An Open Letter to Michael Vick

Hey Mike,

I heard Jim Rome call you today “Michael Jordan in cleats.”  At first I thought it was a pretty absurd analogy, but after thinking about it for a little bit I think he was right.  You did things at the quarterback position that I had never seen anyone in pads do before.  I became a fan when, in 2000, you almost carried VT to the national championship by yourself.  I was rooting pretty hard for you then.  When you beat Bret Farve in the playoffs at Lambeau I was beside myself (mostly because I’m a Niners fan and HATE Green Bay!), and I was rooting for you then, too.

When I heard a couple of years ago about the dog-fighting and treatment of some of the pit bulls I was pretty astonished, to be honest.  I couldn’t imagine someone doing that sort of thing.  I actually tried to explain it away, saying to myself that you were probably just a product and a victim of that environment.  And I guess that could still be true, but it didn’t explain away some of the horrible things you did.  Those things were, as I’m sure you see now, your fault.

So this morning I saw a lot of the press conference.  You signing with the Eagles is a pretty big deal.  There were protesters and signs…even the newspapers got in on the slander, saying “What were the Eagles thinking?”  You have caused, and will continue to cause quite a stir.

And as I saw you explaining your situation this morning without a prepared statement, without a tele-prompt, without somebody else coaching you into answers, I have to admit I was still rooting for you.

I guess I just know and have experienced what it means to have been given grace.  I have never been in the public eye, and I have definitely never killed dogs (although I was riding shotgun when a friend accidently hit one in the car), but I can’t explain fully how much I identify with you.

I remember a time in my life that was very dark, when my little thoughts would hijack my mind, and would lead me to do and say things that I knew weren’t supposed to be in me.  I remember a feeling of helplessness and depression because the people and circumstances around me felt like they were holding my soul underwater, and I remember I had a huge part to play in those circumstances even though I felt like I was drowning.  I needed, just as you do now, a second chance at life because although I was physically alive, I wasn’t living.

Now I assume you’ve had some very good conversations with Tony Dungy lately.  I don’t know the man myself, but from every account I’ve heard, he is a tremendous human being.  No doubt he’s told you about real life.  No doubt he’s told you about Jesus.  Now I’m not going to get preachy or anything, I’ll just say this; I have received the second chance, the forgiveness, the grace, and the encouragement you are needing right now.

So I’m sorry that people are holding up signs, and I’m sorry that the papers in Philly are slandering you.  I’m sorry that people are holding you to a part of your life where you don’t live anymore.  More than anything else I’m sorry you had to ever live in a place where doing what was wrong felt right, and destroying lives was part of how you felt you had to live yours.  I lived there too, but nobody is holding up a sign on my front porch and nobody is holding me to decisions I made when I was 20.

So I, for one, am still rooting for you.

Since it’s been awhile

I’m pretty sure the last time I posted a blog was when Carina was born, and that was over 3 months ago.  Shame on me.

Not that I’m assuming anyone particularly is hurt by the previous statement, but I have realized that getting my thoughts down in print, whether in a journal or on this blog, is therapeutic.  And I could probably use some major therapy about now.

Tomorrow I will leave my family for a week to hang out with almost 1200 high school students (about 30 of which I know personally) to attempt to teach them about Jesus and to do my best to get out of the way so they can have opportunities to see him more clearly.  This is a pretty monumental task, really, and it floors me still that a God who created the universe, He of infinite love, grace, and perfection, would trust me and some of my friends (each of us infinitely imperfect) to show Him to them, and them to Him.

And why would God do that?  Why would He decide to let humans be His instrument of choice to prove Himself to the world.  I’m just saying…If I were God and wanting to prove my existence and love to the world, I probably wouldn’t trust humans so much.  It’d be much easier to just write cloud messages to people, making each one personal and specific, leaving no doubt about my existence, and how I cared for humans and the intricate minutiae of their lives.

Instead, though, God picked me and you, not just as the objects of His love, but to be the vehicles of it, too.  Let that thought brew for a minute.  Pretty incredible, right?

Despite my terrible flaws and imperfections, God wants to use me to show his beauty and perfect love.  I can’t wrap my head all the way around it, but I am beginning to see why He would do such a foolish thing.  God KNEW that love would be worth it, and that the pursuit of that love is what drives humans at the core.

