"New growth" was the theme of this, my first YOB retreat; slightly ironic as fall was slowly putting the world to sleep. The sun felt defiantly hot that first day, beating down on tall trees that simultaneously clung to summer green while shedding autumn red and gold. I was exhausted from a stressful week and travel delays. Now I faced a weekend of interacting with virtual strangers. Literally. Aside from a handful whom I had met in person, my fellow YOBBERS were tiny faces on a screen. I had discovered YOB some months prior. I was desperate, starving for some kind of connection with other men who understood my journey.
When you are 60, you'd think that you no longer experience growth spurts. It's more recognizing life's process of devolution and slow decay, at least on the outside. This year’s YOBBERS retreat was not about expecting profound change, or gaining insights into myself and God that I would carry home; rather, it was seizing an opportunity to meet a group of men with whom I had dialogued, listened to, and only seen in postage stamp-sized pictures on Zoom – men of faith who share a common struggle to live the sexual ethic of the Gospels as they understand it.
Tom hits the road and talks with longtime friend Matt in the same room! The guys cover their weekend together in the Land of Enchantment (New Mexico), from the magical Balloon Fiesta to mystical White Sands National Park and multiple church services interspersed! The guys reminisce on 12 years of friendship, affirming one another for the growth they’ve seen in the other. They also discuss straight guys in the backseat yearning for hot girls, sharing adventures with others versus going them alone, and Jesus' fulfilling the Tabernacle of old.
Fours are emotional creatures. We feel things. We feel things deeply and often. A leaky faucet doesn't do the metaphor justice; my heart feels more like a fire hydrant turned loose on a city street. Handling the hydrant has challenged me my whole life, but especially these last few years. I've seen some success. And I also recognize how much room I have yet to grow.
Just when you thought our Enneagram series was finished – we're back with another Ennea episode! We promise this ConvoCast will actually be the last one on the Enneagram (at least for a good while). We wanted to tie a bow on this series by bringing back Ben, who helped kick off this series on YOBcast 095, talking with somebody who doesn't identify as one particular Enneagram type but with multiple ones. This final episode of the series is for the "Enneagram wanderers" and "Enneagram prodigals" – those who find themselves bouncing and searching among several types, and those more apathetic (or perhaps antagonistic?) with the Enneagram. We hope this broader conversation on decision-making, vices, and virtues resonates wherever you stand with (or even against) the Enneagram!
How do I deal with unmet sexual desire? It's a question which led me to ask, what is my sexual desire? Of course, "sexual desire" is a category with a lot of things in it. "There's a lot of different fish in that bucket," I told myself. But let's not call it a bucket. Let's call it an aquarium so all the fish have plenty of room to swim around, and so we can get a good look at them.
Here's one vocabulary term I've taken away from therapy: euphoric recall. I'd never heard that phrase until last year, and it gives language to this nebulous internal struggle I've faced since my first bout with pornography at 19.
For so many years I thought I was just dirty, lustful, and awful for thinking all these terrible sexual thoughts. I was filled with constant shame because the sexually intrusive thoughts kept coming. The realization that I can actually, with practice, redirect my own thoughts, is more freeing than I can write.
Jesse discusses his inclination to order and perfection and how that has translated to a need to "clean up" before God, particularly with his sexuality. He shares his love for lists and how he's only recently begun to prioritize tending to his sexual and gender identity. He talks about his messy stress path into Four as well as his security into Seven, including how he embraces a more spontaneous, adventure-seeking nature with his guy friends -- but only for two hours at a time.
Phillip Henry died yesterday at 29 years of age. That was the short, somber text message on my phone. No! Not Phillip! I thought. He was such a close friend. That last thought was only a half-truth. My friendship with Phillip had only just begun, and I'd had such hopes for it. Now, he was gone.