Ghost Stories

One weekend when I was nine, my dad and I went on a father-son campout with our church. I wanted so desperately to be known as the forest survivor / Bear Grylls / leg-gets-ripped-open-but-I-don’t-even-notice-because-I’m-so-tough kid among all my friends.

After all, they’d show up to activities with ripped jeans, stitches, and/or broken bones coupled with some heroic tale of something adventurous they had experienced and lived to tell the rest of us about.

This camping trip was my chance to show them all.

I was a tough guy.

(Even though I’d never broken a bone or had stitches, and every time my jeans got a hole in the knee, my mother would either toss them out or cut them off and make jorts – jean shorts.)

After a day of nothing really exciting except exploring some trails, roasting hot dogs, and seeing who had the most utilities on their Swiss Army Knife, we all headed to the mess hall to watch a movie.

To my horror, they were showing Journey to the Center of the Earth, starring…Pat Boone. Yes…the film made in 1959.

That night, I didn’t sleep at all. Not even a little. I think I woke my dad up at least ten times. Every time I closed my eyes, there was a creature trying to eat me. It didn’t matter that the movie wasn’t believable, the had some of the worst special effects of all time, all that mattered was it had found a way to disrupt everything.

That was the night I realized just how powerful fear was.

Recently, my nine and seven year old sons watched some YouTube videos with some friends about ghost stories. When I realized what was happening, I shut down the operation because I knew bedtime was fast approaching.

Sure enough, even though they have bunk beds in the same room, fear moved in with them. All evening they had tried to convince us the videos were just stupid…all evening they tried to convince us they were brave and it didn’t affect them.

But it did.

In the gospels, in more than a dozen scenarios, Jesus (or his surrogates) remind people they don’t have anything to be afraid of. Even when there’s a giant storm…even when we think everything is over…even when people don’t like us…even when something terrible might happen…

…Even when all we’ve really heard are ghost stories that aren’t actually real.

Because most fear comes from our imagination. We fear hypotheticals (or mental hearsay) far more often than we experience actual moments of terror.

The goal of fear is to keep us from being who we’ve designed to be.

I have a friend who wouldn’t speak or sing outloud for years because when she was a young girl, someone told her they didn’t like her voice. (Finally, she realized how ridiculous that was and found her voice again.)

Fear silences us.

Fear keeps the door locked and the shades drawn.

Fear stereotypes.

Fear tells us our dreams are worthless.

Fear says we should never try that again.

Fear is often louder in our head than truth.

Fear is the abusive lover we just can’t break up with.

Fear hates hope.

Fear is the opposite of love.

Every day we’re faced with the question of whether or not we will listen to fear say the same thing it always says (You can’t/shouldn’t do/be/try this), or take the leap.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that in the process of finally taking the leap, you discover fear was lying to you the whole time. Fear doesn’t have anything invested in the possibility that you might succeed, but it’s bought a majority stake in the probability that you might fail.

Sometimes, the fastest way to beat fear…is to jump.

—–

What are you afraid of you in your life right now?

What has fear kept you from in the past?

“But Catholics aren’t Christians!”

I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

I was seventeen.

I was Baptist (because this happened a long time ago).

I was dating a Catholic named Cecilia.

She had brought me to some kind of strange, special event at her Parish called “Adoration”. It’s a service where the bread of communion, also known as the Body of Christ, is placed in a receptacle or monstrance on the altar, and for an hour, people pray, worship or simply enjoy the presence of God. (There are other facets to this service, but I’m just sharing a simple overview.)

In the quiet, I looked around at all the different people spread out through the sanctuary of Holy Family Catholic Church. It was quite apparent how out of place I was…here I was, a Southern Baptist preacher’s kid, having been told by so many through the years that Catholics weren’t Christians. (Not my family, but plenty of people nonetheless.)

I could hear the kneelers squeak as they were pulled from underneath the wooden pews. Whispered prayers seemed to ricochet off the stone walls all around us as the sun streaked through the stained glass and illuminated the floating dust particles, that for a moment seemed more like pixie dust.

So…we just sit here and enjoy God’s presence? That’s so…weird. 

But, still, there was something mysteriously renewing in the peace of that moment.

Not mystical…mysterious.

Alive.

Joyful.

There wasn’t anything to fight or argue about, there was no room for selfishness, because our eyes and hearts were simply on Jesus. And he met us there.

Not long after, I invited Cecilia to attend a worship service with me at my church. As fate would have it…that turned out to be a total disaster. Of course the very Sunday I bring her with me, the pastor preached on everything wrong with Catholics.

She was devastated. I was dumbfounded. 

What was the point of that? How did that help anything? Did he get a high five from the Holy Spirit when he was finished for exposing how the Catholics got it wrong and how the Baptists got it right?

All I know is, at the end of the day, it felt like the rift in the Church was a little bigger and deeper.

Like the Church was cutting herself to try and stop the pain.

Now…I don’t share these two experiences to create a war between different denominations. (God knows there are already MORE than enough of those.)

What I’d like to do instead is remind you…believer…follower of Jesus…that our God is not small.

