"White Dog / Black Dog" - Scott Tomlin

 

Many of us have been living in a world of “either…, or”.  We get stuck in thinking that something or someone must be either all good or all bad.  An aspect of recovery and emotional health is accepting that in each of us, there is the capacity for both good & bad.  When we expect or need for someone to be all of something, life becomes disappointing & lonely.  We eventually discover that those we love do have the capacity to hurt us, and yet, we can still see the goodness of who God created them to be.  We begin to no longer need the contrast of Black & White, and then, are able to embrace & celebrate the beauty of the gray that is in all of us.  This leads us to discover the power of ‘And’.” ~ Faithful & True 

I lived for 40 years with two men inside me.  There was a really good guy.  Church guy, family man.  Then there was a really bad guy.  Lone Wolf, Rover, who used everything and everyone to get what he wanted!   As I grew up, I tried with ever increasing effort to keep these two guys away from each other.  The Good Guy Scott didn’t want to be seen with The Bad Guy Scott.  He also didn’t want his associates and friend groups (related to these two individual guys) to ever meet each other.  In essence there was the fear that each group would be horrified to discover the other group.  So, I learned to build a wall between the two versions of myself.  My thinking was that if I could build it thick enough and tall enough these two worlds would NEVER have to meet. 

“More right behavior + less wrong behavior = Godliness.

There’s only one thing wrong with this equation, it completely disregards the righteousness God has already placed in us.” ~ The Cure by John Lynch, Bruce McNicol, & Bill Thrall

When did I first discover that something must be wrong with me?  That I wasn’t acceptable just as I was made.  Whilst looking back, it was around age 5; I was rejected on the playground by my Kindergarten Crush.  I can still see the Jungle Gym on that playground and where I ran and hid.  I told my young self that something must be wrong with me.  Why had she rejected me?

Then my 1st & 2nd grade school years didn’t go so well either.  I didn’t learn as fast as the other kids, and I was moved from school to school to school because of this.  During that same time, my father's rage, and the physical abuse that ensued became more intense, and it all came to a head when I got in trouble during a family holiday party that my parents hosted.  My father’s drunken state escalated a spanking session to become a beating session.  Eventually, my screams could be heard over the holiday revelry throughout the house.  In a burst of courage and bravery, my older brother ran into the bedroom and stopped my father; for this I am forever grateful!  However, the damage of this emotional and physical abuse left my little boy believing that something must be wrong with him.  As a result, I became determined to hide the real version of me and instead send my representative.  This became the Imposter Me, the one who was cropped and edited to be the person for which the audience was looking, rather than be the boy for which God lovingly created.

Psychologist have determined that a child begins to leave the Concrete Stage of thought - where life is as it appears - around age 7.  We then enter the Concrete Operational Stage from 7 to around 11 years of age.  At this time, we begin to be able to consider ourselves and how other people might think and feel about us.  We begin to understand that our thoughts are unique to us, and that not everyone else shares our thoughts, feelings, and opinions.  It makes sense that when I was this age, and could not reconcile all the chaos that was happening in my life, I went looking for something to help me gain a sense of control.

“Guilt says, I did something bad.  Shame says, I AM something bad”.~  Brene’ Brown

As I consider the above narrative, and what was going on within me at this time, I can understand that all of this served to motivate me to create my False Self.  Guilt that I was feeling, transitioned into Shame that I was believing, and I began to build my wall to separate my two halves, as well as the separate worlds they existed within.  In short order, the lie that I was not enough began to be believed implicitly.  From there, hiding my true self became paramount.  In time, the pain of not being my true, combined self began to grow, and I began to even further disconnect from the authentic person whom God had created me to be.  Because of this I sought out ways to numb the pain as a means to control the chaos this created. 

It was around this same age that I discovered my goto sleep aid and pain medication.  These manifested in the form of the chemical reaction in my brain of Epinephrine, Adrenaline, Norepinephrine, Serotonin, Dopamine, Oxytocin and Catecholamines.  Like with any drug abuse resulted in tolerance to be built, and the chase for more began.  I would chase this dragon for the next 40 years - continually returning and thinking that THIS TIME it will fix everything.  But like a thirsty man in the desert who discovers a pitcher of water, I gulped it down only to find that it was Salt Water.  Not only did it NOT quench my thirst, but it left me even more thirsty!

