Saturday, January 28, 2006
Fear.
"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear."
--Mark Twain
I'll admit it, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of a lot of things. I'm afraid of frogs, yeah I said it. I can hold a fish or snake without a problem, but frogs terrify me. I'm afraid of getting shots and going to the dentist. I'm afraid of my next dental bill. I'm afraid of losing my keys and someone driving away with my truck. (I'm afraid I was only searching for a reason to show a picture of Sherebiah,
as handsome as he is). I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid that a masked man is waiting beneath my truck with a pair of tin snips ready to snap my Achilles tendon, not because of the pain, but because of the fact that it can't be fixed. I'm afraid of what people think of me. I'm afraid of giving something my all and it still not be enough. Even more than that I am afraid of not giving something my all and wondering what it would have been like if I did. I'm afraid of settling for anything. Yet most of all, I'm afraid of letting God down.
I attribute it to another fear of mine: wasting things. That's why I'm cheap and never throw anything away, there's always a use for something. I am surrounded by people who are neat and tidy, whose anthem for cleaning is, "When in doubt throw it out." I on the other hand will hold onto anything and everything in the odd chance that it might be used again. I kept a leaf engraved with my dog's name for a good three months until it rotted and crumpled into nothing, all because a little girl from the neighborhood gave it to me after my puppy was born. I collect tacks, paperclips, blank paper, rubber bands, and any pen in the odd chance that it might find use again somewhere down the line. I have to eat all the food on my plate (within reason, meaning if I like it) and refuse to throw it away, even if it causes "discomfort" further down the road. There's always a use for something -- even me.
But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story.
The Voice of Truth says "Do not be afraid."
The Voice of Truth says "This is for My glory."
--Mark Twain
I'll admit it, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of a lot of things. I'm afraid of frogs, yeah I said it. I can hold a fish or snake without a problem, but frogs terrify me. I'm afraid of getting shots and going to the dentist. I'm afraid of my next dental bill. I'm afraid of losing my keys and someone driving away with my truck. (I'm afraid I was only searching for a reason to show a picture of Sherebiah,
as handsome as he is). I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid that a masked man is waiting beneath my truck with a pair of tin snips ready to snap my Achilles tendon, not because of the pain, but because of the fact that it can't be fixed. I'm afraid of what people think of me. I'm afraid of giving something my all and it still not be enough. Even more than that I am afraid of not giving something my all and wondering what it would have been like if I did. I'm afraid of settling for anything. Yet most of all, I'm afraid of letting God down.I attribute it to another fear of mine: wasting things. That's why I'm cheap and never throw anything away, there's always a use for something. I am surrounded by people who are neat and tidy, whose anthem for cleaning is, "When in doubt throw it out." I on the other hand will hold onto anything and everything in the odd chance that it might be used again. I kept a leaf engraved with my dog's name for a good three months until it rotted and crumpled into nothing, all because a little girl from the neighborhood gave it to me after my puppy was born. I collect tacks, paperclips, blank paper, rubber bands, and any pen in the odd chance that it might find use again somewhere down the line. I have to eat all the food on my plate (within reason, meaning if I like it) and refuse to throw it away, even if it causes "discomfort" further down the road. There's always a use for something -- even me.
But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story.
The Voice of Truth says "Do not be afraid."
The Voice of Truth says "This is for My glory."
Out of all the voices calling out to me,
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth.
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth.
-- Casting Crowns
I love that song, it speaks to me, it inspires me, but it doesn't describe me. I love the artistry with which they describe the "other voices" that remind us how we've failed; the giants of this world who spit in our faces and remind us we're nothing but little boys with a sling, the waves that keep us from stepping out and following Jesus. Genius, poignant genius; but it doesn't describe me. Yes the waves and the giants get to me, but they're not my greatest fear.
Marianne Williamson wrote: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others"
I'm afraid of letting God down, not in my mistakes along the way, though they are inevitable, not in His disappointment, though it is uncomfortable, and not the consequences as they are unavoidable. Rather, my fear is myself; not who I wouldn't be, the burier of my talent, but who I could be, the owner of ten talents -- the good and faithful servant (Matt. 25).
There will be moments when I am concerned about how the world perceives me, when the giants, frogs and waves of this world beat me down, and I will be afraid. There will be occasions when the Devil waits beneath my truck armed with snips of deceit hoping to cut my life in two, and I will be afraid. I will no doubt have my own Moses incident, when scared of the height God has brought me I will take the staff of His talent and beat it against the Rock of his glory, taking the credit for myself. My mistakes may keep me from an earthly Promised Land, but like all that is said before, I will be afraid, but it won't be my greatest fear.
