Honoring The Mother Ship's (First Baptist Church Jackson) Cherished '70s / '80s' Pastor - Dr. Frank Pollard - 4/02/78 transcript

"The Year Of The Locust" - JR Everhart

I’m currently on vacation at the beach.  I’m staying right on the boardwalk on 2nd St. in Ocean City, MD.  What that means is it’s 10:30pm, and the boardwalk is still packed with people on a Tuesday night.  So, needless to say, it’s a busy place.  I love it here because it’s my home beach, the one I enjoy most.  But it’s the first vacation I’ve ever taken alone.  There are tons of memories here regarding my last two marriages.  I’m a people-watcher, and just seeing all these young kids (early 20’s) walking hand in hand, thinking life couldn’t get any better than this - boy, I remember feeling that way with various women over the years.  But it just seems like a distant memory now, overshadowed by multiple divorces, and failed romance time and time again.  I was so broken back then, and way too stupid to know how awesome those times really were.  Instead, I picked and poked at whomever I was with and drove them crazy with my narcissistic ways.  Yeah, I wasn’t great at picking very good women, but I sure didn’t help matters any.  I just couldn’t live and let live.  I died over every hill, and it wore each woman down to a nub. 

Watching these young couples laugh and tease each other reminds me of the innocence that existed in those younger days.  I’d give anything to go back knowing what I know now and do it all over again.  But, that’s not reality.  Boy, what a clumsy walk this life is.  It just seems like yesterday that everything was okay.  I was happily married - for what I thought - was the third and final time.  But, yet again, it somehow slipped through my fingers, even in the face of enormous growth and 7-years of back-breaking effort.  Sometimes, I’m just lost as to how it all fell apart, but it did. 

So instead of acting out and running into the arms of whatever whore I could find (like I had done so many times in the past), I’ve since chosen to FINALLY do something different.  I’ve connected with support groups and leaned into my friends around me.  God knows I’ve had my battles, but I’m still a post-divorce virgin.  Meaning I haven’t had sex with anyone since my ex-wife.  I think I just got sick of the sexual rollercoaster, and hence, decided to get off the ride and leave the amusement park.  The old up and downs of the past just aren't as satisfying as before.  They just leave me sick to my stomach and dizzy.  Maybe I’ve finally realized that making the same mistakes over and over and expecting a different result is actually absolute insanity!  It amazes me, looking back, how I just kept trying over and over, falling in the same mud each time.  I’ve given up so much at the alter of sexual idolatry.  And honestly, I feel like I’ve lost entire years.  And I'm referring to  the good years of my life which I'll never get back.  I’ll be 50 this year, and definitely don’t have the sex appeal I used to have.  Most of which is because I’ve lost the player/rebel persona, and I don’t really care to be the bad boy anymore.  You can’t be those things when your heart is healthy and full of loving desire to help those around you.  Recovery changes your brain chemistry the same way addiction does. When it changed in me, I literally lost a part of who I was.  A bad part that was the womanizer-bad-boy who was always laying traps and snares for the beautiful women around me.  That guy could spin a web of bullshit and sexual tension with the best of them.  He didn’t care about anything or anyone except his next orgasm.  That was the dangerous part.  Once he got you to his alter of sex (his bed), he would cast a demonic spell of pleasure over a woman’s body.  A spell they rarely said no to a second time.  It’s all built on lies, and I could feel a demonic anointing over me in those times of raw desire.  I can remember my original recovery counselor breaking out the anointing oil in one of our early sessions because I had said that to her.  She prayed over me that day, and it broke some kind of bondage in my spirit.  Afterwards, I was free from that satanic control.  I remember leaving that session like I had been stripped naked, bathed in God's grace, and reclothed.  I was shell shocked for at least a day or so after that.  That was almost ten years ago, and I can remember it like it happened five minutes ago. 

I’m so glad I’m not that guy anymore.  Sometimes, I really don’t know who I am.  My reactions to things and situations surprise even me sometimes.  I’m not the same, and old things have truly passed away.  Or at least that’s how it seems.  Who knows, maybe I’ll fall clean off the wagon and into total relapse tomorrow?  Lol.  I make no promises anymore because I get sick of letting people down.  But I will say this: My track record doesn’t look horrible.  Yeah, it’s clumsy and I definitely stumble, but I don’t fall on my face much anymore.  And right now, I’m free to do whatever sexual evil my heart desires…but I don’t.  My heart desires true love and connection versus empty, soulless sex like an animal.  I want to be loved, I deserve to be loved and will not compromise on that again. Sure, there’re times I see a beautiful woman and my mind starts to race.  But somehow, and I’m still trying to figure this out, I find myself wondering what burden of suffering she may be carrying, or I start thinking about how she’s a mother to an innocent kid or daughter to a loving father.  I think about my adult daughters and how much I love them.  Somewhere there’s a father that loves her that much.  These things have come from almost a decade of trying to unravel my view of women, as an instrument of my personal pleasure, and instead have prayed for God to reveal to me who these human beings are as people Jesus died for.  I remember asking God to allow me to see women as he sees them.  I wanted to earn the right to be friends with females without a cloud of sexual tension around me all the time.  God did that and more! 