What that means is that I have to be willing to see through faults, to look past selfishness, pride, conceit, ambition, poor judgement, and self-centeredness in others, and know that God created them by and for love.  And if I can do that, then I have to do my best to kill those same things in myself so that others can look at me and see less of those traits and more of His love.  And lets be honest…doing those two things ~ seeing God in others AND allowing God to be seen in me ~ is infinitely difficult, but infinitely valuable if we are going to ever experience the infinite love that God has designed us for.

I truly believe that the aim of each human heart is God’s love, and if they are expected to experience even a little bit of that, I am expected to share (despite my faults and to the best of my ability) my experience with that love.

So I would ask that you pray with me that I (and the friends going with me this week) will be able to do just that for a group of high school students that may have NO idea that we are doing just that…putting ourselves aside in order for them to see LOVE more clearly.

April 2, 2009

Carina was born today.

You’d think after watching my 2 boys being born I’d kinda be used to it.  I guess I am, in the sense that I knew what to expect; the whole C-section deal, Maya being in a lot of pain, hospital for 3 or 4 days…

Even the emotion of having a new baby.  I’d done it before.  But that didn’t stop it from happening again today.  

I lost control when I heard Carina cry for the first time.  I was mesmerized just looking at her as she cried under the  heat lamp.  I couldn’t help just stroking her cheek and letting her grab my finger with her little hand.  I’m in love again.

So, that’s all, really.  There’s not much more to say that could accurately describe a day like to day.

Thank you, friends, for all your prayers and support.  Thank you, Mom, Jill, and family, for watching the boys all day so I could be with Maya and Carina.  Thank you Matt and Janey for dinner. Thank you, Carol, Claire, and Kristina, our wonderful nurses, for your AMAZING care of our little girl and your comforting words when she was breathing too quickly and her blood sugar was too low.  Thank you most of all, Jesus, for LIFE.  

Joshua prayed a prayer other than “Tick-Tock” for the first time tonight by himself.  It went like this, verbatim: “Thank you Jesus for taking care of Momma and Carina.  Amen”

Amen.

BTW…I have many really cute pictures from today, but this is my favorite.

Where life is

Today was one of those crazy ones.  You know, the weekends that you have ZERO time for yourself, or to recover from the week, or even to prep for the next one.  I was up at 6, in my office by 7 to meet with some friends to discuss a book we are reading, “The Tangible Kingdom.”  So until 8:30 we were kicking around ideas about how “church” (as we have come to know it) just isn’t cutting it, how Jesus is still alive and beautiful, but sometimes we get in the way (with the best of intentions, even) of letting people see him.  FANTASTIC discussion, even better friends.

I was home by 9 to make waffles for the family.  Isaiah and Joshua ONLY wanted powdered sugar on them.  I figure syrup is really just liquid sugar, so what’s the difference.  And it makes a great after-breakfast face for little boys.

Maya and Joshua were off by 10 to get over to her mom’s house for the baby shower.  I took Isaiah shortly after that to his final Upward basketball game so it could become official; Isaiah is the ONLY kid on our 10-kid team to not make a shot this year.  To be fair, he has only shot the ball about 5 times all season, hit the rim 3 times, but only one was ever in any danger of going in.

So today I told Isaiah a couple of times during the game, verbatim, “I don’t want you to pass.  I want you to go all the way to the basket and shoot.”  This, mind you, is in DIRECT contrast to what I have been coaching the whole team the entire year.  We have so many ball hogs that I had to make a mandate that they pass the ball (didn’t work for most of them).  

So Isaiah tried once early in the game and hit the front of the rim.  In my mind I was praying for it to drop.  In the last quarter of the game I knelt down and told him to do it again, so he did.  He ran right up to the side of the rim, the only place where, using all the strength he possesses, he can get the ball above the rim.  So he poised to shoot, and out of nowhere a kid (not the one who was SUPPOSED to be guarding Isaiah) knocked the ball out of his hands.  That kid (who had scored seriously at least 20 points by then) was cheered by his coaches and parents, even though he was ONLY supposed to defend against one specific player.  Isaiah looked back at me and I could see his spirit leave him.  

Isaiah then came to me, tears welling, and said, “Daddo, every time I try someone always takes it, and I pass it to everyone and they never pass to me.”  All I could do was hug him and say, “I know.”  

So then over to the baby shower…Carina is now less than 3 weeks from an appearance, and I think today that really hit me.  Seeing so many baby girl clothes made it real, I guess.  I have no doubts that in 20 days I am going to be in love, once again.  I didn’t believe that once; when Joshua was born I honestly was worried where he was going to fit in my heart.  I loved Maya and Isaiah so much that I was worried.  I’m over that now.  I know that love ONLY increases, expands, and does so exponentially.  It has no bounds, no limit.  Thanks for that, Jesus.

