Deserted Roads, Late Nights, and Good Music

Some combinations are so perfect it's hard to imagine one part without another. Lennon and McCartney, steak and baked potato, Homer and Marge, mountains and trees, Montana and Rice, vacation days and the beach, long flights and babies...well ok...maybe not that one. For me, another one of these combinations is night driving and music.

Driving in the day is different, you and the world are exposed to one another and the things that happen in sunlight are the sort of things you want to know about. You can drive at night in blissful ignorance of what goes on beyond your horizons. So if you add the mystery of the night to the romance of the open road, the song you listen to seems to mean just a little bit more. I don't think it's any coincidence that there are so many songs about the open road (Midnight Rider, Running on Empty, Born to Run, Take it Easy, Country Roads etc.).

The other night I had the perfect combination: driving down a remote highway at 2 AM while listening to a cd full of my newest itunes purchases. I guess it was the mood of the night, but I seemed to find profound meaning in nearly every song. With waves of desperation in his voice Tom Petty told me that "...it's so painful, something that's so close, but still so far out of reach." The Who said that "I don't need to fight, to prove I'm right." And then Coldplay asked me to "Look at the stars, look how they shine for [me]." My soul, simmering in brilliant musical philosophy was rudly awakened by "Lido Shuffle" by Boz Scaggs." You probably don't know this song right off the bat, but look it up and you'll remember it...then you'll probably download it...then it'll be your #1 guilty pleasure song. I really tried to find deep meaning in this overtly pop tune discussing a gambling addiction...but it just wasn't there. Even though there was nothing meaningful to take away, I couldn't keep myself from rocking out in the way you can only do in your car.

So maybe there was no deep meaning in Tom Petty's words either. Maybe there didn't need to be. Maybe there's no deep meaning in music, the road, or the night...regardless of the metaphorical possibilities. Maybe there's just good music, the freedom of the road, and mystery of the night. So instead of manufacturing profundity out of lines like "we are all just prisoners here, of our own device," I should just drive and enjoy the music.

I think grizzled old King Solomon was right in his first line of Ecclesiastes. So I should just relax and enjoy the music. I'm convinced that Jesus would road trip with me and rock out to Springsteen.

Who likes to discuss the weather?

This morning I checked my Hotmail account, which still thinks that I am in Kingsport, TN. The home page alerted me to the brisk 64 degree temperature, accompanying scattered clouds, and light wind conditioning Kingsport. I then laughed to myself as I looked out the window to my right which revealed a palm tree being assaulted by the tyrannical Florida sun. East Tennessee, this is not…the lizard that stood mockingly on my shoe this morning told me so.

I’m a big fan of good conversation. From deeply personal truths to discussing the merits of the Steelers front 7, I love authentic conversations. So, whenever I bring up the weather, it seems trite. In high school I went on a pseudo date with a really attractive girl from another school. This was 1999, so I was probably wearing a plaid button up shirt tucked into straight legged jeans held up by a brown leather belt with a gold buckle and workish boots…I can’t remember if that was stylish or not (I can‘t imagine how it would be), but it was what I usually wore. So essentially when I got dressed I probably should have known then that I was in over my head. I picked her up and as we drove down the road in my 88 Saab (the Great White Hope as I liked to call it), I opened the manual sunroof and the surprisingly hot February sun warmed us. Unfortunately, we struggled for conversation. I asked a ton of questions and got mostly one word responses. After only a few minutes I had used up all my good stuff. There was nothing left to discuss but the weather…with only shallow conversation to follow…at that point I knew it wasn’t going to work out.

Today I don’t feel trite as I bring up the weather. Maybe it’s because I’m still expecting a crisp September morning to signal the coming seasonal change even though the lizard said it wasn’t gonna happen. Or maybe it’s because the change in my surrounding weather signifies a bigger change for me. And like the autumn in Tennessee, this change is welcome. Make no mistake though…I may be in Florida, but I Tennessee boy I will always be.

