Allow me to Reintroduce Myself

It has been a while.

I left off here in a dark place. In the few months since, things have changed. I’d looked in the mirror, stared into the abyss as it looked back at me.

I realized a few things.

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Ironically, it took watching Tony Robbins on his Netflix documentary to help see the truth. To look at some limiting beliefs, to realize what I’d cost Val and the boys over the last ten years.

Things have changed.

I’ve given myself permission to be the best father and husband I can be, to be my own man and stand on that foundation.  We cleaned out our house taking almost twenty bags of various things to be donated/trashed. My book collection is down to a few volumes of importance (everything from here out will be digital).

Some weight has lifted.

I started a new job, taken far too long to settle back into writing. I’ll start my first season as head coach for Carter’s baseball team this spring with opening day on April 1st. We are making steps towards a more purposeful life.

The boys are still crazy and active. They still surprise us with what they do and say on a daily basis.

So this blog will be a return to the words, the calling to put things down on paper, to stay honest, to honor the permission to write.

That’s the biggest thing that’s hit me in the past few months.

I’m allowed to learn and grow, to not have all the answers. To be a father and figure it out on a daily basis.  To be a husband and do the best I can. To be a writer no matter where the words end up.

To reach an audience because I know you are still out there. You’ve been there like me and you’ve grown.

To know that it’s okay as we go forward.

I hope you’ll join me on this new start.  Through a crazy baseball season and busy summer of sports for Aiden and Carter, trips to the pool and our first family vacation. Many stories wait to be told and I’m excited to see how they end up.

And I’m okay.

It’s taken a long time to get there, but I think I’ve finally found the starting point, the foundation to look towards the future and I’ll take that for 10:09 PM on a Tuesday night.

 

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Silence

It hasn’t been an easy two weeks.

I watched the turmoil of this election as it played out across the world. We’ve had our struggles in various parts of life. I’ve taken a job that has me working long shifts a few days a week and our family time has suffered.

Carter looked at me the other morning and said that he missed me and he wished I was home at night. As a father, hearing that breaks my heart.

You want to provide and make a difference but you don’t want to lose your son as a trade-off.

These weeks have seemed like a holding pattern.

I haven’t felt this much stress in a long time. And when I’d try to type I’d find nothing.

Silence.

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One of my goals recently is to be more honest. I’ve starting thinking about a project based on fatherhood, a book to reach out to other guys going through the same things as me.

Something for the rest of us that don’t have our lives lined up in a neat row.  The ones not in the holiday movies wearing sweaters as a fire roars in the background.  The dads staring down bills, stressed out spouses, crazy kids, and demands demands demands.

I’ve taken to listening to podcasts on the way home from work.  Something about the miles of dark highway makes it easy to listen. I had on my guy, Pastor Erwin McManus, and he said this last night.

He said his wife asked him why he always speaks about courage and living an adventurous life.  He replied:

It is my greatest fear to miss the opportunities God gives me and not live out the life he has planned for me.

His fear is missing the boat, the side street, the fork in the road that leads to God’s Grand Design.

I’ll admit, there are days where that design seems so far off in the distance that I’m not even standing at the starting line.

My fear, the thing that haunts me, is the same.  It is missing the opportunities that are coming, the open doors, the connections, the chance to live a full life and do something to put a dent in the universe.

We find what we look for; a sliver of daylight in the night, a crack in the wall, a whisper in the silence. Sometimes we only have the strength to turn our heads in the right direction and, just barely, open our eyes.

It’s a start.

 

A New Heart

I am an only child.

Usually, when I impart that bit of information on someone, they come up with a variety of conclusions.  Only children are spoiled. They never had to share anything. They grew up lonely.

I don’t know how many of these are true, at least not for me.  The internal life I may have gained from being an only child most certainly helped me on the path to being a writer.  It made me an observer, someone willing to sit outside the crowd and watch what happens.

I have a few cousins, though, and one is my closest older relative in age.  Her and I were always close.  We mourned together when our grandparents passed away a few years ago. She is someone I can not see for months and automatically restart a conversation when we meet like it was yesterday.