After that was Maya’s great uncle’s surprise party.  To sum it up briefly, AWESOME.  I’m beginning to believe that a good Mariachi should be required at most social functions.  Weddings, bar mitzvahs, church, St. Patrick’s day parties…you name the occasion, I promise mariachis can make it better.

I watched as generations of family came to celebrate Ed’s life.  To laugh with him, to remind him of the ways he used to discipline grandchildren (hang signs around their necks that said “I’m wearing this sign because I’m stupid”…seriously!), to hug and take pictures, to drink beer and then coffee, to sing and dance.  There was so much life and joy in that backyard.  

At one point I was dragged in front of the mariachis to dance with Maya’s great aunt WeeWee (don’t ask about the name).  She is at least 75, but forces every male member of the family to dance with her.  It is at once hilarious and beautiful.  She and I danced to “Sabor a mi.”, and as Isaiah and Joshua laughed their faces off at me, this gentle old lady whispered to me, “It’s good to dance, isn’t it Matt?”  I almost cried right there in front of 80 relatives, because in that second I realized she knew so much more about life than I do.  And she was 100% right.  Life is meant to be celebrated with friends and loved ones and family and strangers.  And it is good to dance.

To top the evening off, I got to go over to some friends’ house whose daughter was having a 12-year-old-birthday slumber party.  My invitation came late in the evening as a special guest who would scare (as best I could) this group of girls.  I parked around the corner and decided to sneak up in stealth mode.  These girls were armed with glow sticks, in the middle of the street, swinging them and singing and dancing and laughing.  They had no idea I was there; there was nothing in the world in that moment that was more important to them than what they were doing, and I could hear the joy in their voices, pure and wonderful.

I scared them anyway.  It was awesome.  They screamed and ran, then laughed and beat me with glow sticks.  

I realized today even more that Jesus is never far, even from people who don’t recognize him or give him the credit for the absolutely amazing life that is all around.  ”I have come to give you life, and life more abundantly.”  That just might mean that we have to put ourselves in situations where we can get hurt and be vulnerable, dance and eat good food, and laugh like 12-year-old girls.  

Thank you, God, for the abundant life you have given me.  May I give it out as freely as it was given to me.

Becoming the very last

If I’m honest, my faith perilously rests each day on how I feel; how much sleep I got, whether or not I had a good breakfast, how difficult it is to get the boys up and ready for school, etc.  That’s not to say my belief in Jesus waivers from hour to hour, only that how that belief plays itself out in my daily life does.  It’s sad, actually.  I have such a hard time separating how I feel from what I believe, as if the latter should depend on the former.

This morning I read that Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone wants to be first, he must become the very last, and servant of all.”  A couple of the disciples had been arguing about which one of them was the greatest, as if that mattered to Jesus.  He tells them in the most unambiguous terms that in order to be great, in order to get closer to God, they must be willing to put themselves aside and to become the SERVANT of ALL.

That sucks.  Most days I don’t feel like being the servant of any, let alone the servant of all.  I am amazingly self-absorbed, and would rather people serve me.  I think most of us, frankly are this way, to some degree…somehow this is a part of being human.

And this is an amazing paradox for me, because when I stand back from my myopic view of life and begin to see other people as Jesus saw them, this serving thing then trumps whatever I am feeling, and a sense of something grander and more beautiful begins to emerge.  And the more I serve people the more I realize how little my problems really are in comparison, and, more to the point, I realize how little my feelings actually have to do with the situation in front of me.  That I haven’t don’t my taxes done yet becomes a small blip on the radar compared to the family who may be loosing a home because some bank thought it would be a good idea 3 years ago to give them a ridiculous loan.  That my job is frustrating becomes dwarfed by the fact that my friends are loosing jobs.

It does make me wonder why Jesus did it all, really.  I know He was God in flesh, but he was also flesh.  He was a man, and I’ll bet there were times where he just didn’t feel like being a servant, where he was just tired of “doing.”  I have wondered before what really went through his mind on the cross; the fact that he was redeeming the world, probably.  But did it ever cross his mind that SO many people would never get it…the fact that He was bringing reconciliation to ALL who would ever live would be lost on them; He died to give them a forgiveness they would never receive, a grace they would never experience, and a love they would never live.

But he did it, and that’s what makes it so captivating.  He died, gave up his right as GOD of the UNIVERSE, let people strip him of all the nature of God that were so rightly his…and he did this knowing that some WOULD get it; receive forgiveness, experience grace, and live love.

