How Best To Disrespect That Important Man In Your Life

At the outset of the church service on Easter Sunday morning, a concerned mom reflexively approached me about her adult son.  In doing so, she asked me to reach out to him in spite of the fact that I'd already done so prior (this guy's about my age & visited our church - a few times - with his fiancé last spring).  Per his mother, the son had remarried (wife #2) last summer, and as a result, his ex-wife was not / had not (quite understandably) responded well (as the mother of his only child).  Therefore, her son was in an emotional pickle for such a time as this and had been for some time.

Combined with that, her son recently applied for Social Security Disability as he's no longer able to work due to a chronic medical condition. 

I did my darndest to be sympathetic to this mother's pain, but I made it clear that I had no intentions of pursuing her son at her bequest - no matter how much she pressed me to do so. 

Why?

It would be disrespectful to him.  And friendship certainly cannot grow forth from disrespect.  

What I did do is give her my card, urging her to pass it along to him whilst reminding her that I'd given the same - directly to him - last spring.  I continued on by reminding her that by doing so, I did look straight at him, extending a(n) (still unmoved) hand of friendship.

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I'm serving as a Silas to a GA man (he's my age and of the same race as I) that I met at the February '22 regional Samson Society retreat.  He's married to wife #2 (white woman), and she has refused to decouple herself from two very close black male friendships that existed well in advance (by ten years) of her meeting my Silee.  My Silee feels marginalized as such and rightly so.   

These two friends engage with my Silee's wife most days, mainly via text message, and his wife justifies fostering these ongoing relations due to their pre-existence to her relations with him (4-year marriage).

Men want one primary thing from women:  R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

My Silee's wife is disrespecting him by engaging with these other men on a platonic level.  The three of them should have brought their friendship to a decided close on the eve of her wedding to my Silee four years ago.  Instead, they continued forward, and as such, my Silee (& their marriage) has suffered.

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What is respect?

How do you give respect to a man?  (Especially if you're a woman.)

Men, by definition, are capable providers.  Mostly, that provision is in the form of security.  Physical security firstly with emotional security being a close second (often as a result of the physical security).

This provisional man modus operandi that I'm speaking of is internally realized before it can manifest itself outwardly.  Once it's established / recognized therein, women who love these men should celebrate it via their respect towards them.

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One last story:

A fellow MSU architecture student (that also graduated in '95) bumped into me yesterday at a local restaurant.  This guy is a few years older than I, gregarious and - as can be expected of an architect - a bit eccentric.

The last time he and I chatted was back in 2006 when we were colleagues at the same architecture firm here in Jackson.  

Today, this architect is a well-adjusted state government employee on the East Coast.  (This put a smile on my face.)

Before we parted ways, I asked him to introduce me to his wife (who was seated on the opposite side of the restaurant's dining room).  I vaguely remembered him getting married prior to our last juncture, but I didn't remember ever formally meeting his new bride (though I vaguely remembered what she looked like).  

Now, there's something you need to know about this architect.  He's keenly interested in keeping current on everyone's social standing / rank - where they're working, who they're in relations with, and so forth.  And reciprocally, he's more than willing to divulge as much of his same story in kind - so long as someone's willing to listen...to all the sordid details.

Hence, he's one of those guys that typically comes across as being slightly socially awkward, yet he typically makes up for it with his generous smile and honest assessment of his own shortcomings.  And I admire this.   

When he lead me over to the booth his wife was seated at, I immediately extended a hand with a big smile on my face.  

Now, before I go any farther, it's hopefully apparent that this guy isn't (nor has ever been) one to meet a stranger.  Therefore, I've no doubt that his sweet wife has been introduced to countless former colleagues (like myself) within similar settings.

Her reaction amounted to her appearing to be infringed upon as she chomped on her lunch.  Now, perhaps she was having a rough day, or maybe she'd just started an intermittent fasting program, and this was her first solid meal in quite some time.

Anything's possible.

I can tell you that my sweet wife, Angie, becomes seriously disgruntled when I choose to not introduce her to my friends / peers (within public settings like this).  She says it makes her feel invisible, and she absolutely loathes that feeling.  

Regarding this, I feared that my old friend might have come away as such, and that worried me.  For invisibility certainly doesn't equate with respect.

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Happy Easter!

