Intrigued / Taken Aback By One Heck Of A Barrel-Chested Pastor

 

I'm fairly certain, over the course of my adult life, that I've never encountered my masculine archetype preaching from within the pulpit, but this morning was the exception.  What I'm referring to is the physical build / attributes of men that I'm sexually attracted to.  In order to break this down, I'll offer up the following extensive list:

-  my height or (preferably) taller

-  dark skin

-  dark hair

-  lots of body hair (but not necessarily facial hair)

-  balding / bald

-  athletically built / exceedingly muscular (sans steroids)

-  below average waistline

-  stocky / barrel chested / "stout" / swole / buff

-  medium to deep voice

-  athletically-cut short-sleeved shirts, shorts / pants that are tight around the ass

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This morning during the church service I attended (where the pastor in the photo above delivered the sermon), I found myself having to get up from my seat and exit the auditorium (about 12 minutes into his delivery).  I simply couldn't take my eyes off his nipples; for they were clearly visible (& I was seated midway back within the darkened 400+ seat auditorium) through his shirt(s).  I kept wondering if they actually might be as sizable as a female's are, taking into consideration how pronounced his pecs (breasts) were.  

Too, I wanted to find out more about this gorgeous man in short order, therefore I hoped (forlornly) to locate some sort of church info literature (hard copy) out in the "Pre-Function" space (keep in mind that I'd never stepped foot into this church prior to this AM). 

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During the portion of his sermon that I did hear, he cited starting each day really early in order to "hit the gym".  No doubt, his impressive physique testified to this regime.  But too, it was his demeanor / confidence combined with his slacker apparel (for he was dressed identically this AM to how he was photographed above) that all played into his sex appeal.

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You've heard of the Billy Graham rule.  It's centered on a pastor's "rules of engagement" relative to the opposite sex, particularly as it relates to private interaction / dialogue.  But one thing that's rarely talked about, in tandem therein, is Billy Graham himself.  In particular, how he presented himself to the millions upon millions of "parishioners" who he had the privilege of preaching to.  Decade after decade.

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Off the charts sex appeal, for men at least, is a result of both blessed DNA and consistently hard work.  Hard work that for some individuals is quite enjoyable to engage in on a repeated basis.  Perhaps these great habits took root for these men in high school / college, and they've since never relinquished the routine.  Bravo!  For looking fine and being in exceptional health are wonderfully collaborative goals.  

But,

pastors who are as such, need to realize they're facing individuals like Rob, every time they stand up to speak.  And I believe this should give them pause.  Enough, at least, for them to take the time to ponder the entirety of their audience of this present age.  

What does this mean for these pastors?  Here're a few of my thoughts therein.

1.  Parishioners who "fall in love" with a pastor's sexiness, can't possibly listen (test) without prejudice.

2.  Putting confidence in a pastor's looks is going to make demands of him that eventually (disability, advanced age, chronic illness, demands of life) will become impossible to meet.  

3.  Becoming expectant (enmeshed within) of those inevitable attractions between himself (hunk pastor) and select parishioners (same or opposite sex) may eventually weaken a pastor's resolve to never seduce.  And seduction's intent is never, ever good. 

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I suppose now I can say that I've truly seen it all after this Sunday's service.

Lagniappe

Honoring The Mother Ship's (First Baptist Church Jackson) Cherished '70s / '80s' Pastor - Dr. Frank Pollard - 5/07/78 transcript

Denying Yourself & Making Faithfulness (To Christ) Your Highest Priority

Losing my campus architect job from Delta State University proved devastating to me emotionally.  For it was an environment I found challenging, energetic and perfectly suited for someone of my professional skillset (plus it was my dad's alma mater).  I cannot overstate here how satisfied I was with this administrative position.  It was September of 2013 when the termination occurred, right around this time of year (late summer transitioning into early fall).  Though I'd only been employed there for one year, I'd spent countless hours of overtime (mostly weekends) shoring up the position of Campus Architect (at the expense of my family / personal life), all of which had resulted in some needed stability / restored confidence within the Physical Plant. 

Post termination (the following day), I immediately took the necessary steps to become an employee of my parents' Jackson, Mississippi business.  The work I'd be doing there wasn't at all of interest to me nor was I trained therein (I pursued a degree in architecture in college in order to eventually become registered as such).  Too, I knew going in that working for them would result in me feeling washed up, settled, and emasculated (which it did).  Spelled out as F-A-I-L-U-R-E.  