Through the next 40 years, I would wrongly assume that something would save me from this dragon.  Girls became the regular place that I looked.  What began as exploration with girls soon became objectification of women.  The more I used others the more guilt I felt and the more need for numbing agents accrued.  These conflicting feelings caused me that much more confusion and self-hatred for which my will power and self-discipline could not stave off.  I would gain extended periods of victory only to find myself returning.  By God's grace, during my Sophomore year of college, I came to a Saving Knowledge of Jesus.  As a result, I naively thought that Jesus would be the answer I needed to rectify this situation.  Naively I believed that if He could heal people in the Bible, then he could clearly heal me lickety split, and I fully expected Him to do it!  Once again, I experienced victory for an extended period of time, only to find myself later returning.  I privately began to believe that the magic wand that I expected Jesus to wave must have been broken, or I assumed that Jesus just didn’t want to heal me specifically.

Soon thereafter, I met my wife and we married when I was 24.  Not only had I found my best friend for life, but I believed that she would solve this insatiable appetite within me.  From everything I had heard from other naive men my age, marriage would supply endless amounts of sex, all the time, and I would finally be delivered!  Eventually, my acting out returned.  From there, I began to believe that there just wasn’t any hope for me, and that this was going to be my existence for the rest of my life.  From this point on I simply tried to do my best to limit my use, to hide my acting out, and to keep the wall between my Good Guy & my Bad Guy amply supplied with mortar and bricks to never allow a comingling.  Women hadn’t saved me, Jesus hadn’t saved me, and my wife hadn’t saved me, so I resigned myself to this defeated existence.

“Heal the boy & the man will appear.” ~Jim Cress 

Living life to numb my pain, pain originating from the belief that I was not enough, kept me securely disconnected from my true self.  Being disconnected from the knowledge of who I was kept me from being connected to God.  I believed that I couldn’t measure up to God’s standard which simply felt like a vicious set up, and the rich soil of shame allowed resentment to grow.  I believed God didn’t love me, and I hated myself.  

What I had always wanted was to be fully loved, but in order for this to come to pass, I would have to be fully known.  It took Discovery Day for me to be flushed out of hiding.  What I thought was the worst day of my life became the best day of my life.  It was the beginning of me becoming vulnerable, and I began to no longer need the contrast of Black & White.  I was able to accept that the Good Guy & the Bad Guy are safe to be the same Guy, and I became able to embrace & celebrate the beauty of the gray that was within me.

“There is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace, my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God.  If I find Him, I will find myself, and if I find my true Self I will find Him.” ~ Thomas Merton

When I joined the Samson Society, I found a safe community of men who were serious about recovery, yet they were not on a death march of sobriety.  As such, I found that it was low-pressure safe to be myself.  It was safe to actually be who I was created to be.  In the company of these men, I was allowed to return; to go back in my story and to grieve the loss.  Man there was a lot of that to go do!  So, so much to be grieved. However, I no longer felt the need to limit and lie about my story, and I didn’t have to face it alone.  Other men stood with me.  They did not judge me or attempt to fix me as I embraced my story:  all the pain, all the confusion, all the isolation.  It was a heavy load!  

These men helped me begin to deconstruct the wall of Self Protection which I had built between the Good Guy & the Bad Guy.  The burden that I had carried alone for so many years was now being shared by other men who too were aware of their own brokenness.  For the first time in my life, I was allowed to simply BE.  These brothers stabilized me as I faced all of my story, and all that had happened to me.  As Aaron & Hur held up the arms of Moses, so these men have supported me as I discover my true self, and as I discover myself, I have found the true Jesus who has never left me. 

Thanks - I’m Scott

(Still Wondering...) "WHY???" Feat. Long Long Journey

 

Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never--in nothing, great or small, large or petty--never give in, except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy. 

