Recommended Reading (Literally)

Review: ‘Just Show Up’ by Drew Dyck (thegospelcoalition.org)

"Polished Bootstraps" - JR Everhart

I grew up in a very legalistic church culture that leaned heavily into - pulling up your bootstraps and just grinding out the jagged road of Christian living.  It was a life of walking on eggshells combined with a creepy candy coating of constant guilt and shame.  By the time I hit high school, I knew I could never live up to those standards.  I remember telling God that, “I’m sorry, but I’m never going to be good enough to be loved and accepted by you or the church…”  From there, I made a conscience decision to walk away from it all.  This slowly grew into unadulterated atheism by the time I was 18.  

I had asked myself, "Why live a life of guilt and shame centered around never being enough?"  I already had enough of that nonsense from my home life and years of abuse I had lived through.  I can recall cussing at God about how he abandoned me during my childhood suffering and bemoaning how I didn’t deserve any of that.  Obviously, I wasn’t a very rationally thinking atheist to be having such conversations with a deity that I didn’t believe in.  It’s funny to think about that whilst looking back. 

A few years later I was ambushed by God‘s love prior to fully surrendering my life to him as an adult.  That was September of 1994.  I wish that was where my story turned around, basking in how I then lived a holy and peaceful life from that point forward.  But that’s not the case.  I was on fire for the first couple of years, even answering the call to pastoral ministry several times.  This led to street ministry and preaching from the pulpit.  As a result, I was fed a steady diet of encouragement to go deeper into ministry, but I was far too broken from my childhood to do any of that.  When my first marriage fell apart, I returned to the bitterness & anger towards God.  (My story is such the rollercoaster, and I won’t bore you with all the gory details, but let’s just say by the time I came out of my second divorce, I was fully aware that God was real and present, but he just seemingly didn’t care specifically for JR.)  In summary, I was tired of pulling up my bootstraps and sucking up the massive abandonment and pain I was feeling. 

And at this point in my life, I also didn’t believe God cared about my past suffering.  Therefore, I believed he stood next to me every day, observing me being cold and detached from it all.  I felt utterly alone and once again abandoned.  During this period of my life, I was self-medicating in ways I’m too ashamed to even talk about.  I can recall fantasizing about suicide in order to finally confront God face-to-face!  I wanted to know why I'd deserved this life of torture and abuse.  This life that had so scarred me as an adult.  I was convinced that I was unlovable, therefore I chose to live my life one day at a time but in deep levels of depression and self-hatred.  All the while, I had a smile on my face, but deep under that was a hurt and abused little kid staring back at me in the mirror saying, “Is this all there is to this world…?” 

Then I had a complete breakdown that forced me into counseling / a super helpful Christian 12-step program.  Nonetheless, during these years of self-abuse and depression, the only prayer I could muster up was, “God, don’t give up on me… I know there has to be something better in this world!"  The Lord had to allow me to hit rock bottom in order to have a firm foundation to springboard off of.  What I discovered - through some very good counseling and recovery work - was that Jesus had been right there with me during my abuse and sorrow.  He was standing next to me, weeping with me, but my pain had me so blinded of this, that all I could hear was the enemy’s lies of self-condemnation.  

Ultimately, when you rob a child of their innocence, they don’t hate their abusers as much as they question what’s wrong with themselves.  Yet, that hate usually comes later when we’re / they're mature enough to understand what has happened to them.  But in those terrible moments, shame and self-condemnation seemingly became imprinted on my DNA.  No one in the churches I attended at that time had any idea how to help me.  I was like a wild boar driven by my carnal instincts destroying everything within my path.  This unidentified pain I was carrying was a trauma reaction.  I had PTSD and didn’t even know it until crippling panic attacks began to surface.

Eventually, I connected with people and programs that successfully identified my pain and could help me respectfully unravel all of it.  From there, my life truly started to move in a better direction.  In recovery we say, “Sobriety delivers what addiction promised…”  This is so true!  Once I stopped blaming God for everything and matured enough to be able to let go of the unforgiveness that was metastasizing within my heart, the healing truly began to take root.  Part of that forgiveness work was forgiving myself for a long list of hurt that I had caused to people and family around me.  As a result, my amends process was very hard to execute and very uncomfortable, but it was entirely necessary.  It didn’t happen overnight.  Instead, it took years, and the growth therein was slow going.  But at this point - even after my third divorce - I had found peace and harmony in my life like I'd never experienced prior.

This brought me to understanding the character of God beneath the umbrella of his grace and mercy.  And not once have I had to "walk out my faith with tightened-up bootstraps".  Instead, I have agency with a heart of tenderness toward myself and those around me.  It's important to know that I’m a huge personality, and stress sometimes does get the best of me.  But now, I don’t internalize my failures.  Instead, I lay them at the foot of the cross, allowing Christ’s forgiveness to flow over me.  I'm not at all ashamed to simply brush myself off, stand up, raise my head high and move forward with my life.  Failure is very much a part of my life, but now it doesn’t drag me into a pit of depression.  Instead, it creates an opportunity to grow and learn from my mistakes as I live my life in victory because of what Jesus did on the cross.  

JR is finally at peace with being broken, because now he understands that we’re all broken, and no one is getting it right all the time.  Inside that wisdom is the freedom to live above guilt and shame in order to walk proud under God's grace.  Polishing my bootstraps only gave me blisters.  But letting go and trusting in God's goodness is where I discovered true freedom and satisfaction within my life. 

