish if he found himself out of step with the expectations of the women (mother, sisters, work colleagues, wife, daughter) in his life. Hence, in a way, he was sorta super-straight.
There are those gay men who're out there who fall into the category of generally (averaging relational time) miserable to be around. He could at times be one of those guys. Nonetheless, it was very cool seeing him find such emotional challenge from the meetings and all the positive relationships that developed as a result. For this was a dude who relished a challenge, and obviously Samson Society (meetings & otherwise) provides ample opportunity for those inclined. As such, I loved having him with us for such a time as that.
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For Rob, the act of emoting through another guy first occurred when I was in high school. It was whilst working at Chick-A-Fil in Northpark Mall back in the '80s. As an only child, I'd little experience developing consistent relationships with other boys / young men except for my cousins (who mostly lived within other regions of the state).
But at age 15, whilst acquiring my first part-time gig frying chicken, all that began to change.
As a newbie at the Chick, I mostly passed out fried chicken samples week after week for hours on end. But eventually, after surviving that initiation, I began learning the actual ropes, and those consisted of running a cash register, breading / frying chicken (in the "Henny Pennys") and unloading the weekly foodstuffs brought in on various delivery trucks. The latter of which was the most difficult for I was a lean, completely nonathletic teenager who weighed all of 125 lbs. (with a 29" waist).
During this period of my life, I was so ashamed / embarrassed of my lean physique that I refused to present myself semi-nude in public, therefore that meant no swimming and absolutely no showering with or around other guys (hence, my affinity for being a member of the marching band).
For I felt my body would make for an easy target of any other guy (or girl) who might choose to point out my exceptional leanness as an act of cruelty. Therefore, I refused to provide them with the opportunity. Perhaps this was cowardice on my part, but nonetheless, it worked to keep me from being bullied.
On the flip side of that, I quickly began elevating certain young men who no doubt did not (& rightly so) have this same hang up.
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The private high school I attended in Madison was small. We only graduated, in 1990, a mere 45 students. But there was one of those young men (a classmate) who'd haunt me with his athletically built physique. For I'd no courage whatsoever to attempt to befriend this classmate (which no doubt would have helped to defuse the situation). And this is really where my penchant for homosexual lust went off the rails. Not only was this classmate a varsity baseball and football player, but he was exceptionally shy and reserved. So much so that I don't know I ever heard him say more than a few words during 10th - 12th grade. He was that quiet.
And, of course, this only made it easier for me to take advantage of him within my sinful thought life, seeing how he was such the mystery man to all of us.
I cannot tell you how many times I begged God to forgive me for engaging in lustful fantasies that involved this dude (& plenty of others).
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My senior year of private academy high school saw me friendless, and I was okay with that. I was excited about heading off to college the following year, knowing that I'd be leaving all of my "dumbass" classmates behind. My two best friends were a year older than I, therefore they'd both "flown the coop" - one now enrolled at a university in TN and another in CO - the year prior.
So, I was alone and now working more and more hours at the Chick in the mall (which I sheepishly enjoyed). For it all felt so very adultish.
And then an older, Christian guy showed up at the Chick, and I knew he was a Christian because he quietly reeked of the fruits of the Spirit (which I was then privy to), and he was a seminary student at Reformed Theological Seminary in Jackson.
The latter obviously made him a lot older than I was - likely mid-20s. And this guy was physically built like a man. I even moreso took note of this because he could execute physically demanding tasks twice as fast than I could. Tasks such as mopping the dining room, behind the counter, kitchen or unloading the aforementioned delivery truck, and so forth. I've never seen such stamina / work ethic.
But despite his physical age seniority to me, he refused to look down on me or question my role as "crew chief" (his superior). I appreciated this for I'd years of chicken tenure (!) under my belt that he did not.
Therefore, when he would be assigned to work with me during night shifts (there'd be three of us that would close up the restaurant at 9 PM), I would breathe that much easier. For he was literally the ideal crew member - efficient, hard-working, respectful and kind. The embodiment of what I aspired to be - someday - as a man.