~ Winston Churchill ~

     Approximately eleven months ago, I originally published this blog entry titled "Why???" At the time I published it, I was still reeling from the devastating news that a young man that I'd previously mentored, Ethan, had recently committed suicide. My emotions were still pretty raw and all over the place when I originally wrote this. Even to this day (nearly a year later), I continue to wrestle with the question "WHY." Hence, the post title (Still Wondering...) "WHY???"

    The three question marks at the end of the question why represent the three men I referenced in my post. Jarrid took his life in September 2019. Ethan in October 2021. Marvin in October or November 2011. 

    September marks National Suicide Prevention month in the United States. Always remember this: you are not alone. Reach out...to anyone. You are loved. You are worth living. Your life means something to someone. Don't loose hope. And as Churchill said, "...never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."

 

I am currently in the midst of one of the greatest challenges that I have ever experienced during my 41-year-old life. This challenge has presented itself in the form of raising my seven, soon to be an eight-year-old son. My son’s brain constantly moves at warp speed. He is brilliant. No, I don’t say that simply because he is my son and I am a proud father (even though it is true, I am a proud dad). I say that in a matter-of-fact way because there are simply no other words to describe him. And since my son was adopted, there is no way on God’s green earth that he got it from me.

         All my son’s older brothers have been blessed in that they are exceptionally intellectually gifted. We had the boy who is next oldest to my son for about a year before they removed him and sent him back home. That is a story for another day and was a heartache that we three have still not recovered from. During the year that we had my son’s brother, he was in first grade, and it quickly became evident that he was extremely intelligent and academically gifted. At that time, my son was four and still in preschool. My wife and I often wondered whether he would follow, academically, in the footsteps of his older brother. My mom (a teacher for 30+ years) once gave us a wise piece of advice when she told us  “not compare him to any of his brothers, and to simply let him be the child that he was going to be in his own way.” Well, the proverbial apple did not fall far from the family tree. Despite his rough start in life, my son is simply brilliant. His little mind is growing and churning out new ideas and moving 1,000,000 miles a minute every single day. It is sometimes exhausting for this old dad to keep up with him. I pray for his teacher every single day. As you can imagine, this presents some serious challenges for mom and dad. Even though he is not quite yet eight, my son possesses a large and in charge type A personality. He is a natural-born leader, and he has never been a follower. I am afraid that he will never be a follower (except for, hopefully, a follower of Christ!).

            This little eight-year-old blessing is something that my wife and I deal with every day, as we try to constructively guide him through life while also encouraging him to be a fiercely independent problem solver. My kid is so analytical; this is evidenced in that he loves to argue about anything. I have always joked that he is going to make an excellent defense attorney one day because he can argue his way out of anything (and does so quite convincingly). Another challenge that comes along with raising my son is answering the million “why” questions that he fields my way every single day. “Why does this happen, daddy” or “why does this work this way, daddy” or “what makes X equal Y” and on and on and on. Now, although it may seem like I am griping a tad bit here, that is not the case. From the moment he first started talking, I have always encouraged my son to ask me all the questions he wishes to ask. I tell my son the same thing that I always told my students when I was teaching: “there are no dumb questions.” So, I am happy that my son is asking questions even though it does sometimes get old trying to come up with the answers to some of his questions!

            “WHY???” I would dare say that no other three-letter word in the English language contains the power packed into this small, unassuming word. “Why” is a word that invites questioning, and self-examination within oneself. Indeed, it demands introspection and invites conversation in general. “Why” is a word that can be both simultaneously maddening and enlightening.

            When we ask “why” and the person of whom we are asking the question delivers a satisfactory answer, the word grants us immediate gratification and resolution. We get an answer to the question “why.” However, the same word can also be maddening at times. When something befalls us or we are forced to go through something that we feel like we should not have gone through, our human nature is to question God “why?” Of course, during those instances, the use of the word looks more akin to this: “WHY???!!!”