My greatest fear is that I never encounter these smaller fears, that I live a life so consumed with the avoidance of fear that I neglect to participate at all. So, I'll admit it, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of a lot of things, and in doing so conquer my greatest fear: A life without it.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Thank You
Many thanks to all who thought it possible that i wrote the Chuck Norris facts. I am honored that you would give me that kind of credit. I put a little disclaimer at the very bottom, but apparently it wasn't clear enough. I received it as an email, and have no idea who truly wrote it, but like CBlair I was the office idiot laughing uncontrollably. I put it on the old blog to get someone else to laugh at it, because none of the residents knew who Chuck Norris was, and I was feeling alone in my appreciation. I take that back, one kid knew him through the info-mercial that he did with Christy Brinkley. After I told him that he was almost 65 years old he responded with "65! D%#@, cuz is diesel!" True... true. Anyway, after 25 minutes of attempting to explain Chuck Norris (an impossible task to begin with) , I gave up and came to the computer.
Thank you Cody, for the shout out on your blog, unwarranted as it may be, and thanks to Daniel Carlson, for his exhaustive research which found even more true facts about Chuck Norris. Finally thank you Nathan Dahlstrom for sending the email that made my day.
I'll take these last few moments to pick on Nathan, a. because he is a good friend and mentor, and b. because I know he never reads this. In fact, when I sent out the email notifying everyone that I had a blog, his exact response was:
"That was great Matt. a site dedicated to you and the odd chance one of the 10 billion people you mailed it to are interested in an unpersonal tribute to yourself.
Just kidding, but no really.
Nah just kidding, but no really.
Nathan"
Nathan Dahlstrom was the man that got me started in this Boy's Ranch Industry, or more importantly the business of "making men". Long were the hours we spent around a campfire discussing guns, horses, ministry and everything in between. From baling hay to cooking bacon, catching fish to roping calves, boys learned. They learned new skills, new hobbies, new escapes, new identities, and a new definition of masculinity. A man, defined not by what he did, but what he could do; a man after God's own heart, and that man for us was Nathan Dahlstrom. I always knew that ministry existed beyond the official title, but it was never more truly personified than through him. Together we would watch as God worked on the hearts of His "boys" at the Ranch, molding and shaping them into His own, into more than boys... into men. And it is because of his investment in not only the boys, but in me, that I have found an industry, an occupation, a "business" that I love and hold dear, a front row seat into God's business, the business of making men.
It's been a while since Nathan has been on this Ranch, but he's still in the business. As we speak he's listening to the calling of a gracious God who desires for His "lost boys" to become men after His own heart, and Nathan is willing to be that sharpening tool. Whetstone Boy's Ranch, based on the Proverb, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another" (27:17) with God's help will accomplish just that, sharpened tools ready for the world ahead. Leaving not with the confusion and timidity of the boy who entered, but the strength and courage of the man he's become.
Currently he resides in Lubbock, with his heroic wife and precious daughters, 8 horses, lab and pet coon. If that's not a man after my own heart, I don't know who is. Thank you, Nate, for all that you've done and will continue to do.
www.whetstoneboysranch.org
*****************************
In true Cody Blair fashion I will conclude with a pic of the day:
Thank you Cody, for the shout out on your blog, unwarranted as it may be, and thanks to Daniel Carlson, for his exhaustive research which found even more true facts about Chuck Norris. Finally thank you Nathan Dahlstrom for sending the email that made my day.
I'll take these last few moments to pick on Nathan, a. because he is a good friend and mentor, and b. because I know he never reads this. In fact, when I sent out the email notifying everyone that I had a blog, his exact response was:
"That was great Matt. a site dedicated to you and the odd chance one of the 10 billion people you mailed it to are interested in an unpersonal tribute to yourself.
Just kidding, but no really.
Nah just kidding, but no really.
Nathan"
Nathan Dahlstrom was the man that got me started in this Boy's Ranch Industry, or more importantly the business of "making men". Long were the hours we spent around a campfire discussing guns, horses, ministry and everything in between. From baling hay to cooking bacon, catching fish to roping calves, boys learned. They learned new skills, new hobbies, new escapes, new identities, and a new definition of masculinity. A man, defined not by what he did, but what he could do; a man after God's own heart, and that man for us was Nathan Dahlstrom. I always knew that ministry existed beyond the official title, but it was never more truly personified than through him. Together we would watch as God worked on the hearts of His "boys" at the Ranch, molding and shaping them into His own, into more than boys... into men. And it is because of his investment in not only the boys, but in me, that I have found an industry, an occupation, a "business" that I love and hold dear, a front row seat into God's business, the business of making men.
