Wise Decisions of the 2nd Grade

This is a conversation that one of my second graders brought up after snack on the playground the other day:

Shamari: “Hey Mr. Matt after I’m done with my juice cup can I use it as a cup?”

Me: ……… “Shamari I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

Shamari: “Can I use my cup as a cup?”

Me: ……… “Um I think so. Shamari I don’t understand what you’re wanting to do.”

Shamari: “A CUP!!!”  takes the cup in his hand and puts it on the zipper of his pants. “You know, for protection.”

Me: Oh! um……… buddy I don’t think you’ll be needing something like that until you’re a little bit older….

Warning: This post is not suitable for children who still believe in Santa Clause

The anticipation has ceased. Finally, we’ve arrived. The culmination of the year is now less than 25 days away.

25 days.

On the eve of the day before, a holy visitation will commence and there will be tangible proof of it the following, glorious morning.

And this year might be my best year for it. I have only received 2 conducts and was taken out into the hall only once and it really wasn’t even my fault. Though my list hasn’t manifested in a concrete form, it has been oh so clear and concise ever since last January. I have no need at all to write it down. It is literally ingrained in my head.

As the days go by I feel more inclined to tip toe throughout each day toward the final prize as if in a mine field careful with each step to arrive to the other side; convinced that my two conduct cuts and unfortunate hall experience will be the pinnacle of my evil deeds for the year.

Weeks are closing in on, what is now seemly, the crown of the century, I mention to my closer relatives the second-rate prioritized items on my directory of satisfaction while I’ll leave the bigger, more important accolades to the big, jolly man who mysteriously knows everything about me. I’ve even been told that he already knows what I want before I even tell him.

The eve of the greatest day in history has arrived. I’m almost scared about it. In worried and yet exciting way I just want December 25 to be here and through. We’ve got everything planned.

The fresh baked cookies set out the cleanest platter I could find.

Whole milk in a full glass. (not that cheap skim milk)

Carrot is and celery for his reindeer. (out of all the things to feed reindeer why carrots and celery?) Whatever.

Our tree is lit and voluptuous.

And the most important thing of all; there’s not fire in the fire place.

This is the one night that I experience sleep insomnia. I’m very sure however that I’m not the only one in the world that has a first encounter with a term in can’t spell, let alone what it means (except for the kids that know they’re receiving coal). The thought that continuously captivates my mind is, “Will I hear him land on my roof? I’m on the second floor so if anyone should I should right?” I know the law as well; that he knows when I’m awake but low and behold, I have a plan. I soon as I hear him I will shut my eyes and act like I’m sleeping.

I practiced this over and over again. I could have been hired that night to act in a movie I was so good. He would never know. Inevitably so much practice led me to actual sleep at least for a few hours. I woke up and quickly turned my attention to the only gleaming digital light in the room that read 5:30. “Has he already come? Is he here right now and I just didn’t hear him land?” I decided that he must have already been there and I did just as any other “believe” would do at the time. I would put on whatever was necessary to enable me to open presents (i.e. underwear and a rob) and navigate the fastest way down to the tree while notifying my parents that I’m going down. If it was faster for me to  jump down the entire stair case than rather run down them I would (which is a good way to break bones which happened).

I would arrive at the breath taking scene of and abundance of presents as well as already revealed wondrous gifts to put together and take pleasure in. “How did he know?” Would puzzle my mind the entire morning as I would build the contraptions that lay before and entertain myself with these amazing materialistic pleasures. So many thoughts running through my mind summed up in one word: bliss.

But the pain-saking news that would bring all my years of gaining knowledge and developing doctrine around this mysterious, jolly fat man crashing down and inevitably bring my world to a halt al least for a couple days. This…..anti-gospel would come from none other than my own beloved father the day after Christmas when he thought it would be an appropriate time to unleash this untamable beast upon me. “Son you know that there’s no such thing as Santa Clause. You know your mother and I by all that stuff for you right?”

What? No. Surely not.

What about all the evidence? What about the cookies and milk and those dang carrots! My parents don’t even like carrots do they?! He’s got to be lying. All the stories I’ve heard from other kids witnessing Santa coming down their chimney’s and all the being good and making a list.

And I can swear that I’ve heard him land on our roof before!!! I know it he has to be lying!

“Oh yeah I know dad.” were sadly the words that seemed to drip from my mouth. No arguments; no questions or apologetics. Just bitter, empty surrender to the truth which would lead to a snowball effect. Turned out later that the faithful Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny weren’t in existence either.

And this is my problem. See like many many more suburban children, I was taught to believe in Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Jesus. Oooo……see the problem?

“Wow if Santa isn’t real, and this tooth fairy, then this Jesus guy I guess…..” could be a complete fairy tale to my children. I wonder that perhaps many church going people have the same view and attitude about the king as they do about Santa and Mr. Easter Bunny. That it’s this thing we all talk about and do things in the name of but we really don’t believe in any of it. That it’s this delusion of unexplained magical powers and mysticism. And for my children to get caught in that trap is not something I’m willing to see about.