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One noteworthy (to me) Saturday, this Christian seminary student (Dale was his name) had been assigned to my crew of three to eventually close up the restaurant, and as was typical for Saturdays when I'd work, my shift usually began around 1 PM in the afternoon. As such, those days were typically long, exhausting endurance runs for teenage Rob at the Chick. But, knowing Dale was there to assist me at close, that allowed me to breathe easier for he literally could expedite the work of two men with ease.
And on that day, thankfully, the daytime hours went off without a hitch as did our closing regimen. But something, for me at least, happened that night which unexpectedly awoken my senses to who I might very well be and how I was truly weirdly wired as a man.
Like every other night where Dale was assigned to my closing crew, he volunteered to oversee the cleaning of "the red floor". This verbiage referred to the dining room. For during the 1980s, the dining rooms of Chick-A-Fil restaurants (all of which at this time were located inside of shopping malls) had glossy red ceramic tile (herringboned patterned) flooring. Therefore, Dale had the responsibility of thoroughly cleaning this space (empty trash, clean / sanitize tables & chairs & garbage cans, sweep & mop "red floor"). And arguably on Saturday nights, this space was the filthiest, having endured a weekend day of steady usage from breakfast to dinner.
As I was working towards double-checking all of our now completed work (by now it would have been around 9:40 PM), I surprisingly encountered Dale shirtless in the kitchen. Immediately before that, I'd made my way to the electrical panel and switched off the house lights, therefore only the few remaining night fluorescent troffers were left illuminated throughout the front and back of the restaurant. In looking back, this brown out had obviously given him the signal that I was satisfied and ready for us to depart, but too, it had provided him with somewhat of a veil of darkness to utilize to change clothes.
It took me a second, but eventually I realized he was simply quietly changing out of his Chick-A-Fil uniform shirt and into something else. Perhaps for a late night date or meetup. For I'd never had that experience before.
And then the three of us all left together with me ensuring the back door locked itself behind us.
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I've thought an awful lot about that night since then. And here's what I know.
Though it's never easy to admit to, there are times in everyone's life when they are vulnerable to exploitation by individuals who're usually older / wiser / savvier than we are. And mostly, on average, that vulnerability happens during our childhood years in tandem with us elevating someone within our minds. As you can see here, based on what I've described of my private self-loathing (& the internal sin-laden self-medication I was administering as a result), it was during my high school years when I was in this isolated, critical position.
Dale was one (if not the one) of the most ideal men I'd ever encountered. Plus, he was a Christian. And, on top of that, he had an enviable body & face (which I had the privilege to see firsthand) to match that humble, gentle spirit.
It wouldn't have taken hardly any effort on his part to position himself in order to serendipitously take advantage of this young, very confused high school student (Rob). But he chose not to. Instead, he not only gave to me a stellar example of Christ through his work ethic / demeanor / character, but he also did so by trusting me with his own thoughtful decision to be appropriately vulnerable (the brief shirtless episode).
Now, you may believe that as an adult I've romanticized this childhood event, and I cannot not agree with you on some level. But, you cannot completely dismiss that what he chose to do by removing his shirt there in the kitchen - versus the men's room - must have had at least an inkling of intentionality behind it. And for me, that decision made all the difference. For it demonstrated trust. And this is what I'd always longed to actually marinate in (outside of fantasy). For it validated something in me like nothing else had prior. And as a result, it seemingly started up an engine (idle speed) which eventually, after many additional years, trials, therapists, and Samson Society found its cruising RPM.
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Over the past month, I'd had numerous individuals comment on my physique. Both men and women. Most of these reactions had to do with either clothes I was wearing that accentuated my 48-year old, 196 lb, build or a lack of clothes thereof (whilst out running in the summer heat). To experience this trend literally causes me to feel like the young Samson friend I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Emotionally overwhelmed.
But one antidote to those feelings is to take myself back to that night at the Chick which I've attempted to describe here. That night where I felt I saw my ideal future self seemingly inside somewhat of a mysterious stranger.
For by doing so, I can recalibrate my heart towards the man who firstly demonstrated to Rob what he (me) might very well become.
Thanks Dale. Wherever you are, I love you. For I owe you a whole lot. And just so you know, there is a portion of me that believes you may very well have been my guardian angel.