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Lagniappe

There's No Greater Relational Poison Than Prolonged, Unjustifiable, Perpetual Anger (Towards Others Or Towards God)

My father and mother both caught COVID-19 in mid-December '20 as a result of my father choosing to take advantage of the opening of white tail deer (gun) season here in the Magnolia State.  And what I mean by that specifically is he chose to gather around his comrades in arms in rural Yazoo County within their annual competitive swarm.  Therein, one of the most prominent of these hunters exposed my father and the rest of the men to the virus and that was that.

This really frightened me because I care for my parents' well-being.  Plus, they're typically at our office every day (as am I).  Up to that point in time, they'd been reliably quarantining (for the most part).  No doubt, my dad simply refused to forgo his annual beginning-of-winter deer camp experience.  In the end, I was blessed to not also become ill.  All and all, it was a stupid (stupid is a verb) decision on my father's part that put my family at great risk.

Around this same time (the week of Xmas 2020), my dad's oldest brother died unexpectedly whilst dining alone one evening in a franchise steakhouse in Madison.  No one in the family cared much for this man, therefore his funeral felt more obligatory than anything else, coming and going without much, if any, emotional percolation from anyone (except is only son).

In the middle of all of this - my parents' COVID-19 infections / Joe's unexpected death, my dad's youngest brother became very ill with COVID-19, and subsequently was diagnosed with leukemia whilst being treated.  This really impacted my father especially.  For he's always cherished his younger brother, who in many ways was more like his son than younger brother.

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During of all this, my dad's anger issues simply stayed dormant.  Therefore, for years now, he's been an entirely different man in many ways.  No longer seeing me (or my mother) as a threat, and no longer constantly posturing.

As such, it's been a wonderful few years in this regard.

But now that's come to an end.

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Anger is a powerful motivator within certain individuals.  For it's like an engine buried deep beneath the surface that's constantly idling, always ready to roar to life.  

This is the case with my dad.  

Hyper competitiveness and envy can grow out of anger.  To the point that individuals become paranoid and emotionally isolated.  

Throw into the mix low intelligence, and angry people can buy into some crazy shit.  Hook, line & sinker.  

Angry people have no clue how to be motivated to live life sans anger because it's all they know.  It is their effective means to an end. 

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Yesterday, my dad and I freshwater fished on a beautiful lake at - ironically - his Yazoo County deer camp.  I'd been thinking about fishing with him a few weeks prior, and thankfully, he inquired if I'd like to come along earlier this week.  

Yet, even at the outset of this venture (whilst deciding on a time to meet at his abode to depart), I could tell that I was walking into a bad situation.

As a result of this day fishing trip, I've decided that this is the end.  No more freshwater fishing trips with Robert, Senior.  Ever. 

Years ago (pre-pandemic), I'd decided the same relative to saltwater fishing.  

A few weeks back, I also had returned to having lunch with my dad once a week, and that too, I've decided will be coming to an end.

I give up.

My life is too short to be putting myself within his crosshairs.  Robert, Junior = easy target. 

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Years ago, I served as a Silas to a young man who confessed to spending years of his life entrenched in Internet porn out of anger towards God.  And this Southern sinner was a preacher's kid who'd been homeschooled K-12.  As you can imagine, this motivational confession was quite shocking.  Especially coming from someone of such high emotional / religious intelligence.

His anger towards God was rooted in him not finding / being denied romantic love - on his terms.  

This young man absolutely adored / worshipped at the alter of beautiful, intelligent, sexy women and longed to have (a select few of) them captivated by he himself in turn.  Just a handful, in particular, had rejected him, and from there, his self-centered anger took (deep) root. 

For he believed, wholeheartedly, that he was THE BEST CHOICE for these lovely babes long after they'd moved on.  Hence, he found plenty of readily available videos / photos of lovely babes, of every ilk, online to fantasize over as he pleasured himself out of spite.

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I had a wholesaler meeting (at our office) earlier this week that came about unexpectedly.  The man was from Nashville, and had made an appointment weeks prior with my dad.  Robert, Sr. had forgotten about this scheduled juncture, therefore I did my darndest to assist him in saving face (by meeting with the wholesaler in turn).

The wholesaler was interested in knowing how it was that I might possibly work with my father, citing his own familial challenges.  Along with that, he wanted to know if I missed practicing architecture.

Pretty bold questions for a wholesaler, but too, certainly not inquiries that are unfamiliar to Rob.

In response, I provided my stock answers, which is all this stranger deserved.

