Jesus

We have a bookstore at our church. It's not a far cry from what you'd see in a Family Christian Store. In fact, it's exactly like that - only I know the people who work at our bookstore and they serve up great coffee.

I have come to understand how bookstores get all their stuff. Merchants come in with stuff they'd like to sell in the bookstore (t-shirts, mints, greeting cards, coffee cups, scripture pictures) and they show their merchandise to the manager. Together, the merchants and manager decide what is worthy enough to make it on the shelves; what will sell; what will make a difference.

Well, about two months ago, I walked into the bookstore at my church and the girl behind the counter yelled out to me, "Jesus is here!" I thought she meant me at first. She didn't. Then she continued as bold as she'd started. "Did you see Jesus?"

"What are you talking about?" I grunted. Obviously, I didn't believe her. And because I hadn't had my coffee yet, I didn't care.

"He's right over there," she says, pointing over my shoulder.

I turned around and saw a couple of men in business suits talking to another man who helps with the inventory at our bookstore. They were dressed to the nines and looked to be the kind of gentlemen who used Brylcreem on their hair. Both of them had their hair piled high on their heads; hair that only an old barber's comb could've piled that high.

There was a counter and four feet separating me and the business men. And since they'd heard Kim's very loud, "Jesus is here!" announcement, they were looking in my direction. I felt strange; like since I was a Christian I should be interested in finding out where Jesus was, or what Kim was talking about, so I instinctively headed toward them. One of the men smiled and held up a Jesus doll that was robed, bearded and sandaled.

"Creepy," I said. It was one of those moments where the words tumble out before you have a chance to take an oral inventory. At the time, I didn't realize they were merchants, and I guess I assumed that anyone who had seen this doll...like ANYONE...would've felt the same as me; which was, "Gross! Where did that thing come from?"

So after I had said, "creepy," the guy holding it immediately said, "He speaks in 3 different languages; Greek, Aramaic, and English," and smiled very nicely my way. This is when I realized they were serious.

I must tell you, and if you know me well, you know this is true; I'm hardly ever mean to people's faces. I usually wait until they are quite a distance away before I disparage them. I have great restraint when I'm feeling irritated by something as irritating as the Savior of the entire world being turned into a rubber doll that is no doubt, expensive, and that will be used to decorate someone's house somewhere...and perhaps used as a tool to "witness" to those who need to make Barbie Jesus their personal Lord and Savior.

But like I said, I hadn't had my coffee yet, so all of my polish and pizzazz was dormant at this point. "Oh," I said. "Hmmm," I managed; the corners of my mouth drawn downward, head slightly cocked and nodding. My outside did not match my inside. My outside was diplomatic and controlled. My inside was feeling the same as I had felt the first time I saw "A Clockwork Orange" by Stanley Kubrick. I was....speechless. And unfortunately, with my "creepy" comment, which was not able to be recanted, I had brought the already somewhat tense atmosphere to a new level.

I walked away thinking, "Please God, please let the powers that be say "No" to Barbie Jesus going on sale in our bookstore. I had already pictured twenty percent off tags on him, and it made me uncomfortable. I did not want him in our store." Two months later, still no sign of him. So far, so good.

Though I definitely stand in judgment of anyone who would buy Barbie Jesus and find a special place to hang him up in their homes, I wonder if it's possible that I've somehow done the same thing. I mean, I realize I'm not wearing WWJD bracelets anymore, since all they did to make me more like Jesus was nothing. And no, I'm not one who is real into religious bumper stickers or t-shirts. But I know that I've still got some of the residue on me; the spiritual residue from the early days of my Christian life when I was saying things like, "Praise Jesus," when all I really meant was "Thank you." Or "Hallelujah," which only meant, "I'm glad that worked out for you." The truth is, I don't want Barbie Jesus on my shelf or in my heart. He's rubber. He's not tested one bit and he's suffered about as much as any American Girl doll has. And that's not enough for me. I don't want a doll. I don't want something plastic and pretty. I want the real thing. I don't want a reminder sitting on my shelf that speaks in 3 languages...languages that most of the world has never even heard before.