It's been a while since Nathan has been on this Ranch, but he's still in the business. As we speak he's listening to the calling of a gracious God who desires for His "lost boys" to become men after His own heart, and Nathan is willing to be that sharpening tool. Whetstone Boy's Ranch, based on the Proverb, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another" (27:17) with God's help will accomplish just that, sharpened tools ready for the world ahead. Leaving not with the confusion and timidity of the boy who entered, but the strength and courage of the man he's become.
Currently he resides in Lubbock, with his heroic wife and precious daughters, 8 horses, lab and pet coon. If that's not a man after my own heart, I don't know who is. Thank you, Nate, for all that you've done and will continue to do.
www.whetstoneboysranch.org
*****************************
In true Cody Blair fashion I will conclude with a pic of the day:
Here's Soren and Liv, two of the most entertainingly precious little girls you'll ever meet, Huck the lab and Lily the coon.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
"The Eyes of the Ranger are Upon You"
There comes a time in every man's life when he must acknowledge his heros, the people who have passed down the rights of manhood and masculinity, reaffirming your identity and squelching all insecurity. Now is not that time.
Last night, a resident here at the Ranch asked me "What is Truth?" After hours of endless modern/postmodern debating, this was the piece of truth that swayed him -- the TRUTH about Chuck Norris...
Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds till." After you ask, "Two seconds till what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.
Since 1940, the year Chuck Norris was born, roundhouse kick related deaths have increased 13,000 percent.
There are no disabled people. Only people who have met Chuck Norris.
There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.
It was once believed that Chuck Norris actually lost a fight to a pirate, but that is a lie, created by Chuck Norris himself to lure more pirates to him.
Those aren't credits that roll after Walker Texas Ranger; it is actually a list of people that Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked in the face that day.
If you unscramble the letters in "Chuck Norris" you get "Huck corn, sir." That is why every fall, Chuck travels to Nebraska and burns the entire state down.
Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked someone so hard that his foot broke the speed of light, went back in time, and killed Amelia Earhart while she was flying over the Pacific Ocean.
Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.
When Chuck Norris plays Oregon Trail his family does not die from cholera or dysentery, but rather roundhouse kicks to the face. He also requires no wagon, since he carries the oxen, axels, and buffalo meat on his back. He always makes it to Oregon before you.
Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.
Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.
A man once asked Chuck Norris if his real name is "Charles". Chuck Norris did not respond, he simply stared at him until he exploded.
Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris once shot a German plane down with his finger, by yelling, "Bang!"
After much debate, President Truman decided to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima rather than the alternative of sending Chuck Norris. His reasoning? It was more "humane".
Chuck Norris often asks people to pull his finger. When they do, he roundhouses them in the abdomen. Then he farts.
Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.
Aliens do exist. They're just waiting for Chuck Norris to die before they attack.
Chuck Norris appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick. When asked bout this "glitch," Norris replied, "That's no glitch."
The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
So there you have it folks, the truth. May it set you free.
**The previous information did not originate with Matt Foster; absolute truth finds it origin not with the one who communicates it, but with the creator himself. If in anyway this "piece" has "spoken to you" or have needed to change your pants and wipe your eyes, take the time to thank the real man, Mr. Chuck Norris. I am but a conduit of information... please, I don't want to end up as another credit at the end of Walker Texas Ranger.
Last night, a resident here at the Ranch asked me "What is Truth?" After hours of endless modern/postmodern debating, this was the piece of truth that swayed him -- the TRUTH about Chuck Norris...
Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds till." After you ask, "Two seconds till what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.Since 1940, the year Chuck Norris was born, roundhouse kick related deaths have increased 13,000 percent.
There are no disabled people. Only people who have met Chuck Norris.
There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.
It was once believed that Chuck Norris actually lost a fight to a pirate, but that is a lie, created by Chuck Norris himself to lure more pirates to him.
Those aren't credits that roll after Walker Texas Ranger; it is actually a list of people that Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked in the face that day.
If you unscramble the letters in "Chuck Norris" you get "Huck corn, sir." That is why every fall, Chuck travels to Nebraska and burns the entire state down.
Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked someone so hard that his foot broke the speed of light, went back in time, and killed Amelia Earhart while she was flying over the Pacific Ocean.
Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.
When Chuck Norris plays Oregon Trail his family does not die from cholera or dysentery, but rather roundhouse kicks to the face. He also requires no wagon, since he carries the oxen, axels, and buffalo meat on his back. He always makes it to Oregon before you.
Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.
A man once asked Chuck Norris if his real name is "Charles". Chuck Norris did not respond, he simply stared at him until he exploded.
Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris once shot a German plane down with his finger, by yelling, "Bang!"
After much debate, President Truman decided to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima rather than the alternative of sending Chuck Norris. His reasoning? It was more "humane".