The devastation was centered on how obvious it quickly became that I was not at all well-suited working on a college campus, particularly within a Physical Plant setting.  Why?  As an intensely (at the time) same-sex attracted 40-year-old man, I was overwhelmed with the testosterone / muscled masculinity that was constantly on display for me to interact with.  And, to make matters that much more challenging, all these men wore athletically cut, short-sleeved uniforms that accentuated these glorious physical attributes.  And I cannot underestimate that word:  glorious.  Damn, it was fucking glorious.  Not unlike working on a gay porn film set each and every day.  

Yet, in the midst of all this, I had zero support relative to my story.  Even though I'd shared it in so many words with our pastor / associate pastor (whilst also pointing them to my personal blog).  They proved to be no help at all to me personally.  And I did even reach a point of directly asking for help.  

Taking all this into account, it was no doubt an unworkable situation.  Rob was completely isolated and far from home.  All the while, feeling SO MUCH shame relative to his sexual orientation.

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Imagine being Samus Aran but not fitting at all comfortably (due to the size of your frame) into your varia suit.  No matter how hard you'd tried.  Therefore, you attempt to bounty hunt sans suit, but you keep getting your ass kicked.  Plus, you're unable to morph into that cool morph ball which therefore limits your mobility.  

As such, you're disqualified.  No more bounty hunting.  Not without the varia suit.  It is an integral part of your work.

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At age thirteen, whilst being lassoed in by the gospel, I knew denial of myself would be an absolute.  And at this age, I actually gravitated towards this mindset for I found zero value within Rob.  Not to mention I was scared shitless of landing in hell for my propensity (even at this tender age) to lust. Immediately, Jesus made sense as both a savior and guide, and I understood my need for both.  

There was no one to confide in during my teen years relative to my sexuality.  In tandem with that was how emotionally starved I was both at home and platonically.  Therefore, "rescue" came via lustful sexual fantasies, all of which were homosexual in nature.  Often, these fantasies involved men / older boys that were within my sphere of influence (school / work / church).  They pursued Rob with a vengeance within these fantasies, and in many ways, it served as a temporary suave to my hurting / lonely heart (which was always left behind with biting guilt).  

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One thing I'm most proud of relative to my position at Delta State University was my choosing to not entertain sexual fantasies around any of the hot men that worked under me.  As such, this put me in quite the private pressure-valve situation.  For I didn't want to use them, but at the same time, I was exceedingly sexual attracted to a number of them. 

And this is where oversharing on my personal blog came in handy along with consuming gay porn (all executed on my work desktop PC, thereby breaking the university's IT policy).  For it provided some temporary emotional relief.

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After my initial +/-3 years of being involved in the Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society group (August 2014 - May 2017), the Holy Spirit clearly punctuated my love for men by dubbing me a "men's minister".  This happened immediately following a retreat that Mr. Don Waller had organized for our (then singular) group in beautiful Highlands, NC.  I'll likely never forget the day this occurred.  It was a rainy weekday afternoon while both of my 'rents were out of the office.

This title wasn't something that felt earned.  Instead, it seemed (at the time) so much more prophetic in nature than anything else.  And it truly was, though even today, all these years later, I in no way feel I've "risen" to that mantel.  

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My experience at Delta State University was perfectly orchestrated by God to prepare me for what's been set within my line of sight today as a "men's minister" (whatever that means).  For I know firsthand what it is to experience devastation via the realization that you're not qualified to pursue what, by the numbers / book, looks to be a perfect fit for you (taking your credentials, experience, availability into account).  

Being a same-sex attracted man has crippled me.  There's no doubt about it.  It has, in many ways, robbed me of (vocational) glory I've longed to be identified by.  But, none of this is overly surprising to Rob, especially whilst looking back.

What is mind-blowing is how tenderly God's nurtured me through all this fallout.  He's been consistent in his love as each month propels me further and further away from what went down in September 2013.

Thanks be to God for his goodness and mercy, and thanks too for the Jackson Mississippi Samson Society and its role in launching me into this community of men.   

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Freedom To Outmaneuver Political Extremists (Why I'll Likely Never Attend Another Face-To-Face - In Mississippi Or Anywhere Else - Samson Society Meeting)

I don't feel comfortable around political extremists.  Especially within Samson Society.  I realize that everyone has a right to their opinion on politics, and that the amount of time / energy they devote therein is their business, but these folks creep me out (& especially so if they're professing Christians).