He’s bigger than flawed theology (which every single one of us believes).

He’s bigger than poor attempts at calling another group of Christians out.

He’s bigger than my misunderstanding of why things happen the way they do.

He’s bigger than the Bible…and how often we wrongly use it to wound rather than heal. (Funny how often we view the Scriptures as a double edged sword that’s only for OTHER people…not for us.)

We act as if Christians interpreting his words and traditions differently over a period of 2,000 plus years took God by surprise.

It didn’t.

In fact, division and dissension were two of the sins we’re all neck deep in that nailed him to the cross. 

Which means division and dissension were also two sins he defeated along with death through the resurrection.

When we make generalizations such as “But Catholics aren’t Christians!” (this is just one of hundreds I’ve heard or said), we remake God into our own image.

We make God small.

I’ll be the first to admit that over the years I’ve made God small on many occasions. Yet, he continues being God despite my best efforts to dethrone him. He continues to rescue…he continues to repair…he continues to make all things new…because he’s not hindered by my struggles with doubt, frustration, and ignorance.

As the poet Shepherd-King David wrote in the 23rd Psalm…God “restores my soul.”

I want my life to be like a constant Adoration service.

Even when the kneelers squeak…even when there’s dust all over the place…all Jesus asks is that I enjoy his presence.

And he will take care of the rest. (And we could all use more rest.)

—–

“But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.” // 1 Corinthians 1.27-29

—–

Do you take time to enjoy the presence of God?

Do you find that helps you stop worrying so much about what someone else my get wrong?

Have you been on the giving or receiving end of generalizations from others because of how you believe?

 

And now for something completely different! (Don’t miss this!)

Last night I told my wife I wanted to get back to my habit of low carb / low sugar eating, and then I began interacting with several people on Twitter and Facebook, and we all decided we’d like to form a group for better health. We figured we could help hold each other accountable in 3 areas:

• Food // what we eat, how much, how often, recipes, etc…
• Weight // lose, gain, maintain…
• Lifestyle // exercise, tips, ideas to try out…

We’re hoping to establish an informal group of all types of people to help with encouragement, accountability, and really just to bring joy and community to the world of healthy living.

Our family made some MAJOR dietary changes about 18 months ago and the results have been amazing.

Initially, I lost about 30 pounds, but have since put back on about 10, mostly because I’ve gotten lazy about sticking to the plan. I think this group will be a great way for all of us to keep up with a healthier lifestyle, while at the same time making some new friends, and discovering fun new ways to live better.

So…I’d like to extend an invitation to any of you who’d also like to join the group! All you have to do is click the link below, and we’ll add you in!

None of us are professionals, we’re just people who want to eat better so we can live better.

This group is open to anyone from anywhere – even if you live outside the United States!

Click here: Gluten-ous

Can’t wait to meet you! Let’s live better together!

-Matt

I snuck out to see the worst movie ever…

Remember back in high school / secondary school when you were convinced you had been gifted with flawless, untouchable intellect, and your parents were simply there to cheer you on in all your successful endeavors?

Disaster.

So, I had planned with some friends to sneak out and go see a new movie we’d been waiting to see for months. Opening night arrived, and we pulled it off. So much anticipation, we just knew it was going to be the greatest movie of all time.

It was terrible.

We’d made so many coordinated, late-night phone calls in the corner of the back yard (or as far as the cordless phone could reach) to scheme about how we’d pull of our movie adventure. Suddenly it all seemed so stupid.

What was the movie, you ask?

City of Angels…starring…wait for it…Nicholas Cage. 

Seriously? Who the heck sneaks out to see a NICHOLAS CAGE flick? Worst. Idea.Ever. (My apologies if you absolutely adore Nick Cage…but if you do, PLEASE help me understand why.)

The most awkward part was, all my friends loved the movie, and my flawless 17-year intellect (i.e., peer pressure) told me I should pretend I loved it too. No sense in making the tribe angry. When I arrived home later that night, I climbed in my bed of shame and fell asleep. What’s worse is, that wasn’t the last time I invested lots of time and energy to do something that in the end wasn’t worth it.

In fact, to this day, from time to time I’ll still make stupid decisions, or invest time in activities that are pretty much a waste. And now, my kids are beginning to discover that they’ve been born with a magically perfect mind as well. It’s the circle of life.

I equate it to that moment at Chuck E. Cheese when you’ve spent hours playing ski ball, collected dozens of tickets (I was never very good at ski ball), and then realize all the prizes in the glass case you worked so hard to earn…are stupid and cheap.

But, all these moments I are stories that now begin, “Hey, remember that time when…”

Of course you’d never do that same thing again, but the failure didn’t destroy you. At least not forever.

These events texturize our lives and remind us that it’s ok to risk the the possibility of failure. Because even in failure we learn who to trust, and how to do things differently next time.

Frederick Buechner says, “Life is grace. Sleep is forgiveness. The night absolves. Darkness wipes the slate clean, not spotless to be sure, but clean enough for another day’s chalking.”

Not everything we chalk on the board of our lives will end up being a brilliant equation, but that’s why we can erase it and try again. In the background you might still see some of the old idea peeking through, but over top you have the opportunity to write a new one.