Thursday, June 10, 2021
Tuesday, June 8, 2021
How To React When A Tenured Spouse (Who Happens To Also Be A Co-Parent) Either Over Or Understeps (Relative To Their God-Given Role Within The Family)
Circumstances within a married household (w/ or w/o children) bring about consistent change. For instance, there are changes in daily / weekly schedules and subsequently expectations and demands change. These circumstances / demands are often tied to milestones, such as summer break / school starting or simply the maturation of various offspring.
Therefore, what tends to happen amidst all this fluidity is mom and dad sometimes overstep / understep within their individual, God-given roles. Why? Because they're imperfect, therefore we easily forget - at times - our various roles / responsibilities.
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My second position within an architecture firm here in Jackson (back in 1997) freed me from telephone answering duty (answering the office landline telephone whenever it would ring). Unlike my first position - right out of college (within a tiny firm of just 5 individuals), I was now working alongside (at least three) administrative personnel who took care of mundane (but extremely important) tasks like this one.
What was unusual though about this new-to-Rob setup was how demanding one of these three administrative people was regarding her colleagues taking a telephone call - right then and there.
I vividly remember being in the men's room taking a dump whilst having this admin lady loudly announce (through a sizable crack in the men's room door) that I "had a telephone call!".
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Husband / Wife / Father / Mother - besides the biological, each has a distinct role to play within a family. And sure there can be some overlap, but overall, the Husband / Father is the head and the Wife / Mother is the helpmeet. Now, does that mean the female is a doormat? Of course not. For the male loves his female as Christ loved the church (his bride) and gave himself up for her. And, of course, this is the Biblical model.
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My wife grew up in a household where her dad was in no way the head. Instead, it was her mother who called the shots - on everything. And when her mother didn't get her way, she'd behave like a spoiled child 'till she either broke her husband's will or lost interest in rebelling any longer. Fueling much of this approach was her parents ongoing abuse of alcohol to placate any and all relational stress (of which there was a lot).
I grew up within a similar household sans the alcohol usage. Yet, my parents were extremely young when I was a boy, whereas Angie's parents are 20+ years their senior. Therefore, of my two parents, whilst in their mid-twenties (& I was around 8 or 9), it was my mother who was markedly more mature and therefore more "qualified" to lead our troupe. And that's what she did. Quite well, I must say.
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One of the attributes that I aspire (as their father) to instill within all three of my children is discipline. Discipline is tough for children to appreciate, especially if they're not involved in team activities (where discipline is promoted via positive peer pressure / a coach). My oldest daughter has had the good fortune of being a school team member (middle / high school dance team), but the other two, not so much (other than middle daughter's experience within a theatrical production class).
My primary methodology for instilling discipline within my children is by not "babying" them. In other words, as salient members of our clan, I expect them to do their fair share of household chores, etc. on top of keeping up their grades, executing volunteer work and putting some sort of weekly emphasis on physical fitness (as opposed to the ubiquitous screen time).
Now, we're officially within the summer months, therefore my daughters are out of school, and like I alluded to earlier within this post, change of schedule / routine can bring about an upending of specific roles (as well as an implied loosening of guidelines).
So, here's a description of the situation.
It's Monday morning, and I was the first up (yesterday). And this isn't atypical for our household (me getting out of bed firstly). Now, when it comes to each child's schedule, I simply cannot keep up with it. Especially during the summer because the schedules are in no way routine. But, Angie does this with aplomb. She uses both her sharp mind as well as some sort of family calendar app to keep everything straight.
But I digress.
What I did, upon getting up, was awaken all three of our little sinners around 8 AM. I knew they'd turned in the night before around 10:30 PM (the oldest two with the youngest an hour earlier), therefore I felt it was time for them to get their weeks started.
Angie disagreed. And she respectfully made that known as she shushed me whilst standing there within our living room.
And this made me angry for I considered it an overstep on her part.
Therefore, about 30 minutes later, she asked me to sit down with her and the girls in the living room to discuss her / their point of view (for they had no interest in getting up at 8 AM either). And after listening to their rationale, I asked them to confer amongst themselves over the course of the day in preparation to report back to me regarding when to wake them up exactly on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday mornings over the remainder of the summer months (this was me being a smartass).