During my four-year tenure facilitating the Lakeside Pres Samson Society meeting, I found myself face-to-face with one of these individuals when he boasted of participating in the January 6, 2021 election protest at the US Capitol (he executed this boasting the Saturday immediately following its occurrence).  Though he himself (according to his personal narrative) didn't join in with his fellow protestors and storm the building, just knowing that he'd hooked up with other extremists via social media, carpooled to Washington D.C. and joined in the protest really unsettled me.  

This Samson brother had been faithful to our face-to-face group almost since its inception.  Overall, he was no "odder" than any other Samson guy, and as such, this development really put me between a rock and a hard place.  I remember simply having my synapses charred when he boasted of what he'd participated in (either during the meeting itself or the after-meeting) since all of us at the time were still emotionally overwhelmed with what actually had occurred as a result of the insurrection itself.

And, I will admit, whilst looking back, that I had prior to this fateful day / Samson Society meeting insisted that he forgo the political rhetoric during his share time.  And each time I needed to do so (which wasn't all that often), he'd respectfully comply.  Keep in mind that this man was very intelligent / articulate (typical Samson guy).  A guy who landed here in MS (20+) years ago from New York (his childhood home) by way of California.

Yet, what was I to do?  Ask that this longtime friend remove himself from our group?  

Americans certainly have a right to protest, and that's all he'd done.  There was no denying that.

Yet, it was the boasting of his participation therein that changed my mind completely.  Especially considering what grew out of said protests.

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One of the primary advantages of virtual Samson Society meetings (via Zoom) is down in the right-hand corner of the screen.  Therein resides the "Leave Meeting" red button.  I've taken note of a number of Samson guys over the past eight months who've made a discreet exit from "Make Thursdays Great Again" via this button.

Some of these men (if I've befriended them), I'll follow-up with afterwards.  Most don't volunteer a motive for leaving prior to the meeting's conclusion, but my guess is, it has something to do with someone else's presence.

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There's no way to control who attends a Samson Society meeting.  It's open door, baby, and that's the way that it should be.  But with the multitude of virtual Samson Society meetings available to frequent, leaving one meeting behind and jumping onto another (a few hours later) is of expedient convenience.  Plus, it can be done with discretion (if the group is sizable).  

I like that.  A lot.  Especially considering my aforementioned rock & a hard place experience (with certain individuals) within face-to-face meetings.

And not just for my sake but for the sake of others.  For I know there're plenty of Samson brothers out there who reflexively reach for that "Leave Meeting" button when they spot Mississippi Rob. 

You simply cannot do that within a face-to-face paradigm.  And that, in my opinion, is unfortunate.

"Will I Remember?" - Garry Eoff

 

Will I remember life as a boy after I have grown older, turning from a young man as I cross the boundaries of adolescence to manhood?  Will I remember the springs of Grandpa Mc and the memories may become useless to the thoughts and desires of a man, one day I will be?

The water source, I am told, never stops flowing, the eternal fountain of youth that Balboa looked for is mine, all mine, for no one has yet to find this hiding place.

 

.

 

Today, I have rearranged my campground with my hammock strung between two cedars, silent sentries of my pond.  It is here that I am ready to sleep and allow the day’s labors of setting up camp, drip off of me as the netting of the cocoon holds me in a tight embrace.  It is here that in my dreams there are lands to conquer and mine to lay control.  As the years go by and I cross the boundaries into manhood, will I remember?

 

The day dawns as the morning light pries my eyes open with the red-tailed hawk calling with authority of his power and might to earth’s creatures far below.  Will I claim more land for Grandpa Mc as I plow the day before me, following the springs to the land below?  What unknown force seeks to keep me from doing so?

I sit here on the rocks below my hammock with coffee in hand, the sound of the trickling stream accompanying my thoughts.  Alone with no one but God and His world around, enfolding me, my thoughts now roam to a year from now, five, then, twenty, thirty plus more years and I wonder, will that man, me, remember this day, this moment in time when Grandpa Mc made me ruler of all lands both near and far?  In the meantime, here I am, staff in hand, surveying my pond, my ocean of water to tame. 

Kneeling, he stares at his reflection and gazes at the boy as he waits to cross the boundaries into manhood and wonders, will he remember this time and place he calls his kingdom and wonder aloud once again, will he remember?  The answer he believes will be, “Yes! I will!

This was written after visiting Kent Bogle on his ranch outside of Trent, Tx. As a boy, Kent wandered the countryside exploring the 27,000 acre ranch that was acquired by his great-grandfather Mr. and Mrs. McLain. It is here that memories were made, and memories continue to be made. Although well beyond the childhood years, the experiences had on the ranch are still vivid in his memory. This writing tells of my interpretation of what Kent has shared with me.