If Jesus is real, and I happen to think He is, the Barbie Jesus doll will not do one thing for me other than have me thinking Jesus is a toy. Well, He's not. He's not a toy. He's a Jewish man who died on a cross for His community. For me. To emblazon His image in rubber and tiny robes doesn't work for me. And neither does putting a fish on my car, or a cross on my neck. It's not a bad thing per se, but it's not Jesus either. It's costume jewelry. It's costume faith. It looks like faith and beliefs, but it's not. It's replication. And replication is not real. Replication is imitation.

Imagine if people didn't have bibles to carry around. Imagine if they didn't have Christian music to listen to. Imagine if they didn't have Christian pamphlets to pass out, or bumper stickers to stick on their cars, or crosses to wear, or t-shirts to speak for them. What if people couldn't blab on and on about their faith in Jesus? What if they couldn't buy up Billy Graham videos to pass out to their friends? What would happen? Would they be scared? Think about it. No Christian paraphernalia. No Christian bookstores. No Christian schools, cards, or movies. No Christian churches. What would happen? What would we do? How then would we be able to get our point across?

OUR point?

What if we couldn't speak of Jesus? What if we couldn't tell people what He had done for us? What would we do?

We'd have to do something. But what?

Maybe we'd have to...live Jesus. Maybe we'd have to breathe...Jesus. Maybe we'd have to...be Jesus. And maybe Jesus would have to love people. Maybe WE would have to love people. Maybe Jesus would have to save the world. Maybe we would have to save the world. Maybe Jesus would have to live from a redeemed place. Maybe we would have to live from a redeemed place. Maybe Jesus would have to show up. Maybe we would have to show up. Maybe Jesus would have to change lives. Maybe we would have to change lives. Maybe Jesus would have to turn the world upside down to get His point across. Maybe we would have to turn the world upside down to get His point across.

HIS point.

Jesus would have to be alive. We would have to be alive. Jesus would have to live what He believed. And so would we. Because the trappings would be gone. The props would no longer be accessible. We would have to really believe all that we said we believed. We would have to live without all the Christian bells and whistles. Without those things that "identified" me as a Christ follower. I'd have nothing to mark me as a Jesus person; nothing other than the love in my heart that drove me to accept people as they are. Nothing other than the sweat on my brow, that got there from helping my neighbor who was recovering from surgery. Nothing other than the use of my hands, that defended the poor and helpless.

I'd have nothing but love. I'd have nothing.

Nothing...but Jesus.

Halloween...here and gone!

Such a PERFECT night for Trick or Treating! My girls are getting older, but they still love getting dressed up for Halloween. And I have to admit...I love making their costumes. Anytime I get to throw caution to the wind and be creative, it's a good thing.

Chloe was a "Corpse Bride." She had many opinions about what she wanted. We worked it out and came up with this. Her head piece and hair ruled.

I had to sort of talk Evalee into her costume, but since she is ALLLL about comedy and being funny - she caved and went for it. Now I have to tell you - this costume was the deal. We had people rolling all night. Fun!

Here's our neighbor Chuck. He always gets dressed up.

It was a great time...lots of candy...lots of neighborly nods and waves... I love how fun little holidays can break up the monotony of our lives and bring so many of us together to celebrate.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Loving the Fall....

I really love fall. Here are some pics that say it all...in the fall!





This one is on a water color setting. Subtle change. (crappy camera)


God alone on this one - completely untouched.




I had to slip this in there because it's cute. Do you know how much Heather loves Dine or Dash? Oh my word. But someone help me...why would you want to wait on kids, do the stay at home mom thing all day, only to relax by serving up angry customers who want their food NOW?!?! Just curious. She's cute though, right? Love it.

It's in...almost!