Fear Part 3: Jumping Off of Waterfalls

It’s been a while since I’ve updated this but I’ve been learning. It seems as if the more and more occasions that fear shows up the more the holy spirit seems to reveal about it’s attributes. 4th of July weekend provided such opportunities.

We went on a weekend retreat to Polk County Tennessee because my best friend is moving with his wife to Nashville and this weekend was sort of a “goodbye” retreat. On Sunday we took a hike upstream to a beautiful waterfall and swimming area where not only could we immerse ourselves in the stream but we could jump in from a rock about 25 feet up from the water. Enthralled with the idea of plunging in to the refreshing pool several of us started the short climb up the gargantuan of a rock only to again await a oh so familiar foe that is stemmed from our own creation (yes fear is our creation). One of my friends (we’ll call him Eli) got to the pinnacle of the rock to jump off and the mysterious adversary we called fear showed up faithful to hold him back. Suddenly the 25 foot rock is a little higher than it was before; the rocks below are a little sharper and seem very hungry for the blood in my head; suddenly the pool was very shallow. Oh how faithful fear is at his job.

Now as I mentioned previously fear is a futuristic entity. It never has to do with your past or what’s at present. It always has to do with the future whether that is years from now or right before your very eyes. “What if I slip right as I jump? What if I don’t jump far enough and I hit my head on a rock? What if I land wrong?” So many “What if” questions and that’s the problem; “What if” is not reality. Yes there is a possibility that you will but at this point in time right now that is not reality and Eli hitting his head on a rock does not exist in any form except theoretical. Eli slipping and hitting his head is just as real as aliens invading the earth. I realize how far fetched this seems but it proves my point. Statistically are there better chances of him hitting his head more than aliens landing, but my point is that neither exist at all, yet both seem to determine and run people’s lives. It’s why he took so long to jump.

It’s why when you were 8 you were so scared to jump in the deep in of the pool.

It’s why your so afraid of snakes.

It’s why you didn’t ask her to dance in 10th grade.

It’s why you can’t lift your hands and spin around during worship.

It’s why you still can’t jump into what God has for you.

The future is the capacity of the unknown and we fill that capacity with the worst. that will happen. It seems we have a common saying in America: “Hope for the best, Prepare for the worst.”

Wow. Perhaps that saying might holds some weight but not near enough to live life by. And that’s not much of a hope if you’re always planning for the worst.

So what do you do? How do you eradicate the fear? I’m not sure; I haven’t arrived there yet, but I do know two things: One you cannot just let the fear have his way. The battle with fear is much like playing chess; It doesn’t matter how many of the opposing player’s rooks, bishops, and knights you have, the object of the game is to get you in check mate.

To get to your king and not just take the king but trap him in a corner.

Squeeze him until he can’t move and there’s nowhere else to run.

Much like chess fear’s game is the same. If it wins in keeping you from jumping off the rock it doesn’t relent out of satisfaction. Fear can’t be satisfied. It will chase you to the next point of advancing in life and the next point to eventually where you don’t feel safe even breathing. Then he has you in check mate.

The other thing you can’t do is fight it. It doesn’t relent and it doesn’t tire out. Like I said before it’s very faithful at being on time and is never late. And it’s like quick sand; the more you struggle with it, the more you fight, the quicker you sink.

So what do you do with it? I don’t know.

If Satan’s most useful tool is our creation how do with destroy it?

There Are No Experts in the Kingdom of God

Sheep are dumb. It is amazing sometimes what they will do to display their stupidity. They wander off a lot, change directions, get into trouble often thinking they know the way and decide to go regardless of where the shepherd is leading them. Perhaps some of them have been in the pack long enough to memorize the paths to certain places and the get familiar with the landscape. Perhaps some have been appointed by the shepherd to help the lead the pack as a whole in following him. The problem arises when the sheep start to think they’ve graduated to being the shepherd; That they don’t need the one whose been leading them they’re whole life anymore. That’s when sheep start to head places they were never meant to go. They get into trouble. They think by being appointed they can go ahead of the shepherd and lead him perhaps.
The amazing thing is the shepherd is so gentle every time with the arrogant, mindless sheep. Instead of leaving the sheep to die, or killing it himself, or punishing or rebuking it he cradles it with his staff, back to where he is. He ever so gently pulls them back in, in complete patience and steadiness. Not mad or angry but loving and fatherly. They’re his sheep that belong to him.
There are no experts in this kingdom of God except Christ Jesus the shepherd. We are all students of the king teacher, sheep of the shepherd, children of the beloved father who loves us dearly. Their is no graduation, no test to pass, no profit to gain except Christ now, whom we already have. So why try; why strive to be the best worship leader, pastor, christian, wise man. Why compete? What is there to really profit? Money? Fame? Girls? No. Just Jesus whom we’ve already gained by HIS work.