As of this week, she is now on the transplant list waiting for a new heart.

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Heart is a weighted term. We talk about people “having no heart.” The world is filled with broken hearts, mended hearts, new hearts and old hearts. We know some walking through life as “cold-hearted.”

A few things have happened over the last two weeks that have tested my faith.  I prayed, as I’m still doing, for God to be present in a way that it is only possible and clear to be him.  I prayed for a life where faith is no longer confused with a noun, but only a verb.

These longings have shut doors and opened new ones.

Why is it so hard? We latch our hands so far in this world that we ignore the cry of our heart and soul for adventure, passion, engagement and creativity. We are content to hold in a survival pattern and just make it through.

We are waiting on the transplant list, staring at our cell phone willing it to ring.

Then God answers. Things fall apart.  The Creator tells us to step out and risk, leave the details to the one skilled in painting the art of our daily lives, setting up the camera shots of the epic movie of faith.

Tonight isn’t easy. This week isn’t easy. This month may not end easy, but the fight continues.  I’ll still pray, still look forward, still strive to live faith as a verb and not a noun, still want a life that can only be accomplished by the interjection of God.

I want the answer to be clear; that it wasn’t me.  That, in the midst of suffering, we leaned on God and he carried us through. The transplant will happen. The phone will ring if we are willing to be embraced by the vastness of God’s love and grace.

A new heart will happen.  It will happen for her and for us, for my family and yours. Never give up. Never stop fighting. Never lay down after you stumble in fear of rising again.

New life is coming. Stand strong. Keep moving. Walk forward and see what tomorrow brings.

 

 

Half Full

Recently I’ve had the chance to transition my day job.  I’ll always call it a day job, in that it supports the writing dream.

We all need to have the deeper current running under our souls pulling us forward.

Today I was trained by a guy named Ben. Ben was an interesting guy, gun fanatic, video game fan and comic reader. We were making small talk when he said something that stuck with me. He said:

“I’m a pessimistic guy. I feel like you find the level of crap (he used a different word) you like in your life and get comfortable.”

Know anyone like this?

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I recently listened to a podcast from Pastor Erwin McManus, one of my favorite inspirational church leaders.  He spoke about faith being a nonsense, in that it exists outside our run of taste, smell, touch, hearing, and vision. It is our connection with the divine.

We often confuse faith as a noun when it is really a verb.

There’s a moment in life, a balancing on the edge of time. Athletes know it in the release of the pitch, the height of the serve, the Hail Mary pass in the final seconds. Teachers feel it in the silence of an answered question.

Expectant mothers in the pause between birth and first breath.

You have a choice. The moment bends both ways. See it in darkness or light. Moving forward or back. Success or failure. Goal or denial. Run or stumble.

Then grasp your next moment and do it again.

I can’t give up. There’s too many dreams to fulfill, too much good to create, too tight of a community to join. Our story isn’t over. I refuse to believe that.

I refuse to go down without a fight.

I let Ben’s comment drift past on the afternoon breeze and looked out the window dreaming of the future, excited at the changes that are coming and where we are called to go.

Never give up.  As long as you are still breathing, your story isn’t over. Balance on the moment and look forward.  See faith as a verb and not a noun and see what God is waiting to pour into your life.

Call to Arms (an interview)

What’s missing in your life?

When was the last time you felt close to the divine?

When did you feel accomplished?

What dream drives you into the future?

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When did you last feel freedom?

What makes your soul cry out?

What do you worship?

Are you still alive?

I want a life that expresses God’s creativity, words that cause international conversation and community, friendships that never end, faith to hold on in the darkness, strength that takes risks, living a life of faith beyond anything I could imagine.

We must think about these things as they drive us forward.  Our sentences are not complete, our stories not over, our dreams alive and well, our visions expanding and our hope the fire that burns deep inside.

Never stop believing.

 

 

 

10 Lies We Tell Ourselves as Fathers

1/I am ready. You are never ready.  From the moment I held Carter for the first time, I knew my life had changed. No amount of guidebooks, movies, or internet research can prepare you for having a kid.