I learned many years ago, as a youth, to never put anyone on a pedestal. As I discovered in my youth, if you put someone on a pedestal, they will eventually fall off the pedestal and then the weight of them crashing down will seriously wound you. When I was in high school, I had a youth pastor that I was very close to and really loved. I think that he was the first person that I ever put on a pedestal in a church situation. As a youth, I was not as strong in my faith, and I was a lot more vulnerable. One day, I watched my youth pastor fall off the pedestal during a church camp one summer. I was absolutely crushed. I was devastated. I never looked at him the same again. From that moment on, I made a deal with God: I would never put any fallible human on a pedestal ever again. No, that did not mean that I would not love people or even try to trust them, it just meant that I would not hold them to such a high standard that it would eventually set them up for failure.

            I am not big on social media at all. I just don’t really see the purpose of it (other than occasionally keeping up with old friends that live many states away). Real-life happens right in front of you – it happens in the muddy trenches when you are barely surviving, and it happens on top of the mountains; regardless, it happens with the people that you love who are actively a part of your life, in real life. Real-life means that you can reach out and actively touch a person such as giving them a hug in church, or having a cup of coffee with them. You can’t do that via social media. But there was a time in my life about six or seven years ago when I was pretty involved with Twitter. I never posted much of anything on Twitter, but I followed a number of motivational accounts from which I drew great encouragement. I found encouragement through the devotionals and motivational thoughts shared by pastors and other motivational speakers.

            There was a young man named Jarrid that I started following on Twitter. Jarrid was an up-and-coming young pastor who was on staff at a large church in California. For some reason, the words that Jarrid shared on Twitter and on his personal blog resonated deeply with me and spoke to me. I was going through a bad bout of depression in my life during that time, and even though Jarrid seemed to have it all together (he was a pastor) and had a beautiful family who loved him, Jarrid also suffered greatly from depression. Everything that Jarrid spoke about related to depression and suicide prevention came from the trenches of his own experience and it really resonated with me; I knew at the time that it was God giving me messages of hope through this young man. I never did put Jarrid on a pedestal (I learned my lesson, remember), but I did hold his words in high esteem, and I sincerely looked forward to every new thought that he shared on Twitter and every new devotional that he published on his blog. Even though I never met him in person, I felt such a strong connection with him and it was almost like we were kindred spirits fighting our way through the darkness of depression and trying to find the light of life once again.

            I’ll never forget one of the last things that Jarrid posted. It was around National Suicide Prevention Day back in 2019. Jarrid spoke of how life was so precious, and he encouraged anyone fighting the darkness to reach out to him or to anyone else who could hold out a hand to grab onto. And then his words stopped. There were no more tweets, no more blog posts, no more anything. And then I found out. This young pastor, this man of God, this kindred spirit who had touched my life, was dead by his own hand. A mere few hours after his son’s ballgame, he ended his own life. He killed himself right after he wrote what he did for National Suicide Prevention Day. Even though I had never met Jarrid in person, my heart was truly broken and I asked God:

 “WHY!?”

 Jarrid left behind a lovely wife and a beautiful family. All I could think of was that it was such a waste of a good life and that there were so many more lives he could’ve touched. Truly, there was so much more that God could have used him to accomplish. I felt cheated, I felt robbed, and I felt so heartbroken for his family.

“Why, Jarrid???”

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            One of my dad’s good friends from his years of living in Meridian was a man named Marvin. Marvin was a good guy, and he was a very strong believer as well. He and my parents went to church together in Meridian. Marvin and my dad would go hunting together, and they always enjoyed getting together to shoot the breeze. When my dad left Meridian, Marvin was one of the few people that he kept in contact with. After my dad moved from Meridian, Marvin’s health started failing him in several ways. My dad went back to Meridian a couple of times to visit Marvin, to check up on him, and just to spend time with him because Marvin was lonely. But life goes on, and time and distance have a way of interfering with relationships.

I remember one of the last phone conversations that my dad had with Marvin. Marvin told my dad that he was going through a rough patch and really needed to see him. My dad talked with Marvin for a while and assured him that he would make the trip to Meridian the next week to see him, but that he had a lot going on during the current week. My dad thought he could wait a week to go see Marvin.