Ultimately (here's the real answer), I pity my dad.  For I know how in bondage he is to something far greater than he can see or understand.  Also, I'm supremely patient when it comes to men, and he's no exception to that.  In fact, I've practiced my patienceness throughout my life on him.

Thanks be to God that anger isn't an issue that Rob wrestles with (though I have my fair share of others that are equally as destructive).  

Prayer for me and my father would be appreciated.

I already miss my dad as he presented himself during the pandemic.  It is super disappointing to see him revert back to his old ways.

Tough As Snails

"It's like I'm married to a man!  She's almost identical to her own father who was tough as nails."

This was a comment made to me by a long-time Samson friend, describing the relational / emotional tenacity of his wife.  Her resolve to endure their decades-long marriage woes had (at least partially) resulted in her becoming callous and essentially cut off - from him - emotionally.  As a result, their sexual relationship had unfortunately dried up.  This combined with her pointed criticism towards his appointed role as a spiritual leader (within their church, in particular) had seeded substantial doubt in his mind that she would actually stay married to him once they'd successfully reared (& seen moved onward) one of their daughter's children (they had legal custody).

This couple has been married since they were +/-16 years of age, having become pregnant unexpectedly as sexually active teens, therefore I felt shocked & numbed by his update, considering their marital tenure.

Essentially, this looked on the surface to be a wife who was characteristically protecting herself from future wounding (via unfettered sharp criticism / keeping him physically at arm's length) whilst hanging with the marriage out of obligation to her beloved grandson.

I recommended to my friend that he encourage his spouse to get involved in The Sarah Society ASAP in order to find support therein.  

Upon updating me a few weeks later, he'd received no indication from her that she'd follow through with my (& eventually his) recommendation.  Before we parted ways, he rationalized her decision out loud by telling me that she's never been interested in letting her guard down around other women, and this of course, harkened back to her intrinsic (patriarchal - "It's like being married to a man!") character as an individual.

I believe today that she'll likely never divorce my friend, but not because she's destined to make peace with his offenses.  Instead, she'll stay with him to-death-do-us-part in order to effectually justify her pedigreed emotional approach to life itself.

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What is it like to be married to a wife who's disabled?  My wife, in particular.  

"It's like I'm married to a man!  She's almost identical to her own father who was as sublime and hyper-conscientious an individual as I've ever met."

Moral excellence is a rare goal today.  Especially regarding an individual's sexuality (including thought life).  My wife as well as my wife's father made this a priority.  At the same time, there's this humility versus a haughtiness therein.  And this makes for a really pious individual.  Like Mother Theresa-grade pious.

Well, as we all know, Mother Theresa didn't have a husband.  But what if she had?

Hence, on the opposing side to that, there's a massive interpersonal intimidation factor.  So much so, that had I not respectfully befriended Angie during my teen years, I would NEVER have considered pursuing her as my wife in my early 20s.  Bizarrely, she and I hit it off (platonically) almost immediately when we were in high school.  Looking back, I'm convinced this had to do with both of us being hardcore freaks / geeks, both attending separate private academies here in the Jackson Metro.

But this only addresses one side of the coin.

The flip side is her bizarre (to me) hyper-conscientiousness.  And this was also the case for her now deceased father.  

Angie is so self-conscience that circumstantially, she's almost always aware of her pulse / blood pressure.  She's also laser tuned to her emotional state.  So much so that it can at times overwhelm her rationale mind.  

As a middle-schooler, she experienced a massive amount of emotional trauma brought on by her parents.  And this went on for a number of years prior to settling down (somewhat) during her high school years.  Hence, she grew into a very anxious individual by default, although thanks to therapy (and a few meds - on occasion) she's far more well equipped today to manage these unwanted feelings than she was when we first married.

Therein though is her physiological vulnerability.  Studies have shown that anxious individuals are far more likely to have strokes.  And a stroke is what she had back in May of 2020.

And that sums up what it's like to be married to Angie.

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I had lunch this week with one of my heroes, though he didn't know it (of his heroism) 'till we executed this initial juncture.  In the past, he was an elder at our church, and vocationally, his reputation was (he's retired) spotless.  Plus, he's a Bible scholar with so much compassion towards the lost (& downtrodden).  I guess you could say I've always been a secret fan.

He & I talked about conflict during lunch; in particular, conflict between friends / family.  For I wanted to know specifically how he'd fared therein, but especially as it related to some "high profile / public" individuals he'd befriended (who were either deceased or had moved away) over the years.  For I'd been wondering - for quite some time - from afar, how he'd managed these very difficult situations with his smile (& sanity) still intact.