First Blog

*This is post #1 of a blog that I intend to update at least once a week (maybe more). Comments, remarks, criticisms, and any other input is always welcome. Also, I am archiving some writings from the past that you're welcome to check out. Thanks for venturing here!


I sit here, my mind rambling, at my new desk at New Mission Systems International. Behind me is a world map dotted with thumb tacks representing the locations of our affiliates. These red tacks are in places like East Timor, Malawi, and Estonia. I'd say each of us could speak to someone today who is unaware that any of these places exist.

The diversity of this world can overwhelm...especially when you feel called to relate to those in the most remote/dire places. I speak often of a moment when these differences pierced my heart. In the spring of 2005, I walked in to a Haitian village in the Dominican Republic (if you're unaware of the prejudicial issues between the Dominicans and the Haitians look it up...the way the Haitians are treated is tragic). I meandered past homes and shops that were constructed with materials that I would throw in the recycle bin or take to the scrapyard. About 10 of us were there, and we could not help but be spectacles, seeing as how we were white, educated, and relatively wealthy. Essentially, I was the socioeconomic antithesis of everyone I met. Bothered and embarrassed as I was by that fact, I was met with something beautiful...the warm, loving, and sincere welcome of the Hatian people. At that moment I realized that these differences were entirely irrelevant.

I'm reminded of Paul's writing in Colossians 3:11: "Here there is no Greek of Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian (a barbaric group considered by others as a step above wild beasts), slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all."

Paul is speaking of a life in Christ, and in this passage reminds of the inclusiveness of the Gospel. No longer was a life with God limited to the Jews. So as I think of far off places and different cultures like East Timor, Gabon, or Andorra, I realize that those differences are entirely irrelevant regarding the Gospel. As Paul writes, Christ is all and in all. So I celebrate the love that he gives me that is extended to the reaches of this world.

That is why I am at this missions sending organization today...to share that truth...and to love people...wherever they're from, whatever they look like, whatever they think, and whatever they do. As Christ modeled.

Misguided Christianity in the Kingsport Times

This summer, the following letter was published in the Kingsport Times News. I was pretty irritated and felt the need to respond. First is the aforementioned letter, followed by my reply which was published shortly after.

Immorality is destroying America

Modern day America is just about as immoral as Sodom and Gomorrah. The people of this day and age are unthankful and unashamed.

Back in my day, people shouted as they walked to church, and they shouted all the way home. Now people don't even go to church. They took prayer and Bible study out of the schoolhouses and brought in sex education and witchcraft. You parents that let your children read these Harry Potter books are guilty of witchcraft and idolatry and you're going straight to hell.

Instead of getting a thrashing for misbehavior, the parents, teachers and doctors today get these children heaped up on ritalin. You could give ritalin to a cocaine addict and they wouldn't know the difference. Then, they wonder why this generation has amounted to nothing more than drug addicts, fornicators and murderers.

Back in my day we didn't turn to a pack of pen-pushing pantywaists and labcoat Larrys to tell us how to live. We turned to the word of God.

It seems like every time I go to the store I see a teenage girl carting around three or four young ones. You used to not see that kind of thing around here.

The women in this day and age ain't worth marrying. The Bible says a beautiful woman without virtue is comparable to a gold ring in a pig's nose.

If I had my way, I'd have it to where these women and their children wouldn't get food or medicine through welfare. The Republicans tried to do this in 1996, but Clinton vetoed the bill twice until Republicans finally gave in.

You people ain't smart enough to come in out of the rain. I never thought the good Lord would let me live to see this day.

Bill Sullivan

Kingsport, TN



My response:

Mr. Sullivan,

Your myopic diatribe reeks of the ignorance and irrational judgment that send scores of people away from Christianity every day. As Christians, our purpose is not to condemn everything that appears evil. Our purpose is to extend the love of Christ to unbelievers, to fellow Christians, and to strangers. The judgment placed on unwed mothers and Harry Potter readers simply is rooted in your tradition, not in scripture, and certainly not in love. We see Jesus explicitly condemn this practice in the Gospel of Mark, chapter 7. He rebukes religious leaders after they insist that Jesus and his disciples follow man made laws above God's law. Bible Belt Christianity is often guilty of the same. Judging another man is not our place, aligning ourselves with scripture is.