2/My kid will be a copy of me. Some of you may luck out on this.  I did not.  I have dark hair and brown eyes.  My boys are a blonde and a red-head and their personalities are polar opposites of my own in many ways.  Some nights I shake my head and wonder where they came from.

3/My marriage will stay the same. Kids start you on a process of discovery.  Your time is now split and your love has grown deeper and wider than you could ever imagine.  Now, what to do with it?  You were a team and now you are a unit. Days are blank slates and you must rewrite the script every morning.

4/My wife can take care of it. I’m guilty of this.  When you add kids in the mix of work, money, family, faith, and health things can fall to the side. When you have a wife who takes care of things, it can be tempting to let it go.  Be sure to step up and do your part.

5/My wife can take care of it (part 2). There is a phrase thrown around in faith circles of being a servant-leader. In the midst of the noise, it can easy to forget to take the time.  We should be talking about life, faith, disappointment, hope, love, joy, and salvation whenever we can to our kids. We should start them on the right waters and help guide their spiritual journey into the future.

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6/The sun will always shine. There will be fights.  The first time your kid looks at you in anger, you will never forget it.  You may think you’re a great dad but all it takes is a wrong answer to a question and it will set things off.  Disappointment is okay. Your kids need to experience negative emotions and learn how to process them. This is the hard part; give them permission to ride out the storm.  It will be valuable in the end.

7/Stuff is enough. A pile of toys only leads to more piles of toys. Eventually the interest fades and the gap must be filled with something. You can’t buy them off because the void will continue to grow. It is at the point where Val and I seriously limit gifts.  Experiences are more important.  Objects pass but memories will live on.

8/No second chance. Your kids are not your chance to “make things right.”  Too many people maneuver their children to sports or other endeavors to live out everything that did not happen in their own lives.  We hold up the past against our kids and vow to not make the same mistakes again.  This is fine as long as we understand they are their own person and a new story waiting to be written, even with influences from the past.

9/No measuring stick. Get a group of dads together and what happens? The talk will move from marriages to jobs and eventually kids. Achievements will come up, sports, talents, schoolwork, whatever it may be.  Don’t fall into the trap. Let your kids stand for themselves and let their accomplishments come up in conversation from other sources. Don’t be that guy, that trophy parent.

10/Never break the mold. You are allowed to cry, to laugh, to be embarrassed in public and play on the playground.  You are allowed to hug your kids, pick them up and spin them around before throwing them on your shoulders. Maybe your dad never did this with you but, in the end, that doesn’t mean you can’t do it with your kids.  Start a new family tradition and have the courage to see it through.

The Antihero

I read a statistic once saying that the popularity of a show like The Walking Dead could be correlated to economic dissatisfaction across society.  People like to see a representation of darkness and characters finding a way to survive. They love an escape and an outside enemy that will not stay dead is a perfect example of anxiety personified.

I went to see Suicide Squad the weekend it opened in theaters. The movie, one of the many made from the DC Comics universe, is based on a gang of villains recruited to stop an evil entity attacking the city.

The movie wasn’t the best.  If you are able to not think enough to ignore some horrible writing and acting, settling for action and special effects, you’d be happy. There’s a scene in a bar where the gang is debating whether to keep going with their mission.  One of the characters, with the ability to start fires, talks about burning his house down and killing his wife and children in the process.

Margo Robbie, playing Harley Quinn, tells him to own it.  She states that “normal is only a setting on the dryer.” Jared Leto, in the best performance of the movie, puts his spin on the Joker.

He asks Robbie’s character if she will die for him.  She says yes.  He thinks for a moment and tells her that is too easy.  He then asks if she will live for him.

The time frame for life is much longer than stepping into the void by following a cause.

This is the appeal of the antihero and we love our antiheroes.

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A trending Facebook headline tonight read that Amazon is releasing a documentary on Hugh Heffner. I scrolled through some responses and enjoyed the critics. You’d think Heff destroyed generations of the American family (maybe he did).