A few days later, Marvin’s neighbor texted my dad. My dad said that it was probably the worst text he has ever received. The neighbor’s text was to inform my dad that Marvin had gone into the woods behind his cabin where he proceeded to shoot himself in the head. I don’t think that I have ever seen my dad quite as emotional except during his mother’s (my late grandmother’s) funeral. That was an incredibly tough blow for my dad, and he questioned God for months afterward. “Why did you let Marvin take his own life.” “Why did I not take the time to go to Meridian on the day that Marvin called me and needed me?” I don’t believe I have ever seen my dad quite so mentally anguished before. He felt so incredibly guilty for a long time after that, but he eventually came to terms with the fact he most likely could not have saved Marvin no matter what.

“Why, Marvin???”

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            In my late 20s and in my early 30s, I was involved with an international prison ministry that had a local chapter in one of our state prisons. It was something that I never desired to get involved with nor did I want anything to do with. But God had other plans. Out of that initial prison ministry, I later branched into other areas such as mentoring juvenile offenders and mentoring older guys who were within a year of being released. Back in 2012 and 2013, I was a part of the collaborative reentry program that was started by Stuart Kellogg of Jackson Mississippi, and I had the opportunity to mentor three men through that program. The last young man that I ever mentored as part of that program was a young fella named Ethan. Ethan had a sad story, and he had found himself locked in prison at the ripe young age of 20 due to a tragedy that he had been involved in. Another guy named Mickey and I were assigned to Ethan to become his mentor. Twice a month for the next year, we went into prison and mentored Ethan one on one through sharing personal testimonies and a Bible study. Those were some of the sweetest times that I have ever been privileged to be a part of.

Ethan possessed such a gentle soul; he was kind, he was humble, he was eager to learn, and he loved the Lord. Ethan was a gifted writer and a great wordsmith; his grandmother owned a small weekly newspaper in Alabama, and Ethan had the unique opportunity to write weekly articles of encouragement for the newspaper. His column was titled “Penned behind Bars.” Ethan was a very unique writer; I can unabashedly say that having read hundreds of great (and not so great) essays written by students over the years. A talent like Ethan possessed can only be a gift from God. As an English teacher and fellow writer, it was my pleasure to both mentor and encourage Ethan as he grew in his writing ability.

After he got out of prison, Ethan briefly attended USM in Hattiesburg before moving to Alabama to take over as the assistant editor of his grandmother’s weekly newspaper. I kept up with Ethan via text message and through social media, but I eventually got busy raising my own son. I never forgot Ethan, and never forgot those special moments that we three shared behind the walls of a prison. Ethan had his ups and downs, and I knew that he went through a couple of rough patches over the past few years. But he seemed to have leveled out over the last year or so, and was very successful in his endeavors. He was an award-winning writer and journalist. I did not really talk to Ethan much lately, but I had kept up with him.

             Three weeks ago, I received word from Ethan’s mother. He had shot himself, and she found him lying on the floor of the newspaper office in Alabama. Words just simply don’t exist that could ever describe how heartbroken I was. I was absolutely crushed, sick to my stomach, devastated, and absolutely torn apart. I still am some days. Ethan was 30 years old, and he had his whole life ahead of him. I experienced an entire gamut of emotions on the day that I found out; they ranged from extreme anger at Ethan’s selfishness to extreme sadness for his family’s loss and everything in between. Ethan was a strong believer; I made sure of that. If there is any consolation I have, it is that I know for a fact that Ethan was a child of God.

“Why, Ethan???”

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In each of these instances, I have raised the question “why?” Why did these three individuals (all strong believers of God) commit the ultimate act of selfishness? But you know something? As I asked myself “why” during each of these three times, a little voice in the back of my head whispered, “you know why, Stephen….” And, I, unfortunately, do know why.

I know why because I have been in the place that Jarrid, Marvin, and Ethan have been in. The only difference between my situation and theirs is that when they reached the door at the end of that long, dark, tunnel, they stepped through it and closed the door behind them. I have been to that place. I have been to the end of that tunnel, and I have opened, then peeked through that door. I have seen the freedom from pain, and the new and glorious morning that lies on the other side of that door. But each time, I heard God say “no, not yet.”