Recommended Listening - The Easy Peasy Way To Quit Porn

Recommended Reading

 Seize the Season: Three Ways Fathers Capture Advent | Desiring God

Once More, A Boiled Toad

Being same-sex attracted has always been my sexual norm.  I've never known anything different.  When I began dating my future wife (mid-'90s), I was far more attracted to her holistically than likely other potential suitors might have been.  And this springboarded off of our childhood friendship which became far more important than either of us realized 'till we began dating.  Angie was tender.  Her touch was soft and consistent.  Plus, she was loyal to a fault.  I could go on, but my point here is I had the benefit of being able to easily look beyond the sole opportunity to lay with her (intercourse), as her husband, in regard to potentially marrying.

Another norm for me is the Deep South culture.  A big portion of which basks in college football competition / rivalries.  This one too is experienced by Rob in ways that don't necessarily fit the typical Mississippi redneck.

It's important to know that Mississippi is all I know relative to a home.  As such, it's a hotbed of football-loving and has been for as long as I've known it.  My dad, Robert, Sr., grew up immersed in this Southeastern Conference culture.  As such, it's as definitive as the very blood type that circulates through his veins.

I joined the marching band (clarinet / drum major) in middle school out of curiosity (& as an escape route from PE class) more than anything else.  As such, Friday nights during each of my subsequent fall semesters were mostly spent back on the private academy's grounds - at each and every football game. 

From there, I segued into my college's marching band where again, I spent every fall weekend (along with three bowl games!) supporting the team, but this time, I was wearing a maroon & white band uniform.  At the conclusion of 1994, my tenure as a Maroon Band member bittersweetly came to a close.

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Whilst looking back, regarding football, I really was like a submerged frog in a pot of gradually heated water.  Yet, there were two confounding constants:  1) how undecipherable the game was to me as a teen & subsequently 2) the reality that every matchup occurred under the cover of darkness.  

For I'd certainly never played the game.  Therefore, having only very rarely tossed a pigskin with my father, I found myself sitting in those rickety wooden stands feeling more like a comatose queue (on standby to march during halftime) than an actual spectator.     

But now, as a 51-year-old, I can comprehend the game well enough to follow the action.  Nonetheless, even if I squint my eyes closed, I have the ability to keep up with the plays with relative ease.  

And this leads me to the following realization:  Football players, after all these years, are now becoming recognizable as individuals.  And not just for their specific assigned positions on the field.  Their names on the back of their jerseys, specifically, are beginning to register within my brain, proving to me that these are real men.

Some of which are very physically attractive men.

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Today (specifically regarding the past three seasons), I've interloped yet again into the routine of supporting football games.  And this is in line with my oldest daughter being a pep squad member at her collegiate institution of choice with me (& Angie) being the supportive parent(s).   

Disappointingly, her college's football team hasn't performed well during the majority of these seasons, therefore it's been absolutely no fun to attend the games - from that perspective.  

Hence, I have found myself, throughout these 4+ tedious hours, doing everything in my power to simply endure the mercilessly horrific gameplay.

As such, this has led me to take note of one player in particular, who just happens to station himself almost directly in front of our seats.  And all I know to say about that is, thanks be to God for beautiful men.

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At this stage in my recovery, I don't consume gay porn in order to lust.  Why?  I simply see that approach as past tense for Rob.  Nonetheless, when I do choose to delve into it, it's in pursuit of two things:  1) videos / photos of guys who fit my masculine archetype being sexual - to some degree or another, and 2) these same guys displaying acts of physical tenderness towards each other.

There's not a lot of porn out there that fits this bill because...

A sizable number of porn models who participate onscreen in homosexual sex aren't actually same-sex attracted.  The vast majority are simply guys who're enduring, not unlike I tend to be whilst attending the aforementioned culturally ubiquitous college football games.  Many of these models certainly have a track record within the gay porn industry, but it's exclusively that reputation that they build their simulated performances on as they contractually agree to collaborate within countless (sometimes hundreds, if not thousands) mechanizable features. 

I too have a football game track record that (either as a pep squad / band member or spectator), for me, now spans decades of my life, but it doesn't mean I have today or will ever have in the future any real interest in football.  

The big money for attractive, muscular, masculine (straight-acting) porn models is within the production of gay porn.  Why?  A lot of folks (particularly same-sex attracted folks) consume it very, very regularly.  And yes, that includes women who're completely uninterested in seeing women within their porn palette.  

But the quagmire here is can these straight, college / pro football player-like men display genuine tenderness - towards each other - within this genre?  Especially considering the fact that tenderness is absolutely uncalled for within heterosexual porn features.

Mostly no.  Thankfully no.  & most of the time, if they make the attempt, it looks incredibly forced.

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I'm fortunate to only have one additional year of college football spectatorship that I must endure (my pep squad daughter will be a senior next year!).  From there, my plan is to never attend another college football game unless someone leads me into one at gunpoint.  For I have truly had my fill of it for a lifetime.

And thanks be to God that there's so little online - today - relative to gay porn that captures my interest.  I suppose I've literally become, yet again, a boiled toad in this regard as well.  

Recommended Reading - Understanding (Historically) The Impact Of Childhood Trauma

How a 1976 kidnapping transformed our understanding of childhood trauma | CNN

Give Me ONE Undeniable Reason To Avoid Utilizing Meta's (Facebook / Instagram) Social Networks

Meta Is Struggling to Boot Pedophiles Off Facebook and Instagram - WSJ

DELETE YOUR ACCOUNTS TODAY!  WHY SUPPORT A CORPORATION THAT KNOWINGLY LOOKS AWAY WHEN THEIR TECH IS BEING USED BY PEDOPHILES - OR ANYONE FOR THAT MATTER - WHO'S WILLING TO GLORIFY / RALLY AROUND THE EXPLOITATION OF CHILDREN?

DISGUSTING.

Lagniappe