And so I’m learning to get past my feelings.  I’m learning that being a servant to all will probably never quit, despite my feelings of wanting to.  But in the ugliness of life, where serving in the love of Jesus persists, there beauty grows.  That gives me more hope than I can express.

Maybe I’m just tired.

I realized tonight will be the first night in the last 10 nights that I am at home with my family, with nothing to do but eat dinner and watch Madagascar 2. 

…what a sad commentary.

I understand that being a youth pastor has stretches of time where things are unavoidable.  This time it has been Jr. High camp, 604 gathering, Catalyst, dinner with friends, Upward basketball (has nothing to do with being a youth pastor, only with being a dad), serving at the homeless shelter, etc.  On top of that my wife is very sick with a sinus infection and she is more than 7 months pregnant. Seems like my house has been the place where I sleep lately, not where I live.  And I’m pretty tired of that.

I’m quite sure that Jesus never meant for my life to be like this.  Yes, I love my family.  Yes, I love my job, friends, church, students, and pastors.  But I have been spending entirely too much time “investing” in others while leaving my family hanging in the balance.  Although I have volunteered in Isaiah’s class each Wednesday for the last 3 weeks, and although I have spent most of the day with Joshua on Fridays, I rarely get to just hang out with my wife, or to spend time with my ENTIRE family.

On top of that, I heard some pretty ugly rumors about me through a friend today that are not only unfounded, but untrue and (what hurts the most) were meant to be slanderous.  

All that to say I’m tired.  I could use some time away from “church”, which is weird because I LOVE the people I work with and for.  I could use some time away from Merced, which is weird because I LOVE living here and really couldn’t imagine living anywhere else right now.  I could use some time away from my own thoughts, which is also weird because I’m not sure I could ever really do that.  I could really use some extended and concentrated time with my family and with Jesus.

I’m sure this will pass, and I’m nowhere near Kurt Kobain status, but tonight I’m gonna turn off my phone and eat pizza and watch Madagascar and laugh with my family.  

…see ya tomorrow at “church”.

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my burden is easy and my yoke is light.”

This Morning

I’m hanging out with my boys.  Isaiah and Joshua actually slept in until about 7:30, which is a rarity, and now are watching a few cartoons before we head out and do some stuff together.  Here’s what’s on the agenda:

1.  Hide and seek throughout the house.  The other night we played this for 45 minutes and found new spots to hide every time.  And every time someone gets found, the surprise and the yelling and laughing go on for at least a minute.  It’s pretty great

2.  Oh Wow Nickel Arcade:  Where else can you have an hour of fun (at least it is for them…and it’s fun for me to watch them have fun) together for less than $10.  Plus, we get to come home with the bounty of kings from redeeming the tickets from skee-ball, whack-a-mole, and various other loud, light-flashing hypnosis.

3.  A run/bike/ride to the park:  there is a small park about a half a mile away from our house, but if we take the awesome scenic route through the eucalyptus trees its about 2 1/2 away.  If Isaiah rides his bike, I run and push Joshua in the jogging stroller we have a much better time, and when we get there they are ready to ride swings and go down slides.

4.  Lunch at El Pollo Loco:  Isaiah would eat ONLY grilled chicken for the rest of his life if we let him, and Joshua would eat everything for the rest of his life if we let him.  And I’m still trying to shed some lbs., so staying away from burgers and fries is a good idea.

Quality time is a misnomer.  Quantity time is more appropriate, more fun, and more rewarding.

The lunacy of church

This past weekend was a long, fairly difficult one for me.  To start, for second consecutive week, I have been at a high school winter camp.  This time was with the FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) for Buhach and Atwater high schools.  The camp itself went well, but I think that being away from home for 6 out of the last 10 days began to take it’s toll on me, even though my family was able to make both trips with me.

When I returned home on Sunday afternoon I was pretty much spent.  I just wanted to sleep, but we have this amazing gathering of people that happens every Sunday night, and I play a role in making that thing go.  I got there and was immediately stressed (for no reason, really) at having to set up chairs, sound equipment, clean tables, etc.  That would have been okay, but two people who have only recently started to attend 604 (the name of our gathering) showed up early and were clearly drunk.  These two people are a brother and sister who are at any time only days from being homeless, they have no jobs, and they “hustle” (as they call it) everyday to just get enough money for food.  The have been to 604 quite a few times, and I have been encouraged that they have been so lovingly accepted so far into this community…So seeing them come to our service intoxicated broke me.