Chuck Norris often asks people to pull his finger. When they do, he roundhouses them in the abdomen. Then he farts.
Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.
Aliens do exist. They're just waiting for Chuck Norris to die before they attack.
Chuck Norris appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick. When asked bout this "glitch," Norris replied, "That's no glitch."
The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
So there you have it folks, the truth. May it set you free.
**The previous information did not originate with Matt Foster; absolute truth finds it origin not with the one who communicates it, but with the creator himself. If in anyway this "piece" has "spoken to you" or have needed to change your pants and wipe your eyes, take the time to thank the real man, Mr. Chuck Norris. I am but a conduit of information... please, I don't want to end up as another credit at the end of Walker Texas Ranger.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Conspiracy Theory
I don't own a television. Ok, I do have one that sits at the foot of my bed, but the coaxial connection is busted, so even though, technically I do own a TV and the previous sentence is a lie, you get the picture. I live with 4 other people, we don't have cable. Once you eliminate cable, there's really no point in getting regular television, so we never even hooked up an antenna -- perhaps one of the best things we've done for ourselves. Basically, other than movies, NO TV!
Without a television you become numb to society, in fact the only news that I receive comes from Austin Henley's blog, which has now become my daily newspaper/sportscenter. I missed out on a lot of pressing news events, hurricanes, assassinations, political scandals and debates, you name it, if Austin didn't cover it I didn't know it happened, which is why this story came as the biggest shocker of all...
The famed Director of Youth Ministry and professor extrordinaire Robert Oglesby Jr. was arrested and now plays a secondary role in some reality show about breaking out of prison...
Seriously though, Prison Break, did that not freak anyone else out. A gay inmate killing people all the time, but looking exactly like the same man that taught me everything that I know about budgets, planning middle school retreats and becoming your secretary's best friend.
Without a television you become numb to society, in fact the only news that I receive comes from Austin Henley's blog, which has now become my daily newspaper/sportscenter. I missed out on a lot of pressing news events, hurricanes, assassinations, political scandals and debates, you name it, if Austin didn't cover it I didn't know it happened, which is why this story came as the biggest shocker of all...
The famed Director of Youth Ministry and professor extrordinaire Robert Oglesby Jr. was arrested and now plays a secondary role in some reality show about breaking out of prison...
Seriously though, Prison Break, did that not freak anyone else out. A gay inmate killing people all the time, but looking exactly like the same man that taught me everything that I know about budgets, planning middle school retreats and becoming your secretary's best friend.
If you got to watch the show Prison Break, then you know what I'm talking about. You also know how aggravated I was that they didn't break out this season, or that there wasn't an end to the show. I would have been fine if the whole thing ended with a bang that didn't go the way I wanted it to, but that's just it, it didn't go anywhere at all. No bang, it was absent of banging.
Which is why, if you're like me, you won't be going back to watch it again next year. Beyond the hours of counseling and deja vu that crippled my memory of Robert Oglesby, was the fact that FOX lied to me. You can't call a show "Prison Break" and never "break" -- you should've just called it "Prison" and given me the last 12 hours of my life back. Oh FOX, you'll miss me, you know you will, just ask Major League Baseball and Burger King.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Smiling's my favorite
There are certain activities or tasks that you perform for you employer that create a great sense of accomplishment and pride upon completion. Then there are activities or tasks which call into question whether or not you have any pride at all. Depending on the time of day and what I've eaten, the Christmas Party at the Ranch could go either way...
"He's an angry elf!"
My roommate James on Jamel's -- I mean Santa's -- lap, seated on the throne of lies. "You stink. You smell like beef and cheese! You don't smell like Santa." After they worked out their differences, Santa told James three things that he needed to know about New York:
1. You see gum on the street, leave it there. It's not candy.
2. There are, like, thirty Ray's Pizzas. They all claim to be original, but the real one's on 11th.
3. If the sign says "Peep Show" it doesn't mean that they're letting you look at your presents before Christmas.
Valuable information for everyone to know.
And of course that leaves me to spread the joy to the masses. I've found that the best way to spread Christmas Cheer is singing loud for all to hear.
After moonlighting as an elf for a night, there were several things that I learned:
There are only three jobs available to an elf:
1. Work at nights making shoes while, you know, while the old cobbler sleeps.
2. You can bake cookies in a tree. As you can imagine, it's, uh, dangerous having an oven in an oak tree during the dry season.
3. But the third job, some call it, uh, "the show" or "the big dance," it's the profession that every elf aspires to. And that is to build toys in Santa's workshop.
Getting there was another difficulty: I passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gum drops, and then I walked through the Lincoln Tunnel.
So, if you're feeling lucky, do me a favor... call me an elf one more time.
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