To those who found this letter offensive; on behalf of loving Christians everywhere, I apologize. I don't seek to defend sin, I seek to defend sinners. None among us can claim to be without sin, thus no man can claim to be more righteous than another. The religious (not Biblical) judgment Mr. Sullivan, Fred Phelps, and others profess does not reflect true Christianity, simply the misguided opinions of cold hearted men.

Religious Judgement says: "You're going to hell," Biblical judgment says: "I deserve it too."

Religious Judgement says: "I hate sinners," Biblical judgment says "God hates sin, not sinners."

Religious Judgement says: "Your past is condemning," Biblical judgment says "Jesus doesn't care."

Religious Judgement says: "Change, then come to Christ," Biblical judgment says "Be changed by Christ."

More and more I sympathize with Gandhi who said "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."

The fact that millions refuse Christianity due to Christian behavior sickens me. Christians must desire above all to share Christ and His truth, not the fallacies and ignorance of man.

Jesus and Bruce Springsteen

've always had an eclectic taste when it comes to music, and think it stems entirely from my parents and older siblings. I have vivid memories of being a little guy, and listening the likes of The Temptations, The Eagles, The Beatles, Bon Jovi, Rich Mullins, Billy Joel, and James Taylor among others. I loved that music, to the point that I had my sister dressed me up as Bruce Springsteen one Halloween! Now, at seven years old I could understand the concept behind "My Girl," but I had no idea what James Taylor meant when he sang "I've seen fire and I've seen rain." I'm thankful that my family exposed me to this music because now I'll go back and try to understand what the artist was conveying. Though I'm aware many of those songs lack any true meaning, I've learned that some artists spoke real truth. For example, I recently saw a televised Bruce Springsteen (my 1989 Halloween hero) concert and he made a striking comment. He was playing a song titled "Jesus Was an Only Son" which was written from Mary's point of view; watching her son crucified. After playing his song, the Boss, visibly emotional, stated that he was overcome with compassion for Mary having to watch her son be murdered. So he decided to write a song about it. He closed with this comment: "If we lose our compassion, do we really have a claim to the divine?"

I don't know your feelings about Bruce Springsteen. You may think he can't sing and you may disagree with his politics. Regardless, his statement is truly profound. Paul teaches in 2 Corinthians that God is the author of compassion. However compassion is more than just a feeling, action follows. Seven times the gospels mention Jesus having compassion on someone. Every time, that feeling of compassion was followed by an action to help. So how often do we truly have compassion on our fellow man? When we see a man standing on a corner asking for food/money/gas are we compassionate? Or do we think "Deadbeat, he should get a job." In John 21 Jesus tells Peter that if he truly loves Him, to care for his people. In Matthew 25, Jesus teaches that what we have or haven't done for "the least of these brothers of mine," we have or haven't done for Him. So maybe Bruce was right. When our compassion is gone, when we dismiss someone else's burden, what claim do we have to loving Jesus?

"Ain't no doubt in no one's mind that love is the finest thing around." -James Taylor 1968

"And now these three things remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."-The Apostle Paul AD 55

Love God. Love people.

Love,
Matt

Snoring and Selfisness in Africa

I walked into the dark, fire smelling home wanting only to drop my belongings. A man I knew only as Pastor was my host and I greeted him upon arrival. Seated across from him on the couch was another African man. His complexion, size, age, fleeting gray hair, late 80s golden glasses, and suspenders made him a perfect double for Terence Mann, James Earl Jones’ character from Field of Dreams. Though the resemblance struck me, I greeted him with due respect. His reply was different, “A blessing to meet you Matthew, my name is Frederick.”