God also started revealing to me how my sex appeal came off as the "creepy uncle" that hugged you a little too long.  NOT the cool, smooth stud I thought I was in my head.  It’s embarrassing to even mention...  Boy, nothing will defuse your pride quicker than realizing you're the laughingstock within some of the cliques of women you thought you were playing.  I might as well have been wearing a polyester suit and a pimp cane… Once I realized this, I started to change quickly.  But it was still a process. 

Unfortunately, the world is full of loose woman weighed down by the lusts of this world, and they enjoy eating up all the playa bad-boy stuff.  I’ll never forget the first time I read 2nd Timothy 3:6:

“For of this sort are those who creep into households and make captives of gullible women loaded down with sins, led away by various lusts”.  I was the guy working my way into gullible women’s homes and leading them away by their lustful desires.  You must realize that was very uncomfortable but very eye opening for me.  It was a game-changer.  It just took me ten years to figure out how to crawl out of that mindset.  The locust were still robbing me during my recovery, and my last divorce was the latest harvest to fall victim to its decay.  I still lament all that, the pain is still fresh and tender.  But, I’m surviving and even thriving some days.  It’s getting easier with each day…even when those days are full of tears and suffering.  It’s all part of God's plan, and anything other than absolute surrender and trust will only put me on a road back to distorted thinking and bondage.  The locust stop here!  Or at least I hope they do.  Lol.  God knows I’m trying and growing.  I just get tired of trying and growing and want to fast forward to the season of blessing.  But, I’m learning patience along the way as well.  In Joel 2:25 God promises to restore what the locust stole from me.  I have no idea how that’s going to happen at this age, but it’s not for me to figure out.  That sort of thing is above my pay grade.  I just need to trust and believe, you know, the good fight of faith…

Recommended Reading

 Purity Means Seeing More, Not Less (thegospelcoalition.org)

My Samson Friend, The Registered Sex Offender

The virtual Samson Society meetings have opened additional platonic doors for Rob, and me choosing to walk through those has instituted more and more friendships.  As such, stories are shared, and my horizons are widened.  And this is what I need to experience in order to hopefully become more sympathetic.

Last night, I dined with a registered sex offender.  Now, this was a first for me (to my knowledge).  And Eddie was amazingly welcoming (we dined somewhat on his home turf in AR).  

So, you may be wondering how all of this came to be.

Within the "Make Thursdays Great Again" Thursday night virtual Samson Society meetings, we "share our stories" once a month.  Now, this particular virtual Samson meeting is usually +/-30 men in attendance.  Hence, Mr. Justin Schwind breaks us up into small groups, of usually no more than four guys.  Thursday, (7/7) I had the good fortune of being algorithmically assigned to Eddie's Zoom small group, and this allowed me to hear a snapshot version of his story.  From there, we connected - after the fact - via Slack which efficiently allowed us to schedule last night's rendezvous.

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

An old friend (native Jackson Metro guy) who's recently become deeply committed to Samson Society chose to take the plunge through virtual means in lieu of joining one of the five local Jackson, Mississippi groups.  

Why?

Anonymity.

He had no desire to risk rubbing shoulders, within a local Samson Society meeting, with someone who knew either him or his family - past or present.  

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

Looking back to 2014, had I had access to an as well-established virtual Samson Society as there is today, I likely would have never joined a local group.  Now, keep in mind that both culturally and technologically, there's been a massive paradigm shift towards the virtual over the past three years.  This shift grew out of COVID-19.  No one could have ever imagined said shift prior to the pandemic.  But it happened.  And it changed everything.

I can remember attending the 2020 National Samson Society retreat in Eva, TN.  The vast majority of the speakers cancelled at the last minute in an attempt to protect (the few) attendees from suspect COVID-19 exposure.  I remember emailing Mr. Nate Larkin from my assigned bunkhouse, bemoaning his absence as well.  To me, it was simply unthinkable having a National Samson Society retreat without Nate present.

But this was our turning point.  For the virtual meetings had already been established well before the pandemic.  The groundwork had been laid.  The precedent set.

Hence, post pandemic, the virtual Samson Society community has skyrocketed.  

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

If you're interested in truly getting your feet wet via Samson Society, consider joining a virtual meeting.  You don't necessarily have to jettison your commitment to a local Jackson, Mississippi Samson meeting.  Instead, use the virtual meeting as a complement.  You'll have zero regrets.  Plus, more and more guys will benefit from knowing you and your story & vice versa.  And this is where the magic truly happens.  

"What Are You Doing?"

Angie walked in on me masturbating a few evenings ago.  I was in my usual spot in our bathroom, seated in front of the full-length mirror which is affixed to the rear of our toilet room door.  I'd gotten out of bed quietly before slipping into the bathroom, stripped down (I only wear skivvies to bed), lit a candle and gone to work.  