Some failures take longer to erase, and might even be painful to repair…but stick it out. Don’t quit. Don’t be so busy envying the joyful moments of others that you miss out on your own.

Revisit your failure every once in a while and see what you can learn. It might just change everything.

—–

“But [God] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” // 2 Corinthians 12.9-10

—–

How do you deal with failure?

Do you even give yourself a chance to fail?

If you don’t like it…there’s the door

For the past four years, I’ve been working in the humanitarian non-profit world.

Before doing what I do now, I worked in leadership/pastoral roles for several churches of various sizes and perspectives.

I still speak and write about theology frequently, but haven’t been in a pastoral role for some time.

And I’m not sure I could ever go back. Not because of the people (well, not entirely)…

…but because of me.

Because of how often my ego derailed relationships, ideas and opportunities. Because of how quickly I’d run over the legitimate needs of people because I just didn’t have time. Because of how easy it was to choose sides, or pitch the (unChristlike) “you’re either with us or against us” narrative.

I’ve been around clergy-types all of my life, and from an early age, I’d hear cracks like, “Well, if you don’t like the way we do things, I’ll open the yellow pages and help you find some other church to go and bother.” (For those of you who have no idea what “Yellow Pages” are, it’s an archaic book dropped off on your porch once a year that was filled with phone numbers.)

In essence: if you don’t like it here…there’s the door. Make sure it doesn’t smack your butt on the way out.

I’m sure there are plenty of versions of that line…I’ve even used a few myself.

It’s the age-old “Damn the dissenters” philosophy. Heaven forbid we entertain an opposing perspective.

I’ve seen many pastors surround (insulate?) themselves with enough loyalists, they never have to actually honestly engage someone who brings a legitimate question up for discussion. They might preach a sermon series on it, which allows them to say used veiled attacks against that make the question askers silly and make their perspective seem lofty, but RARELY will they open a forum for any back and forth.

How do I know this?

Because I’ve done it. Most of the time it’s really easy to recognize certain behaviors in others if you’ve participated in that same behavior yourself.

In the end, the Western church has fostered two destructive pandemics:

1. Pastors and leaders crusading to rid their congregations of boat rockers. (Or campaigning as victims because of boat-rocking.)

2. The vast majority of parishioners that “church hop” are doing so because of something stylistic. (We might make it sound theological, but only in rare cases does it amount to anything other than personal preference.)

We’ve come up with all sorts of categories, sub-categories, and theological territories to protect. Left, right, conversative, liberal, inerrant, infallible, Calvinist, Armenian, pre-trib, mid-trib, post-trib, amillinial, emergent, vintage, traditional…the list stretches on ad nauseum. This statement isn’t new or profound, but it also isn’t going away.

There are rifts. Everywhere.

We all scream that we are following Jesus the best…

The Jesus that rewrote the religious rules…

The Jesus that invited bitter political enemies to be co-disciples (Matthew the tax collector and Simon the Zealot)…

The Jesus that built a trusted relationship with a man he knew in the end was planning to betray him (Judas)…

The Jesus that broke bread with the despicable…spoke public forgiveness to the haters…and gave his life to rescue…us.

Sometimes I think there are so many rifts in the Church because we like playing king of the hill more than we desire to lift high the king on the hill. I’m not even sure Martin Luther was trying to break apart the Catholic Church nearly as much as he was simply trying to bring up some vital issues that desperately needed tending to.

But we love fighting battles and choosing sides. Peace isn’t nearly as interesting as war. What would we even talk about if there wasn’t some kind of battle to fight?

Right now there are reported to be 33,000+ Christian denominations in the world.

And every single one of them believe they’re either a little (or a lot) more correct than the rest.

It’s no wonder we can boldly tell people that if they can either shut up and choke down our brand of Jesus, or go find their own brand somewhere else.

Jesus never showed anyone the door out…instead he was constantly reminding them that he was the door in.

I can’t help but think he encouraged us to have child-like faith because he knew how cranky kids could be, how many questions they asked, and how much life and curiosity they bring to a community.

Somehow, when a blogger writes a critical post about a particular leader, or a church member brings a complaint or concern, it’s shunned and the pastor receives some kind of badge of courage for ignoring the issue or making some crack at the messenger. (Again, I know this is true because I’ve done it…and I see it done constantly.)

Repairing the rift among believers weighs quite heavily on me much of the time.

I’m not quite sure exactly how we piece back together all the shards of broken people of faith strewn about around us. But I do know St. Paul said there wasn’t one part of the body who could label another part unnecessary…and sometimes the weakest, most unsightly parts end up being the most important.

Perhaps healing begins with listening. 

We shouldn’t be surprised if a lot of anger comes out first, but once people know their hearts and voices are being heard, I believe the tone will begin to change.

That’s my hope.

These are my thoughts.

And if you don’t like them…please stick around and share yours…I bet we can help each other look more like Jesus.

—–

“Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back–in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.” // Frederich Buechner

—–

Have you noticed the rift in the church?

How do you think we begin to repair it?