Sunday, July 31, 2005
The emptiness of life. Everyone is searching for a fulfilling lifestyle; they want to know if what they are doing is making a difference -- if it really matters.There are times when I question the move to New York. The reasons against it are endless, so far away from family, limited peer interaction, the "Christian" atmosphere is weaker, the Yankees, missing out on friend's weddings... you name it, there are plenty of concerns that take a toll on being 28 hours from "home".
Even more than that, why? Why did I move here? What if it doesn't work? What if I pour all this energy and time into a boy only to watch him fall once again? Even worse, what if he never gets it?
But then there are moments in the middle of the wilderness in the pouring rain, pointing at a map with a wiffle bat, watching individuals become a team. Sitting in a church service with a mother and her disrespectful son, seeing the boys you mentor doing a little mentoring of their own. Sweating in the middle of a hayfield knowing that the young man by your side who at one time never broke a sweat will be there until every bale is gone. Or wading in a lake to help a guy land his first fish. Waiting, acting, loving, hoping, learning, watching... watching boys become men.
And it's at these moments when all the "why's" and "how's" fly out the window, and you sit back only to watch and learn. Because the Living God is acting, waiting, loving, hoping, teaching and watching... watching his children grow. So yes, you can have questions about the purpose of your life, whether or not it makes a difference, if what you're doing really matters, but know this: the fullness of life comes not from the moments when you witnessed God working, but the moments when you participated in His work. The Omniscient Father has work going everywhere -- anywhere -- wherever you are. My prayer for you is not that you will witness God work, or ask him to bless what you're doing, but rather, ask to help Him in whatever He's doing. That's the fullness of life.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
It's hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night! That's right folks, it's summer here in NY and believe it or not it gets hot here too. I don't remember it being this humid here last summer, but I can't walk outside without condensing. You heard it -- not sweat. Sweat? No, that would mean that I would have done something that would require my body to perspire. I don't think so, Scooter, because before I can do anything that would even warrant an ounce of sweat, my body is covered with moisture, and I feel there is no other explanation other than condensation. It's like walking through a sprinkler up here.
That having been said, let me catch you up on the last couple of weeks with my boys. Lots of exciting stuff has been happening here. I've been waking up at 5:30 in the morning to work out at the local high school with my boys, and I don't think my poor body can take it. The boys can work out in the morning, spend the first half of the day working hard here on campus, and then choose to spend the rest of the afternoon working out! Not gonna do it, wouldn't be prudent at this juncture.
We went to see Batman Begins last night, riding the entire way in the Mattmobile, which is really just a 15 passenger van with the seat tipped back, my hat cocked slightly to the side, one wrist casually resting on the steering wheel, with the classical music station blaring as loud as the speakers will go while yelling at "shorties" out the window. This usually lasts 7 to 8 minutes, which is usually the point where they are all too embarrassed to even place their heads above the window level, and then it just looks like I'm all alone looking stupid in a big van -- and we can't have that.
For the next 20 minutes to the movie theater we play the wave game, which is much more interesting in New York than in the South. The purpose of the game being who can get the most people to wave back at them, and may I say that it is much more challenging here, and because of that simple fact, much more fun. The best part about it is that here people need to figure out if they are supposed to wave back at you. If they can figure it out in time, which is difficult when you are traveling at excessive speeds, they usually have furrowed eyebrows and an intense questioning face as they passively wave back to you as you fly by. Truth be told I usually win, as I have a concrete hold on the migrant farm worker demographic which requires only a sing song face and an excited wave to warrant a response.
We get back from the movie and go directly to the woods to camp out around a campfire at the log cabin. While there we are reflecting on the movie, talking about what we liked and didn't like, what we learned, etc. (you know, all the "ministry stuff" bla bla bla). After an intense discussion regarding our dislike for the way Christian Bale's voice while Batman sounded like a chainsmoker trying to act tough, we shifted to embarrassing moments in light of the excursion in the Mattmobile. So, for your reading pleasure, and for my personal humility, I will share with you the same story that I shared with them.
