I don't recommend my brother's writings a lot, but on certain occasions he actually puts a couple coherent thoughts together and says something useful. He wrote an article on hypocrisy (found here), and an article on motivations (found here).
shalom, matt
Recommendations
Wow...I...I Just...Wow...
If this doesn't make you sick then I don't know what will. They'll call it evangelism for the 21st century, or cultural relevancy, or post-modern church work. Let us call it what it really is: a get rich quick scheme from the church that is an affront to everything that the kingdom stands for. One intelligent resident of the town actually said something vaguely Christian about the idea:
"As a Christian, I wouldn't want to do anything that would denigrate the idea of a cross."
What a novel thought! Not denigrate the cross? Why not? Doesn't Jesus want his church to be a witness to the world? We have t-shirts, jewelry, Bibles, shoes, shorts, coffee mugs, underwear, bracelets, and jock straps (give it time; it'll come around). Why not have a huge cell-phone tower on top of your church look like the cross? What better way to support both Jesus and free-market capitalism (and the Republican party)?
Here's another highlight from the article that says a lot about this church and the state of far too many churches:
Church officials tell CBS 2 HD that while they are taking into consideration whether their neighbors will approve of the 100-foot cell phone tower on the property, they are ultimately concerned about whether it's the right decision for the church, and the members who attend services here. They would not, however, disclose how much money they stand to make from the Verizon proposal.
Yes, let's concern ourselves with the church building and its loyal constituents. Screw the town! "Oh, we care what they think (sort of, but not really), but we want to do what's right for our church." Notice how they didn't disclose how much money they were going to make from Verizon. Convenient, eh? Anyway, I'm done griping. You probably have your own thoughts. I'd like to hear them. I'll leave you with one more genius quote from a council member for the town:
"There's a big difference between a man made structure such as this and natural vegetation such as trees."
Excuse me, Mr. Councilman, National Geographic called. They said to tell you, "Thanks for the tip."
"As a Christian, I wouldn't want to do anything that would denigrate the idea of a cross."
What a novel thought! Not denigrate the cross? Why not? Doesn't Jesus want his church to be a witness to the world? We have t-shirts, jewelry, Bibles, shoes, shorts, coffee mugs, underwear, bracelets, and jock straps (give it time; it'll come around). Why not have a huge cell-phone tower on top of your church look like the cross? What better way to support both Jesus and free-market capitalism (and the Republican party)?
Here's another highlight from the article that says a lot about this church and the state of far too many churches:
Church officials tell CBS 2 HD that while they are taking into consideration whether their neighbors will approve of the 100-foot cell phone tower on the property, they are ultimately concerned about whether it's the right decision for the church, and the members who attend services here. They would not, however, disclose how much money they stand to make from the Verizon proposal.
Yes, let's concern ourselves with the church building and its loyal constituents. Screw the town! "Oh, we care what they think (sort of, but not really), but we want to do what's right for our church." Notice how they didn't disclose how much money they were going to make from Verizon. Convenient, eh? Anyway, I'm done griping. You probably have your own thoughts. I'd like to hear them. I'll leave you with one more genius quote from a council member for the town:
"There's a big difference between a man made structure such as this and natural vegetation such as trees."
Excuse me, Mr. Councilman, National Geographic called. They said to tell you, "Thanks for the tip."
shalom, matt
Follow-up
Despite all evidence to the contrary I'm not about to kill myself. Just so you know. I know the last post was decidedly a downer, but for me it was more than that.
Writing for me is cathartic, even therapeutic. Sometimes, on my worst days, writing brings me out of the funk. On bad days my brain goes into overdrive (in scramble mode) and plays out worst case scenario after worst case scenario, thoughts rushing at me like so many wild animals, bent on feasting on my insides, outsides and upside-downs. Writing serves as a cage, as the animal control officer in my life, so to speak. Writing is my way of capturing those thoughts, caging them on paper, and taming them so that I can go about my day in some sense of normalcy. Living in a funk is never fun, so writing serves as my means of coming out of it.
There is a second reason I write: I know that I'm not alone in my feelings. If me sharing my struggles with my online community (whomever you may be) helps someone understand what they are experiencing in their life then I'll keep doing it. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've read something that perfectly explained and gave language to what I was going through at that time. It was invaluable to me and I want what I write to serve the same purpose for others.
So, long story short, take everything I write with a grain of salt and don't read too much into it. I might just be having a bad day like you.
shalom, matt
A Lament of My Own
I understand Israel's wanderings in the wilderness. I understand them wondering what the Fu Man Chu is going on as they walked from one end of the Sinai to the other, going everywhere but getting nowhere. How futile they must have felt, as the wind blew gritty sand into teeth and hair; as the heat scorched bodies furiously and with no remorse; and the sounds of a million animals awaiting their turn as an offering to a capricious, invisible God. I know the desert well, I think.