For the next 25 or so minutes we shared chai, laughs, and stories from years of ministry. I then learned that I would be sharing a room with Frederick that night and found myself looking forward to another conversation with him. After a few more questions, I politely excused myself to go discuss the following day’s events with my team. When I returned, Pastor was still awake and showed me to my room. To my disappointment, Frederick was sound asleep and obviously unavailable for further conversation. I quietly readied myself for bed and laid down without disturbing Frederick. I had nearly drifted off to sleep when I was startled by an amazingly loud snort. Sitting up, I concluded that either a giant pig was terrorizing this part of Kenya or Frederick was having a heart attack. Looking over at Frederick, I realized that he was sleeping peacefully and heart must have been working fine. As the horrific sound persisted, it slowly began to dawn on me that Frederick was snoring, and it was not going to stop...and I was not going to sleep. As moments became minutes and minutes became hours, my frustrations and weariness grew. Each of my efforts to suppress the sound (which ranged from burying my head in a pillow to removing my shirt, tying it around my head, and twisting the ends to fit in my ears) were abject failures. Nearly four hours after my struggle for slumber began, I finally found it by making enough noise to awaken Frederick. My manufactured coughing spell was enough to quiet him long enough for me to fall asleep.

At the desolate hour of 5:30 (only 2 hours after I had fallen asleep), Frederick woke me with loud morning greetings. Startled by my new found consciousness and angered by the same, I bristled at his words. I suppressed angry thoughts and resentment and mustered a half-hearted reply. Fully dressed in his business attire, Frederick was about to leave. I was expecting a simple goodbye, but instead he asked to pray for me. When first proposed with this I was appalled by his nerve of asking for more of my time, after occupying it for so long the previous night. Again, I mustered a half hearted reply. What followed was one of the most heart-felt, genuine, and articulate prayers for blessing I had ever received. Despite my wooden heart and angry spirit, Frederick refreshed, blessed, and restored me through his prayer.

When I first woke up, I saw him as selfish and rude. His prayer alerted me to his true Godliness and humility. I was judging this man’s heart for something he had done literal unconsciousness. As he got up to leave, I was again struggling for a proper response. My thanks and goodbye probably seemed less genuine the my previous utterances that morning, but it was the most sincere. My struggle for words this time was due to a pierced heart instead of a hardened one. Selfishness is easily imposed on another when you suffer from the same. Frederick, wherever you are, God bless you.

Teaching 6th Grade in Kenya

Dozens of inquisitive brown eyes were fixed upon me, a clueless, solitary, Caucasian man. Struggling to find words appropriate to the situation, I merely said, “hi, I’m Matt.” Moments earlier I had been thrust into a standard 6 (6th grade) classroom in the village of Elengatta, Kenya. Having never taught anything more advanced than subtraction in any school setting, I was hoping for a bit of instruction. Unfortunately, my instructions were as underwhelming as my opening words: “Ask them questions, and they will ask you questions.” Attempting to follow these instructions, I asked the class, “What would you like to know about me?” I received nothing but stares as blank as the chalkboard behind me. I began to wonder how on earth I was going to be able to fill a day’s worth of class time. My only idea was to petition God for some kind of breakthrough to at least interact with these children. The awkward silence was broken by my haphazard explanation of America and its characteristics. After drawing a map that bore a closer resemblance to a flounder than to America, I sheepishly asked the class if they had any questions. To my delight, one boy raised his hand. He then said, “We are not getting you.” Turns out my Southern US brand of English is a far cry from the Kenyan version. Kenyans speak in a choppy, unsure sounding manner. With my drawn out vowels and shortened suffixes, I may as well have been speaking in Korean. After adjusting my speech to their understanding we had a great time with one another.

Through this instance I realized something profound. My communication to the children was out of my selfish desire for progress and for time to pass. Nothing was accomplished until I grasped that my teaching was fully for them. Our efforts to help, teach, or instruct others are completely futile when we have ourselves in mind. In removing yourself from consideration, you are allowed to wholly serve others. Even if we’re speaking the same language, a selfish motivation provides a barrier greater than any language can create.