That long, dark, tunnel is a very scary place to be. You can’t see anything. There’s nothing above you, nothing below you, and nothing on either side of you. There is just blackness. At the far end of the tunnel, you can see the light shining under the door, a small sliver of hope that mysteriously beckons you toward it.

But to open that door and to step through would cause those left behind on earth to endure immeasurable pain. It pains me to say this, but there was a time several years ago when I came so very close. I had a plan, and it was a great plan. But I heard God saying “no, not yet.” And so, I fought, with everything that I had inside of me. I clawed my way back to the other side of that tunnel, and I eventually found the light of this world again.

That is my story. I cannot speak for Jarrid, Marvin, or Ethan. I cannot tell you what went through their minds during their final moments or what caused them to commit the ultimate act of selfishness. But I can speak for myself. And I would almost be willing to bet that their thoughts in their final moments were very similar to mine. I am a natural loner. I love to isolate. And that is a very dangerous thing for me. 2020 was a dangerous year for me. There have been other times of darkness since that moment I experienced in the tunnel a few years ago, but they have not been nearly as bad. I have caught myself passing by the tunnel on occasion, and for a brief moment and I found myself just wanting to jump into the darkness again and head towards that light peeking under the door. But I knew that I could not do that. And so, with God’s help, I have been able to drag myself away from the tunnel each time.

I will always miss Jarrid even though I never met him. And I will most definitely always miss Ethan. I loved Ethan, and I was so proud of who he had become. My dad still to this day misses Marvin. There are some pastors out there who made the argument that if a believer commits suicide, it is an automatic ticket to hell. I have heard that said before. I was talking to my own pastor earlier this year because he had a good friend on staff at his previous church who committed suicide a few years back. It was something that really tore him up for a long time. He and I had a long and fruitful discussion, and I told him about my journey through the tunnel. He assured me that even though he believes that it is the ultimate act of selfishness, he also firmly believes that believers who have chosen to end their lives early are in the arms of Jesus. I have no doubt that Jarrid, Marvin, and Ethan are resting in the arms of Jesus and that their pain is finally healed. And you know, there are some days that I am jealous. I am jealous that they got to see Jesus and I’m not able to yet. They got the ultimate remedy. But each time I feel that jealously coming on, I hear God whisper “I am not done with you.” And so, I wait.

I love answering the questions that my son throws at me each day. I often tell him that I don’t know the answer to every question, but that I can certainly try to find out the answer to why. I don’t want my wife to ever have to ask the question “Why, Stephen???” or my son to have to ask the question “Why, daddy???” So I continue to hold on. And even in those moments when I feel like I can’t hold on anymore, I know that God will never let go of me and he will continue to hold on to me. "Why he let go of me" is a question that I’ll never have to ask!

Honoring The Mother Ship's (First Baptist Church Jackson) Cherished '70s / '80s' Pastor - Dr. Frank Pollard - 6/25/78 transcript

Insinuating The Ultimatum / Rerun relationship

My first Silas relationship was one that cross pollinated (he and I served each other as Silases) despite the fact that we were not (yet - by a long shot) integrated into Samson Society.  And this was because we weren't privy to it (this was 2010 / 2011 / 2012).  Nonetheless, we knew exactly what we both wanted from the friendship for we were both struggling mightily with compulsive sexual sin (porn consumption).

How did this unique precedent-setting relationship originate?  

Chris (Silas 1.0) approached me about having an unassuming lunch.  From there, he announced that he was a "Porn Addict" while we ate our gyro plates at Jerusalem Cafe in Jackson.  As you might imagine, with him being our church's Youth Pastor, I nearly shit a brick when he said this.  

Overall, whilst looking back on this season, I can say that it was an amazing (+/-18) month journey.  

Until it wasn't.  

-------------------------

At the outset of our friendship, Chris' personal and work life were in shambles, and it was mostly his own fault.  Specifically, as it related to his laziness.  Chris loved "winging it" relative to EVERYTHING.  Prep work, in his opinion, was not at all for him.  Instead, he used his "free time" to play video games, surf porn, or watch television / films (keep in mind that he was married with three small children). 