A rally for Donald Trump today, in Fairfield, Connecticut, drew almost 5,000 people. Just to let you in on the significance of that, Connecticut isn’t exactly a traditional bastion of Republican ideals.

We love our antiheroes. They give voice to things we don’t feel like we can access.  The bar of morality has vanished. Racism, sexism, violence, hatred, exploitation, whatever flavor you’d like.

They get ugly as we stand to the side and watch.

Suicide Squad is next in line chronologically from Batman vs. Superman.  Besides being another epic of horrible writing, the movie examines the relationship between power and responsibility.

Superman may save the world, but his collateral damage doesn’t just go away. Batman, honestly played well by a brooding Ben Affleck, dreams of the death of his parents and his inability to protect Gotham from Superman.

Regardless of our stance, we can’t stay neutral.  There is no still. We are riding our bikes up hill, either moving forward or drifting back.

As parents, we must take an accurate compass of society and be sure to communicate with our kids. We can help them know that everyone has a responsibility. They have a responsibility to you and their friends to be there and make a positive difference.

As those of us who claim to follow Jesus, we must never forget the message of love and peace. We know that God never gives up on us, never stops caring. We may feel the guilt of being unable to protect those we love from the dark side of life.  We may feel weak in the storm of audio and visual noise.

Antiheroes are flawed, even if they do not know it.

Being flawed is a constant reminder of grace.  If you are reading this and taking a breath, grace is alive and present in your life. Be thankful as you start a new week for the good thing to come and the positive changes in your future.

 

 

Intersection

Val often tells me a story about how brother attending church.  Her brother is an extremely talented guy.  I knew him before I met her and we had some good times growing up.  Over the years, he had visited a church or two but never really found one he’d liked.

The story goes that he was visiting a church where the youth pastor happened to do the message that Sunday.  He did the sermon barefoot first off (something that would weird me out also) then started talking about how great his life was.

The moment you hear a supposed man or woman of God talk about how great their life is and how you never suffer as one who follows Jesus, feel free to get up and head towards the door.  You’d learn more about Jesus at the Dunkin Donuts down the road.

The church stigmatized anxiety in a world full of it.

There’s a line in one of my favorite Bret Easton Ellis novels, Lunar Park, that I loveThe gist of the book is Ellis writing himself as the main character with his creations coming to life, including killer Patrick Bateman from his most famous work, American Psycho.

His character states that, as he drove down the road, every intersection was one turn away from a car accident waiting to happen.

The thought has stuck with me for years as a dad and husband.  Many days the car accidents feel one intersection away.

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We are allowed to be anxious.  Yes, friends can rattle off verse after verse about faith and hope, where our help comes from and casting our cares on Jesus. These are all good things.

They can coexist with anxiety.

I heard a pastor once say that faith and fear can’t coexist.

He’s wrong.

I have days of both.  Some weeks Faith is called Monday and Fear is called Tuesday.

As men we often try to pad things.  If you are reading this and married to one of us, know that the waters run deeper than we show. For me it is a constant feeling of electric tension, like a power line running through my chest.  I check my phone more often, waiting for that text message or voicemail of bad news.

Even if none seems on the horizon.

Anxiety opens the door to voices that can try to sell you wrong messages. You start talking circles around the tension in an attempt to beat it down. The words build on the feeling and you end up back where you started, looking at the ceiling as the night drifts past.

If this is you tonight, know that the sun still comes up tomorrow.  The story isn’t over.  Your worries carry an important lesson.  They can be a compass towards a better future.

It takes one step to move forward.  I know it isn’t easy, but movement is the key.

Thomas, the one stating he would only believe Jesus had risen if he appeared in the Upper Room, he personified anxiety and was, by far, one of the most human disciples. He is us.

“Yeah I get it, he’s alive and all, when I see it, I’ll believe. When I touch his wounds, I’ll believe.”

Jesus appears and holds out his hand offering Thomas a chance to do what he asked.  Thomas had to reach out to make it happen.  He could have stayed in his feelings, even staring face to face with Jesus.