In my collegiate days there was a young lady that I would occasionally see around campus and always found very intriguing. Our paths would rarely cross, and we never spoke to each other. I never thought that much about it until my second senior year and some friends and I were reflecting on the years spent at ACU. I thought back to Josh Tardy and his comments on the things that he regrets not doing while here. One of which was to ask a particular young lady out, I won't say her name, but it rhymes with Peth Bender. That led us to a conversation about who we would regret not asking out, and much to my chagrin, everyone in the conversation was already dating someone very seriously and thus had no regrets. That left only me.
Not knowing the end of the this story, I told some of my closest friends who that would be, and Brandon Booker forces me into a commitment that the next time I see this girl (we will call her Jennifer Garner, to fulfill both my dreams and the restraining order) I would have to ask her out. Lo and behold, within the week I was in the library, a small miracle in and of itself, and there she was sitting at what should have been the busiest table there, all alone. It was the perfect situation, there was no excuse that could get me out of this one -- I made the commitment, I had to do it. I knew that if I didn't just go up there and spit it out it would never come, so building on the suspense and pressure I walked right up to her and said, "Excuse me Jennifer, we haven't met, my name's Matt and I was..." Immediately, with that same confused look as New Yorkers forced in to playing the wave game, she interrupts me, "Your name's Matt? Is it really? I thought it was Casey."
At this exact moment time stood still, the library came to a complete stop, exegesis students stopped rifling through their lexicon, sophomore boys playing online poker in the computer lab ripped their attention away from a full house, everyone stopped to see just how this poor soul was going to recover from such a setback. And in this timeless moment, all my options began to race through my head; The little devil of rationality on my shoulder screaming "Abort, Abort, just run, there's no way to rebound from this." On the other end, my angel of creativity dressed in a white suit, a pink tee, and blue suede shoes, whispers, "Remember the old Philosopher Buck Owens who once said, 'I got the hungries for you love and I'm waiting in your welfare line." After an eternity of looking back and forth listening to the two argue, with an equally confused look on my face, the silence broke as they agreed, screaming "Say something, say anything!"
Instantly the earth began to spin again, the silence broke and there I was again with nothing to say. After fighting back the thoughts which wondered if indeed I looked more like a Casey, I found her still sitting, and still confused. And so in all my creativity I broke the silence with, "Uh-uh-um, No. (still looking side to side for a little help) It's Matt." Having now abandoned all hope for creativity, I left it lying cold on the floor and forged on, knowing that if I didn't say it now it would never come out. "As I was saying, I was just wondering if you wanted to have lunch sometime." And with all the sensitivity of a stomach pump she rightfully answered, "Wow, hmmm, that was awkward."
And The End, well I'll just leave that for me.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Opening lines are always the hardest. I would love to think that everytime I could come up with something creative, some life-shattering hilarious joke that makes you say, "After I change my pants, remind me to check this thing out more often..." but let's face it, in all my allure and humility even I'm not that creative.
In an effort to squelch the nagging frustration of my lack of creativity, I offer you the top 10 lessons I have learned while here in NY:
10. It is easier to shave a running bear than to get a New York State Driver's License. Hell could freeze over, and they would only give me a provisional license.
9. Ignorance is not limited to south of the Mason Dixon Line, it's alive and well here. I have several young men who refuse to eat eggs because they just discovered that they come out of the chicken's butt... they thought the super market made them in the back of the store.
8. I'm going to miss NY pizza whenever I go.
7. A fellow Southern friend was pulled over by a cop because "he didn't love his dog." Apparently people can ride in the bed of trucks, nobody cares, but dogs -- no this has got to stop.
6. Sarcasm is the language of love.
5. You can sell puppies here with no papers for $350, and people will buy them just because they're cute!
4. Riverhead NY has the world's worst Wal Mart. Today I considered giving Target my business (you don't know how hard it was for me to say that -- also let the record state I only "considered")
3. Digression is one of my greatest gifts; note the many parenthetical and disruptive statements both currently included and remaining to be written. There has yet to be a church service here that has not, at some point, experienced some random movie quote mostly revolving around the Monty Python/Jim Carrey genre. I believe that Digression is my ministry.
2. Accents are addictive, everybody has one, and I end up copying them all. Between my time in NY, Mass., Maine and the rest of the New England area, I have concocted a strange mixture of everything, which ends up sounding like a drunk Aussie trying to use Ebonics in Creole.
1. I'm cheap and haircuts are $25.
So there you have it, life's most precious lessons of the past six months.
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