"What are you doing?"  

For the past 26-years of our marriage, this has been her knee-jerk response to every single unexpected masturbation encounter.

"I'm masturbating."

This was all I knew to say.

From there, she admitted needing to pee.  Hence, I scooted my petite chair over enough for her to get by.  She peed and then returned to bed.

Within five or so minutes, I could hear her quiet snores.  And then I returned to it.

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

For many wives, an encounter like this one (between themselves & their husbands) would have wielded a much different response.  But for Angie and I, her tepid response is rooted in how insignificant sex is for she and I as husband / wife.  And, it isn't like we're anomalous in this regard.  I believe most middle-aged couples (who've the tenure she and I do), have built their marriages on far more significant experiences than jumping up and down on top of each other, performing cunninlingus / fellatio.

Too, Angie had a stroke a few years back.  A stroke which has left her disabled.  As such, she is not the same physically as she was prior to (5/29/00).

And, I really benefit from bisecting myself (via reflection) whilst occasionally masturbating.  It helps me to offset that void.  

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

The next day she asked me what chair I was using to sit in whilst masturbating.  I told her, and she was not at all happy.  

"Keep your nasty butt out of my chair."

  

Recommended Reading

 If Your Brother Sins Against You: How to Forgive and Let Go | Desiring God

"The High Cost Of Recovery" - JR Everhart

The more I distance myself from toxic people, the more I find myself isolated.  Making new friends is tough these days, and connection is essential to sober survival.  So, I march on in faith that God will provide.  So much of my struggles come from loneliness and unmet needs of physical attention that only a woman can give.  What do you do when the Bible instructs you to take a wife to stay pure, but the dating scene is like a shark tank filled with battery acid?  Lol.  I’m not attracted to the women that seem to have things together.  As such, the women I am attracted to are so bombarded by other guys I rarely have a chance to even start a conversation with them.  It all leaves me feeling abandoned into my own struggles and failures.  It can be a dark place to be if I don’t stay connected to a support group.  And honestly, even then, it’s still about coming home to an empty house, and being left to my own devices. I don’t lose the battle all the time; in fact, I win much more than I lose.  But it’s still there, that aching for the physical touch of a woman.  I know it sounds bleak and depressing, but God is faithful, and he always provides distractions and hobbies to keep me busy.  But there are times I’m exhausted from all that.  Exhausted from the fight and all the recovery hoops I have to jump through to make it through my day or week.  But hey, it’s way better than the alternative…

I mean really, what am I going to do, return to the swingers' scene and dive into a life of empty sex with mostly strangers again?  Been there, done that.  It jacked me up pretty hard, and the pain I went through from that was way worse than anything I’ve ever dealt with in recovery. 

Ironically, I’ve run into who-used-to-be my favorite swinger female, twice in the last two weeks.  It still triggers the daylights out of me.  My dumb ass had fallen in love with her, and that’s the unpardonable sin inside the swingers' scene.  I can’t look at her without a flood of memories coming back, and it jacks me up for at least 24-48hrs.  But I let the tape play in my mind, and remember all the hell I went through when I walked away from all that.  It was not pretty; I had a complete nervous breakdown and was almost hospitalized.  I struggled with panic attacks and anxiety for years after all that.  Even years into my recovery journey.  But my inner child is still very hurt over our breakup.  She was married with kids, and I was just her favorite lay, so it was what it was.  But even with all that said, I’ll take my recovery lumps and bruises over fake connection and smiles masking the broken-leper-inside-of-that-shell of a woman any day.  So, I just keep on trucking - in faith - that God's going to make everything alright.  Anything’s better than bondage to all that addiction junk.  One step at a time; one day at a time.  And push through the tough times, knowing tomorrow is a new day, with fresh perspective and more of God's grace.  Anything less is a plate full of old failure and depression. 

This walk is not for sissies!  There are times I feel like I’m not going to make it, and then other times I feel like all I do is win.  It’s such a rollercoaster, but hey, that’s the human experience.  The enemy keeps trying to convince us we’re not enough, and Jesus is trying to convince us to trust that he’s enough for whatever life throws at us.  It’s a constant tug of war.  It’s Romans 7 & 8 all over again. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever grow beyond those two chapters of the Bible.  But I can look at my life and see progress, so that’s hopeful.  But it always seems to lead back to my first fruits.  Pain is always just under the surface, ready to bubble up at the least little sign of emotion.  I was listening to a podcast the other day about non-sexual physical touch, and I cried for 30 minutes.  A man’s need for female connection is real, and when it’s not part of your life, only Jesus can help you through that valley of dry bones.  But I’m not hopeless; I’m just walking through that season of uncomfortable growth before my next blessing.  This will not last forever; no matter how much the enemy tries to tell me it will.  But, I’m learning to trust in God on a level I’ve never experienced.  So that is part of the process.  So, forward I march, one step at a time, one day at a time.