According to Chris, because "winging it" had been his modus operandi throughout his life (he was in his early to mid 30s at this time), he knew of no real way to "chart a new course" (become un-lazy / grow up / become more responsible).  

I can remember vividly chatting and praying, chatting and praying, chatting and praying (after we'd run together) EVERY Tuesday evening in my garage.  And often, we'd end up arguing over some of the pettiest of things.  But, all in all, I never once relinquished my role as his "best gay friend" (his words) as I tried my darndest to understand / support him for such a time as that.  Chris was intelligent / creative and articulate.  I liked that.  Plus, he respected me and all my unique weirdness.

The implosion of our co-Silas relationship occurred when I finally insisted that we expand our group.  Chris was vehemently uninterested in doing this.  He claimed there'd be no benefit to it.  Yet, I believed his argument didn't hold water due to whom I was recommending we loop in.  Hence, I saw it as a win-win for both of us, and therefore the best way forward.

In the end, Chris (to this day) claims I "betrayed" him by going against his wishes in this regard.  

-------------------------

So, why did I do this?

This is a question Chris has never asked.  And the reason he's never asked it is as follows:  all he's ever been concerned with is him being "sold out" (& by the way, I wasn't the only one - historically - to do this to him) and all the negative feelings that came with that.  

I simply cannot relate to his one-way point of view, but I do respect / honor his feelings.

And just so you know, presently, I talk to Chris every week and have been for the past year or so.  He's one of my oldest of friends.  Thanks be to God, via Samson Society National / Regional Retreats, we've found (once again) common relational ground.  Everything that went down before ('12) simply has never been / will never be worked through.  We don't discuss it because we don't see any benefit therein.  It's as if we were two different versions of ourselves at the outset of our longstanding friendship.  Hence, we've learned to leave the past in the past.  And I'm extremely grateful for this miracle approach because I love Chris dearly.  And too, there is so much truth in that statement.

-------------------------

So why did I do to Chris what he so feared would occur?

I looped in a third man in order to relieve my own emotional / spiritual pressure relative to our friendship.  Chris' personal / vocational circumstances, throughout these early years of us communing together, continued to worsen for him (& for our church's youth ministry).  No amount of time together - chatting & praying, chatting & praying - seemed to improve his situation.  Though we very much enjoyed each other's company, I couldn't deny how burdened and used I felt.  

The other portion of this was just how self-focused Chris was during this season.  And I believe this too was due to the ongoing falling out regarding his own personal failings / negligence.  He was literally watching everything fall down around him at this time which had to have been completely overwhelming.

In essence, Rob was rucking it for his Silas, yet each week, more and more weight was being added to the rucksack.  Eventually, I chose to unload some of it onto someone else.  Someone whom I knew also loved / supported Chris as I did.

-------------------------

Why bring all of this up?

Today, I'm in a very similar situation with another man, and frankly, I cannot believe it.  I've been dialoguing multiple times a week with this friend (since March), ending each chat with an intentional prayer, since early '22.  This guy is a few years older than I, and though his situation certainly isn't identical to Chris', there're remarkable similarities.  

David and I met back in February at a regional Samson retreat.  And we hit it off immediately.  And just as with Chris, I deeply pitied this man's situation (vocational / personal).

And so here I am.  As each week passes, David's situation continues to degrade, and once again, my rucksack is simply too much for me to bear.  

I've tried repeatedly (even to the point of having the MTGA facilitator personally invite him) to motivate David to attend the same virtual Samson Society meeting that I regularly attend ("Make Thursdays Great Again"), but he won't make it (or any other Samson Society meeting) a priority.  I desperately want him to make this commitment because I know that group well.  They'll come alongside and love David as I do.  For he's a wonderfully intelligent / articulate Christian man.

Oh, dear Jesus, where do I go from here?  Do I continue forward bearing the weight of this man's situation alone, or do I lay down an ultimatum relative to him taking the necessary steps to expand our too small circle all around?

Please pray for Rob regarding this rerun relationship.