But that overarching "lesson" wasn't what he shared with me.  Instead, he felt compelled to narrate a good portion (gory details) of the relational trauma itself directly to me.  Me.  A nobody who just happened to attend church with him.  

It was such an honor.

In a nutshell, I was given an awful lot, via his story, to chew on relative to relational dynamics.  And I'm going to be chewing for some time.

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Circling back to Angie...  My wife's (just as any wife is) extremely vulnerable to both Rob's (her husband's) sin and Rob's (her husband's) opportunity to / penchant for sin.  Take, for example, the vast online opportunities for me (all husbands) to find individuals to have illicit sexual relationships with.  Whether they're hetero / homo or something in between.  Not to mention Samson Society itself and perhaps using it as my illustrious web-like playground.  Catch & release?

Overall, as time marches on, our culture degrades further and further morally.  Therefore, in theory, Angie obtains a bigger and bigger target on her back.

But, that's only taking one side of the equation into consideration.

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Speaking personally, I find myself quite intrigued at how influential relationships are.  The specifics relative to how those dynamics work is fascinating to me.

And here's a statement that you might not have expected from me, but it's the truth.

The more vulnerable Angie becomes as my wife, the less likely I am to cheat.

Living with her, serving her, is exhausting at times.  But, it drives home the reality of her needing me to stay in our present reality.  

Resurrection Recovery Reflections - By Mr. Max Morton

Driving down the road today I thought about the patterns of my struggle with lust and my addiction to pornography. It seems to me that the springtime of the year is a season where the struggle intensifies. More temptation. More relapse. More failures. Reflecting on the rhythms of my years in recovery, it occurred to me that these seasons of increased struggle coincide with two major events in my early life as my manhood awakened.

The first major event was a dramatic call to ministry when I was 12 years old. That is another story for another time, but suffice to say that this event happened in late March 1974. The second major event was shortly thereafter (I don’t remember the exact time, but I know the exact place and feeling associated) when I was first exposed to pornography.

Both of these events happened in the spring of my twelfth year and started a tug-of-war between my spirit and my flesh that has plagued me ever since. Every year as I reflect on the season of Easter, contemplating Jesus’ sacrificial death, his suffering, and his victory, I am struck by how there seems to be a connection between the spiritual summit of Christ’s resurrection and the bondage of my addiction to sin, specifically lust and pornography.

Another significant event in my life happened more recently, but also in the springtime. The Wednesday after Easter, seven years ago my wife confronted me, and reluctantly I confessed to this ongoing struggle with lust and porn in my life. That “D-Day” (disclosure day) sealed the tragic fate of our marriage. But it also launched me on a journey of recovery.

I find it interesting how the rhythms of Easter each year accentuate the war in my heart. You see, I have an enemy hell-bent on stealing my peace and joy, killing my influence by using my own story to mock me and to destroy any and every good thing in my life. He hates me.

But I also have a lover of my soul who has shed his own blood to redeem me from every temptation, addiction or set back that Satan’s curse has leveled against me. Every year as Easter approaches I am reminded of how the finished work on the cross was for me. I look at my “D-Day” the Wednesday after Easter 2015 and think about how Jesus, the day he hung on a cross, bleeding out to forgive my sins, had in mind that some 2000 years later I would be having that painful, awkward conversation with my wife which destroyed her trust in me and ultimately led to the failure of our marriage.

But for the joy of knowing where I would be 7 years later, he endured the cross, despising its shame–for my sake–and now enjoys the presence of his father, seated at his right hand. These seven years have been hard. There have been victories and relapses, stretches of sobriety, and I’ve had to be helped out of the ditch a few times. The journey has been two steps forward, one step back most of the time. There was guilt, shame and the disappointment of divorce. But I wouldn’t trade this stretch of the road for anything!

Now I know I am a beloved, restored son of the sovereign Lord who bled for me, felt shame for me, thought of me with joy in his heart, died for me, and rose again to give me a new life that will last forever! Why? Because he loves me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything!

As Nate Larkin says, “What I thought was my worst day has turned out to be my best day” because it propelled me on this journey to wholeness with Him. I am fully known, truly loved, completely forgiven, unconditionally accepted and whole-heartedly approved of. What can I say, He loves me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.