I did this whilst admitting that I know squat about their independent schedules, and don't want to (this was me being a dick).
And as I thought more about this situation throughout the day, I realized that Angie had every right to overstep here, despite it making me feel impeded upon as the dad.
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In closing, what would I have done differently yesterday morning whilst being approached by my sweet wife regarding this seemingly unimportant detail (wake time)?
Been more respectful. For Angie understands CLEARLY both her role as well as mine. Hence, the way she approached me when she did (with respect) demonstrated what I should have immediately reciprocated with (respect).
I also would have apologized - to all the girls - last night for overreacting yesterday morning.
Why?
It's important to me that my daughters understand - through their father - how men should act / react within the home - in a godly manner. And I want them to learn this via example.
Why is this important to me?
We men are dumbasses. Therefore, I want my daughters to choose a future husband who's somewhat less of a dumbass than the majority (which I'm a part of). My daughters' collective knowledge regarding a specific "model husband" is me - their father. That being, what's important to me, how I react, and so forth. Yikes.
If I don't demonstrate grace to my wife / girls, there's a risk my future son-in-laws won't either. And that scares the hell out of me.
Saturday, June 5, 2021
What Does / Will A Life Filled With Good Works Say About You?
Within our present-day culture, I believe it will set you apart from the majority, therefore within certain circumstances, you will be elevated (popularity / respect) dramatically within the eyes of your fellow man. As such, regarding Christianity (assuming that's the foundation of your life), there's an opportunity there, or maybe a better way to put it is an obligation there to communicate why / what exactly is (Jesus / Holy Spirit) behind all of this good behavior.
I call this approach to manhood, here within our western culture, the Andy Griffith / Michael Landon ideal. It's this notion that men can be and should be - to be a man, particularly an American man - deeply, deeply grounded in working diligently on behalf of everyone else as a means of always looking out for their best interests. And as such, most everything (grown out of that) will hopefully conclude with reward(s) and never suffering. Never more harm. Never regret. And expectedly, your standing in the community (& bank account) will proportionally elevate as a result!
Therefore, if you die young (& this is your MO), "sainthood" may soon follow while all of us left behind - spouse, children, friends, and so forth deeply mourn our loss of all that model behavior you graced us with.
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This past week, I was made aware of just such a forecasted saint. A man who I had the privilege to know from past vocational experience (when I was working for the state of MS) many years ago.
Teddy was literally the ideal man. Handsome, caring, intelligent, articulate, well educated, credentialed. His confidence emanated naturally from his pores. And what humility! All and all, he was so very seemingly perfect in every way. Like Jesus with skin on. Literally.
Therefore, having not known of his early death during Q1 of 2021 (for I would have virtually attended the memorial service), I went searching for his obituary online.
And what I found there left me thinking an awful lot about what truly motivates a man to behave as he does (particularly amidst other people).
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Jack Lewis argued that "good men" overall are easier to see converted to Christianity, but on the opposing side of that argument, I've heard men claim (back during the Promise Keepers' days of the '80s and '90s) that men with "pasts" are often more devout / committed once obtaining faith in Jesus Christ. And that the latter case makes for a more "qualified" Christian man.
For example, if you were to follow that argument, a pagan man who'd cheated repeatedly on his spouse, spent a few years behind bars, and was heavy into drugs and alcohol prior to being converted would be defined as a more comprehensive Christian as a result. And there are plenty of those who'd argue too that conversion would be just as easy, if not easier, for this poor sinner.
The Bible presents God as a expectant father figure. Particularly regarding obedience to his commands. And, of course, all of that expected obedience falls on his children (who rely on the Holy Spirit to assist them with this). The Bible also states that man is conscious of God's existence. And this makes sense because of how we're intrinsically rationale, curious beings who long for questions to be answered like - Who am I? What's my purpose? What is the meaning of life? Who created me? Why do I exist? - and so forth.