He chose to move and see his faith complete.

~Matt

Lingering

First, I want to apologize for a delay in posting.  The last two weeks have been busy, more than usual. Inspired by a few points I’ve written about recently, I decided to go back to school and make some concrete moves to follow a dream and gain some stability in life.

My heart breaks for all involved in the shootings across the country this past week. This country is sitting on a crisis point, one that arrived on the waves of two hundred years of history.

Then I find out a few days ago that my cousin, my closest female relative in age who was always like a sister to me, is in ICU dealing with a cardiac issue. She’s too young to have these problems and we are all concerned, as a family, praying and pushing hard for her recovery.

She had done something we all do, wait for what seems like an innocent illness to pass and, when it doesn’t, finally go to the doctors. It was almost too late.

Lingering pain can destroy our lives.

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We get comfortable in our narratives.

This morning I took Carter to a pediatric sleep specialist at Penn State Health.  He hasn’t slept a full night in close to five years. We just keep sleeping with him to maintain some level of peace and get him back down as quick as possible.

It was time for a change and, thankfully, he will have a sleep study.

It was too easy to let it go and tell ourselves things will change at some point.

We get this way with our faith, our physical health, our families and our marriages.  Change takes effort on both sides, bringing whatever we have and meeting God in a divine collision.

For there is no such thing as stasis.  If we aren’t moving forward, we are falling back.

I’m in the midst of reading Phil Knight’s memoir, Shoe Dog about the founding of Nike. He mentioned something the other night that stuck with me.

He said that the essence of competition is forgetting, forgetting the past and ignoring the voice that tries to convince you to stop. It is facing each challenge with a fresh template.

As impossible as it seems, the power of the past can be broken.  From a macro level with policy reforms and new leaders to the micro level of taking a step of faith. It may sound cliché at this point, but I believe that God has a purpose for all of us.

We have a difference to make and, if you are reading this tonight, your difference is still waiting.  Your job isn’t over.

Your divine collision is on the horizon.

~Matt

 

The First Stone

I am in the midst of reading Malcom Gladwell’s, David and Goliath.  The book, as you can imagine, is an examination of the perception of the underdog. Gladwell takes readers on a journey through places where disadvantages can become assets and strength can be found in weakness.

In one section, he writes about the Civil Rights movement and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. King, in Alabama, needed the notorious sheriff Bull Connor to show his hand and reveal his racist intentions.  The act of aggression would be enough to start a movement. It happened more than once, with Connor’s forces turning fire hoses and police dogs on protestors.

My friends, the enemy has shown its hand in one horrific moment inside a Orlando nightclub.

The question remains, how do we respond?

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There’s a scene in the Bible where a woman caught in adultery is taken in front of Jesus.  When you read the text, it seems like she was literally caught in the midst of it and dragged to a public street.

Jesus looks up to see an angry crowd.

They explain what happened and pick up stones to kill her, as with the legal penalty of the time.

Jesus states, “those without sin cast the first stone.”

There’s way too many stones getting tossed around. My social media feeds were political jabs all day from both the left and right sides; terrorism, gun control, mental illness, ISIS, LGBT hate and anger, etc.

This is the time for a response, as King had the right strategy.  The church needs to stand up in love and protect those targeted by terrorist forces. Doors, and arms, must open.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough.  Enough of the hate, anger, bickering and politicizing. Enough of both sides picking through the bones of victims to prop up their arguments.

I was listening to the end of Pastor Stephen Furtick’s podcast this week where he spoke about the book of Revelation. He stated that a seminary professor summed it up this way:

Evil is real. God is greater. We win in the end.

The Orlando community will recover. Families will ban together and churches, if they are truly standing on the words of Jesus, will step in and do their part. Conversations will happen about how to prevent another shooting and they must be led by love.

I believe the world can change, that we should not be surprised at the depth of evil and never forget the strength of good. We must grasp even harder to our calling, keep our eyes forward, and see hope in the faces of the generations to come.

~Matt