Adoption

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea that we who were once wretched sinners and blasphemers are now, because the blood of Jesus are fully, adopted in sons and daughters of God. Romans 8: 12 – 17;

12Therefore, brothers, we have an obligation—but it is not to the sinful nature, to live according to it. 13For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, 14because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. 15For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship.[g] And by him we cry, “Abba,[h] Father.” 16The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. 17Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.
What an incredibly impossible, yet utterly obtainable level intimacy. How shocking is it that we are deemed sons not because of what we’re offering, not because of who we are but because the spirit we received from Christ Himself. I guess a question could be is it shocking to you? Is that an extraordinary thought or easily comprehendible to you? Is it really amazing grace or just and end to the story? Since God wants to forget our sin (Hebrews 10) I don’t think He’s an advocate of reminding us of it. However I think the key every single day is to not remember the height from which we’ve fallen, but the depth of which He came to get us.

I think the catalyst of this idea is relentless love of the Father, regardless of our love for Him.

Life and Death: Anticipation

Ever since I’ve been in the season that I’m in my goal from day to day has been one thing. To wake up and try as hard as I can to avoid the pains of that particular day by any means necessary and make it as best as I can until I go to sleep. Then I wake up again only to continue this vicious cycle on what is slowly becoming an endless, insane journey to absolutely nowhere except the next foot step. There is no end goal; my eyes are not forward but instead staring at the ground looking for the next place to put my foot. For some reason I never look up. I don’t no why. Perhaps its fear or lack of trust in the ground. As if I should take my eyes off of it, it will fail me. As if I don’t trust the very ground that holds me up and hasn’t failed me yet, to hold me as soon as I take my eyes off it. Now I will certainly be the first to declare that this is not a good way to live life at all but I’m a slow learner of my own words. I’m stubborn. There I said it.
I’m living my life in simple avoidance of pain and death. As I admit that this lifestyle is and awful way to live, I don’t think it’s such an odd paradigm in comparison to the rest of the world.
There’s something I’ve been pondering in my mind these past few days and I think this notion holds some weight to it. It seems that we as human beings are consumed with one thing that can manifest in two different ways. I think that for the majority of people our goal is to simply stay alive.

Preserve life.

To keep breathing.

And our attempt to accomplish that goal comes in the form of either avoiding death or enhancing the life we already have.
Think about it, we eat to stay alive and some of us eat healthy to extend our lifespan. Those people who work in the restaurants we eat at work to make their LIVING. To pay their bills to keep their shelters and feed those whom they love. Some of us take pills or pay thousands of dollars to avoid what is inevitable to come to everyone who is born. What is it about death that scares us so much? Maybe it’s because life is all we’ve ever known. And death is so mysterious and unknown.
There’s this game at my friend Chris’s house where you have four metal, hand-held buttons and when the buzzer goes off you have to be the first person to push your button or you get an very uncomfortable shock to your hand. I hate that game. It frightens me. But I think the worst part of the game is the anticipation of the forthcoming torment to be sent to the nerves in my hand. That grips me worse than the actual pain.
I think the same is true of death. That the anticipation of it is far worse than the actual occurrence. “ So many of us tip toe through life to arrive at death safely.”

Restless Vacation

So we learned some interesting things down in St. Simons this week.

1. SPF30 Sun Screen requires that you reapply it after 30 minutes; not 3 hours.
2. You can still get sunburned after already being sunburned.
3. There are a lot of women who wear bikinis who probably shouldn’t ever wear bikinis in public.
4. Don’t play board games with Chris Hunt because he always manages to win. (this is also true when playing with Nathan Heffington and on rare occasion Rachel Slade)
5. No matter how fortified it’s walls are or majestic it’s towers look, a sand castle will always be annihilated from existence by the inevitable, unrelenting tide.
6. Savannah is boring.
7. There are no ghosts on the Savannah Ghost Tour and it’s a lot more hilarious than it is scary not to mention it’s a complete rip off.
8. It’s completely appropriate to pee your pants in the ocean as long as the water level isn’t below your swimsuit.

We also learned some other things but the most important is what I’d like to point out and talk about and it’s this: That you can totally be on vacation and get absolutely no rest at all and in fact return more tired than you were when you left.
For instance, the second day down in St. Simons we thought it would be fun to rent bikes to ride around the island for the day. This was fun for maybe the first couple of hours but at the end of the day we had cycled approximately 20 miles back and forth on an island that stretched no longer than 7 miles. The following day we took an hour drive to Savannah to see the town and ride the ghost tour. The town was beautiful but before we realized it we had walked around the town about 4 miles and yes our legs were killing us. Needless to say the ghost tour was stupid. The last day we drove and hour and a half to Atlantic City beach only to enjoy the lush water and substantial waves for 45 minutes before being rained out and driving another hour and a half back to our marsh encompassed sabbatical.
My point is this; it seems that so often when as people, as americans, plan a vacation we worry so much about filling it with enough stuff to do so that we wouldn’t be bored that we forget the entire purpose, the entire reason for embarking on it in the first place.
To get away from society and work; to quiet our minds and not have to worry about “we have to be here by this time or else!” We have to remember that the capacity we call being bored doesn’t shouldn’t exist when your on vacation; or at least it isn’t called bored but called rest. Why do you have to have something to do all the time? Isn’t that the point of vacation, to not?
Incontrovertibly my conclusion is the we as people must learn how to rest and some of us need to begin by understanding that it is a learned behavior and simply second nature (i.e. I’m talking about myself).