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Many years ago, I sat through a day-long lighting design workshop down at the Old Capitol Inn. From what I remember, the event was fairly well executed and attended despite the mundane topic. But what did help to liven things up was the unique relationship between the presenters - that being, they were married. Now, this was a number of decades ago, and as such, particularly here in Mississippi, there weren't many husband / wife business partnerships to speak of - at least within the design / planning realm.
As the workshop day drug on, the temperatures dramatically rose out of doors, therefore the close quarters our small class was being held within also began to heat up proportionally.
I was seated in the very back of the narrow, makeshift classroom and feeling a bit claustrophobic, therefore I was grateful to see the event conclude when it did.
As I'd always done (& continue to do), I then dutifully made my way to the podium to thank the presenters. But midway to my destination, I was hit by a stench of ammonia-laced body odor that intensely burned my nose hairs / brought tears to my eyes. Nonetheless, I was too late to turn back, for the husband speaker had seen me coming his way to speak / ask questions there at the conclusion.
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My youngest daughter is an angel from heaven. Literally. This child is not only physically beautiful, but her spirit is just off the charts - loving, caring, and all those words that make you a little sick to your stomach if you think about them for too long.
On occasion, She and I dialogue about her pending conversion to Christianity, and oftentimes, the root of these questions are centered on her wanting to be like her big sisters (particularly in regards to being permitted to take communion at church). The emphasis on my reasoning (patriarchal observation) for her not being yet lassoed in by the gospel of Jesus Christ isn't related to her wonderfully obedient behavior. Instead, it's tied to her not being privy to her depravity / sin as an eleven year-old girl. At least on any measurable scale.
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So, let's return to my now deceased middle-aged, soon to be sainted friend.
His obituary eviscerates any notion of born-againess. As such, there's no mention of a higher power of any sort. Really, in many ways, it truly pays homage to he himself as a godman.
Therefore, were heaven truly an earned affair, he was no doubt qualified to enter in via performance here on Earth alone.
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I cannot describe how difficult it was to traverse those final 8 to 10 steps to the front of the makeshift classroom there within the Old Capitol Inn. And not only because of the horrendous stench, but due to the empathy I had for this bearded lighting designer's wife (who was now working feverishly to pack up their belongings).
It didn't take me long to realize the narrative relative to the stench emanating from him.
Likely, their presentation prep had been procrastinated. Thusly, the preceding late night effort had severely intruded on needed rest. From there, he overslept that AM, didn't have time to shower, and forgot too to re-apply deodorant to those thick hairy armpits. Complicating matters was the slow warming of the classroom space (w/ little to no HVAC air movement) we'd been assigned as the day's temps rose dramatically. Not to mention the three-piece suit he was wearing, which only served to further bake his dirty bod.
There was one other attendee in front of me prior to my having the opportunity to thank the husband presenter with a firm architect's handshake. Taking a gander at the presenter's brow (from over the shoulder of the colleague in front of me), I could now clearly see the beads of sweat. My heart sank for him at that moment. For all anyone would likely remember of that six-hour affair, that they'd worked so hard to pull off, was his monumental, gag-reflexing BO.
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The Bible commands God's children to glorify their heavenly father through their faith in him. How? This faith bears fruit, and that fruit promulgates good works. Therefore, it is Christ in us that's making that happen and thusly, getting all the credit.
But becoming one of God's children involves a rebirth of ourselves. And that rebirth (of the Spirit) is tied to our knowledge and then faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ. And that faith is a gift to those God elects.
When this faith is ignited within us, it is our re-birth. For our eyes are opened to just how imperfect we truly are in contrast to how perfect Jesus Christ truly is (through our understanding of him).
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You and I will rub shoulders with a handful of Andy Griffiths and Michael Landons (not his real name) throughout our lives along with many who aspire to be. And these seemingly perfect business owners, husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, friends can be awe inspiring and intimidating to behold. But, rest assured, if you track the ministry of Jesus within the gospel accounts, the Messiah didn't pay much heed to these gents. Instead, he was much more interested in those who were far from knocking life out of the ballpark.
This knowledge of Jesus is what resonated with me as a boy. For I was far, far more relatable to those men overall. In summary, I stunk. Big time.
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