I called our worship team into my office just to pray for me, which I really needed.  I love that in an instant I have so many friends that are willing and able to encourage me and lift me when I feel like I can’t make it…

But this brother and sister, who in retrospect I should have asked to leave when they arrived, or to sit in my office while we got them some food, joined us in worship and were as disruptive as two people could be.  The man moaned and whaled at the songs that were being played.  The woman danced around in front of the congregations and forced them to clap for her after the songs.  The entire thing was extremely uncomfortable.

To make a very long story short, I and a friend drove these two home when things began to get WAY out of control.  They began yelling and cussing at each other, accusing the other of being an alcoholic, or dope smoking, or whatever else.  Once threw a plate of food in the other’s face and hair.

And I was at a loss as to what to say or do.

But I realized afterward that if i want to be a part of a community that loves, invites, and includes the broken, something like this is bound to happen.  I am beginning to understand how messy church should be.  I am growing in the knowledge that most of Jesus’ physical ministry here on earth was taking people who were messed up beyond what society would tolerate, and making them insiders, including them into the the greatest and best Kingdom that has ever been or ever will be manifested on this earth.  I am coming to experience and to give grace in the most scandalous ways, knowing that we are all broken, inept, imperfect people, and the only way we become whole, able, and perfect is through the eyes of a loving God who wants to give those same eyes to those same people.  It’s beautiful and frustrating, amazing and thoroughly crazy.

I love my church, my friends who are on the same path of experiencing Jesus and giving his love to those who may not deserve it, but need it most.

Now that Christmas is over…

…I’ve literally been sitting around all day with a flu bug.  Isaiah woke this morning at 5:30a.m. complaining that every time he tried to go back to sleep, he kept “burping”, which was a precursor to puking.  To top it off our plumbing was backed up to the point of sewage coming up into the shower, and while that may be more information than is necessary, it does aptly describe today.

It’s very funny to me, maybe even ironic, that in cartoonish contrast to the joy-filled Christmas day we had as a family yesterday that today would be spent in misery.  But even in this miserable day, I cannot speak the words that could express the joy I have in my life.  

As I type this I’m looking at the back of the heads of my boys who are sitting on the same skateboard in my living room watching Santa Clause 2.  They are simply amazing boys, smart and handsome, funny and charming.  I can’t help but smile whenever I see either of the two of them smile, or laugh along with them to whatever they laugh at.  

Maya had to go to Target for some things, but mainly I think just to get out of the house.  She’s 6 months pregnant, and she’s been doing laundry and cleaning puke and tending to 3 boys that she loves since before the sun came up. She deserves a break, and I won’t even make a big deal if she spends too much money at Target.  She is a phenomenal woman.  We played cards last night after the boys went to bed, and while I enjoyed smashing her at Rummy, I enjoyed  her beauty even more…and laughed at her jokes, mostly because she laughed at them first.  Her laugh fills me.  

And so I thank God for even days like today, when Isaiah is sick and just wants to sit in my arms, when Joshua is himself and won’t shut up, and when Maya has to take care of all of us.  Even these days are wonderful.

Paul’s words to the Phillipians resonate so clearly with me on days like today… ”Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

So I will think about such things.  I have been all day.

a word on the national conventions

I am against abortion, but realize that for decades Republicans and Democrats have been light years away from each other in the conversation.  I don’t think God intended a man to have a sexual relationship with another man, but realize that holding a sign or saying something from a church pulpit isn’t going to change the state of things.  I think being able to visit a doctor is one of the rights of being a human, but realize that right can and is unused and misused.  I think public education is where 98% of our tax dollars should go, even if that means my taxes pay for children whose parents can’t (or don’t) pay taxes.  

There are many, MANY more issues that both Obama and McCain will address, but ultimately my hope for my future, the future of my kids and wife, EVEN the future of our nation, rests in Jesus Christ.

All the conventions did, in my opinion, was drive people who have to live next door to each other further apart.  As much as some of my friends and peers might hate me saying this, I don’t care who wins the election, although I will cast a vote.

What I do care about is that people I come in contact with begin to experience their lives more and more in a reality that is only found in placing hope in the creator of their souls.  I care that broken relationships are restored; that injustices, both individually and corporately, begin to be remedied; that lives are lived with the expectation that they matter here and eternally.

I just really think that the only candidate worth investing my time in never wore a suit, never used a microphone, never raised campaign money, never read a tele-prompter for a speech, and never cared much for governments or earthly kingdoms.  I doubt, though, that anyone is going to be casting a vote for a Jewish rabbi…