That old saying, "When life hands you lemons make lemonade" is a load of the heaviest crap you can store in a WalMart bag. I've been dealt lemons. I've made lemonade. The problem is that someone always seems to pee in my pitcher. Yeah, I'm feeling a little sorry for myself right now, because I'm tired. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of holding on in faith, trying to persevere, or whatever. But here's reality for you: I have no visible direction right now; I am unable to support my family as a salesman; I am missing out on my son growing up because I work 12-hour days; I have nothing to show for those 12-hour days, have lost all hope of being any good at this sales thing, and frankly, I'm pissed because God seems to be on vacation in Tahiti sipping Margaritas on the beach while I flounder around and battle depression.
I feel like I'm stuck in a time warp, caught between my past reality (i.e., ministry) and my future reality (i.e., more ministry), unable to live in the present moment as I mourn the past and my unrealized future. I seem to be on day two of a forty year wandering journey into a very nasty place. And I'm already tired. My feet hurt.
I understand why the Israelites wanted to go back to Egypt: slavery is at least a known quantity, something tangible and measurable, something in the present moment before you; wandering never has a definite sum until you've reached the end of the journey and you can look back and see how it all played out. Wandering is stoically stuck in the future moments ahead of you. You only find out 2+2=4 when you reach the end and someone points out the obvious. In Egypt, 2+2 may have equaled 5, but you at least knew you had an answer.
In the book of Lamentations the writer describes the destruction of Jerusalem.. And he mourns. He mourns the death of his reality. But here is the rub: he finds hope still, clings to it in the midst of his lament. I can't get there. I can't get to hope, or, at least, not in a permanent way. I can't get past the mourning. I want to. I do. But when you watch your love, your passion, your ministry get ripped out from under you by politics and agendas, well, it hurts. Bad. And You don't quickly recover from it.
So that's where I am. I still believe in God. I don't know what to believe, but I believe in something, or rather, in Someone. But I've still got sand in my hair, it isn't getting any cooler out here, and my feet hurt.
shalom, matt
I Don't Know
Ever wonder if God really knows what he is doing? I don't mean that blasphemously, but this week has thrown that question to the forefront of my mind. I can't see what he's doing right now with me, why I'm struggling financially in a job that has great possibility for good money. And this is not about getting rich; it's about simply paying my bills. Right now, I'm not even doing that. I'm fighting it. Badly. Depression is starting to rear its seven heads of dark hell and gnaw at my resolve to hang on.
So...
Okay, God, I'm really trying to hang on here, but it's a struggle. I'm struggling into the deepest part of my soul. I'm frustrated because I'm in a job that requires a personality opposite of mine. I'm frustrated because I'm in a job that is not my calling. I'm frustrated because, while I desperately want to go into ministry again, I have no desire to work in a church ever again. I'm frustrated because I'm working long hours and I have nothing to show for it, nothing to point to and say, "Look at what I earned." Mostly I'm frustrated because with all the people praying for me I don't really see much result from it. I don't know what I'm expecting out of it, but something other than what I'm getting. I can't keep on like this for much longer without completely falling apart. So, there you go. That's where I am. Now you know and everyone else reading this knows where I am. The ball is in your court.
shalom, matt
Love, Faith, and the Tension of Choosing Well, part 3
Let's see. What are my choices here?
b) Honestly deal with my customers, giving them the best price I am able to give them, thereby losing gross profit, but hanging on to my integrity and being able to look at myself in the mirror each morning without wanting to punch myself in the chest.
The choice seems obvious, right? And it is obvious.
There is always tension, isn't there? If there wasn't tension, I'm not sure anyone would ever choose wrongly. The tension comes in the fact that choice "a" looks pretty dang good sometimes, especially when you aren't selling as many cars as you would like to and you need to maximize what you make on each sale, because you don't know when you might sell another one.
Each day it gets a little harder to choose well. "A" starts to look pretty good. But each day of choosing "B" brings with it a new strength and resolve to choose well, to not give in to the desire for more. I can't explain the strength, though I know where it comes from. Here's the tie-in with faith: when you see the bank account dwindling down towards zero, and the car lot isn't swarming with people, and you've only sold one car in the last two weeks, you start to have an increasing desire to bend your will toward "A" and screw the consequences. But I have to keep trusting that if I remain faithful to choosing well that God will somehow pull my proverbial bacon out of the lion's den (yes, that's a huge mixed metaphor, but I like it) and I'll be able to pay for my house.
We live with tension as followers of Christ. We live to die and die so that we might live; we live lives of sacrifice in a world of selfishness; we find hope where none has existed before and faith when the flood waters rise and the wind beats against the house. And the rewards for choosing well are sometimes invisible, but they are for both now and forever.
And it is THAT that keeps me choosing well.
shalom, matt
We live with tension as followers of Christ. We live to die and die so that we might live; we live lives of sacrifice in a world of selfishness; we find hope where none has existed before and faith when the flood waters rise and the wind beats against the house. And the rewards for choosing well are sometimes invisible, but they are for both now and forever.
And it is THAT that keeps me choosing well.
shalom, matt
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