Jack Morse was about to break his promise.

In his late 20s, the Belmont man “was fed up with everything” and decided to flee south, leaving behind his wife, Shirley, and three boys, ages 6, 5, and 4.

“I was one of those fathers that run,” Morse recalled earlier this week over coffee at a Searsport truck stop. “I went to Miami, the farthest I could get away with what money I had.”

It was the fall of 1992, and after he was in Florida a few weeks, Hurricane Andrew struck, making his life “just total miserable,” he said.

While her husband wandered, Shirley Morse rode an emotional roller coaster, but found strength in prayer and in her church. By September 1992, Jack Morse had returned home.

But he still wasn’t keeping his promise.

Only after a spiritual rededication of his life and his introduction to a group of Christian men called Promise Keepers did Morse, now 31, begin to change the way he relates to his family.

Morse first heard about the group on the radio and wanted to know more. As he became involved, he found he had to give up the male notion that he couldn’t express himself and be close to anyone.

“Before last spring, I struggled with just praying with my three boys,” he said. “It sounds simple. But with my upbringing, without sharing my feelings, I could not pray with my boys.

“With this, we’ve been praying ever since.”

“This,” for Morse and about 280,000 other men nationwide, is a surging movement that stresses commitment by men to Jesus Christ, integrity, wives and children, hometown churches and close relationships with other men.

“In society today, there seems to be so few, or even no moral absolutes, and lots of confusion and lack of commitment,” said the Rev. Armand Jalbert, pastor of Caribou’s Calvary Baptist Church, a Southern Baptist congregation.

“This is something that emphasizes commitment. That’s why they call it Promise Keepers. It’s keeping promises you’ve made,” said Jalbert, whose church has been the site of an organizational meeting for the group in Aroostook County. The next major County rally is planned for April 19 at the Family Christian Center in Presque Isle.

In Maine, the group is young enough that it is not yet formally affiliated with the national Promise Keepers, based in Boulder, Colo. Instead, the “task forces” in Maine are part of Maine Men of Integrity, which has regional groups based in Portland, Augusta and Aroostook County. Nearly 3,000 men are on the state group’s mailing list. The group is recruiting participants Down East and in the County, as well as in Bangor and Lincoln. Its leadership in Maine is by laymen, with the closest paid staffer in Connecticut.

A Promise Keeper makes seven promises:

To honor Christ through prayer and worship.

To develop “vital” relationships with a small group of men for support.

To practice spiritual, moral, ethical and sexual purity.

To build a strong marriage through love, protection and biblical values.

To support a member’s local church and pastor.

To reach beyond racial and denominational barriers.

To follow Christ’s commandment to spread the gospel.

This Christian men’s movement is the brainchild of former University of Colorado football coach Bill McCartney and his friends, who dreamed in 1990 of filling stadiums with 50,000 men who would come together for training and teaching about what it means to be a “godly” man.

This year, about 20 men-only mass rallies will be held in stadiums across the United States, including one in Syracuse, N.Y., June 7-8 that will be attended by at least four busloads of Maine men. The rallies consist of exhortational preaching and music written for Promise Keepers that takes the middle road between Christian rock ‘n’ roll, which some churches oppose, and traditional hymns.

Helping arrange the buses and spread the word throughout Maine is a Morrill man, Bob Hannington, who has become a lay ambassador for Maine Men of Integrity and wears the Promise Keepers’ “PK” logo on his lapel.

Hannington, 59, has served his congregation, the Morrill Baptist Church, as Sunday school superintendent and transportation arranger for years. Then, about three years ago, a Christian friend gave Hannington a videotape about Promise Keepers.

“I just felt the Lord was working through this to touch men’s lives,” Hannington said. “And I don’t care which church: Men need to be in a situation where they can relate to one another and have a close friend.”

The movement’s roots are in evangelical Christianity. McCartney and Promise Keepers’ leaders tend to steer clear of the political involvement associated with some other conservative Christian organizations.

A few years ago, McCartney drew fire when he endorsed an anti-gay rights ordinance in Colorado. Promise Keepers doesn’t have a creed, as such, but its “statement of faith” adheres closely to conservative Christian theology, including the notion that gays need to repent.

Hannington said the movement has gotten a bad rap from some women’s groups. The Greater Bangor chapter of the National Organization for Women hasn’t had any reports about Promise Keepers. But a national official of the Washington-based organization has chided the movement for suggesting that men “must take back control of the family.”

Hannington disagreed with that assessment. “The women are honored in the program,” he said. “They’re lifted up. I’ve never heard anything but a positive thing about women in the whole program.”

It is not affiliated with the Rev. Louis Farrakhan’s Nation of Islam, which offered similar rhetoric about commitment by men during its “Million Man March” in Washington last year. Promise Keepers, however, stresses interracial cooperation, as well as close cooperation with local pastors — people some evangelistic movements have often ignored.

Jalbert of the Caribou church said Promise Keepers’ lack of emphasis on money and denominationalism is part of its drawing power. “They do have a strong emphasis on supporting the local church,” he said.

Beyond the rallies, which capture much of the media attention, the most striking aspect of Promise Keepers is its insistence on men forming close relationships. Once home from the rallies, men are encouraged to form “accountability” groups of three men each that meet regularly for support.

Literature about the movement calls these small groups “covenant relationships,” through which a man “willingly grants other men the right to inquire about his relationship with God, his commitment to his family, his sexuality, his financial dealings, and his relationships to others.”

Hannington said such small groups help men turn relationships into friendships. “Somewhere along the line, you ought to look up the word `friend,’ because you’re only going to have about three in your lifetime,” he said. Strict confidence is pledged by each of the members.

“You’ve got to give it time,” Hannington said. “Sometimes it’ll take you two years before you all start to share, and start to really care about one another. And men have a very hard time in sharing with one another — because men are supposed to be macho, remember?

“What this is saying — It’s all right to shed a tear over a problem,” he said. “It’s all right for you to share. It’s all right to want your brother to be praying for you and helping you out.”

For more information, call Maine Men of Integrity, 588-0116.