Here are some pics of it. I've still got to look through this copy... see if I can find some more typos - and to make some final edits, but for all intents and purposes, IT IS FINISHED!!!

Still to do: set up online ordering, a couple adjustments to the cover, ordering a bulk of them for our bookstore... should be ONE MONTH; that's what I'm guessing.

As you can see I laughed, I cried, I put it next to my bible.


Blessings!

Crisp Fall Day...

We went to a park (I don't know which one, of course, cuz that's how I roll...but it had trees, dirt, water, paths...ya know, normal "park" stuff. Chloe is looking old in this pic.

Heather's parents were in town for Ev's 8th birthday. I love this pic.

Can you believe they've been married for 123 years! Woah. I wonder why people don't stay married anymore. I mean, I know why, but I also know that something must still be broken in us. I mean, we are christians (most of us) people who are committed to making it work, to looking inside and getting things cleaned up and yet we are still at the same divorce rate as people who don't affilitate themselves with faith in God. Hmmm... anyway, this isn't supposed to be that kind of blog so I'll shut up and get back to the pics.

Aren't they cute though?!?!

Covered bridge

Favorite pic of the day. Being risky.

And Mimi. Always Mimi. Could she be cuter? If this dog dies, we are sunk!

Day Old Poetry

I found some of these on my computer. I love words...arranging them, using them, making them up... or just reading them. Love them.

Some of these are old and tired - some are attempts to use words in a new way - some are attempts to "get it out" and be done with it (one of these did this for me -see "To a Daydream Ending")

BUT...

...you are only allowed to read these if you promise to attempt a poem of your own in a blog post of your own (in the near future.) Afterall, it is national poetry month (no, it's not - but it should be, on the brink of fall and all.)

So read on, and then share some back.

Highway Questions
(written in the car, on the way home from my audition at Northview)
How does one white line
Stretch on for a million miles
(or seven years)
Without one question
About direction?

Its second cousin
Just ten feet left
Vacillates
He stops and starts
Like night and day
“Should I stay or go?”
Will it be rain or snow?

Second cousin takes my hand
To lead me home
(to Flushing?)
Or…To Indiana


25 Words
There are only
25 words
in this poem
And you will count them
How could you not?
But none of them
will be
about you

No Friend of Mine
Friends
Without hands
Are no friends of mine
They can’t even give me
A proper send off
Or wish me well
Or wave goodbye
("25 words" and "no friend..." were written together,
when I was mad at some people)


The Twinkling of an Eye
In the twinkling of an eye
In a moment
Things change
A man forgets to call
A hair turns white on the head of wisdom
A lover leaves to find his freedom

I left to find my freedom
A hair turns wisdom white on my head
And I’ll forget to call
And things will change
In a momentIn the twinkling of an eye


The Perfect Number 7
7 years old
6 teeth missing
5 year old sister
4 one more summer
3 women in my life
2 little girls
1 happy daddy


To A Daydream Ending
I apologized in a daydream today
It went very well
She forgave me
Understood where I was coming from
Invited me in for coffee

We drank from our cups like old friends
As if we had put it all behind us
I was relieved
And I sensed a reprieve
An official stay of execution

She was prettier than I remembered
I don’t know how I missed it
At our song and dance classes
Her furrowed brow, my contempt
Bloody in the eye of the beholder

But we put it all behind us
Got on like old friends
Toasted with Colombian, “To us”
“To a new beginning...”
“To a daydream ending.”


Speak Easy
(written at the restaurant, "Speak Easy" in Flushing, Michigan -on the eve of my 6 week sabbatical of what had been a rough and wonderful stay at NCC)
One day before the altar
The altar of myself
One day before I falter
I falter on myself
One day before I investigate
Investigate the evidence of six years past

It’s a cold case file
Matt Bays…
Case closed!
But now reborn

It’s Sunday
The modern day Sabbath
All your sins are known
But not atoned
But not alone
…either

I will be singing songs
From a George Michael album
“Freedom, I won’t let you down”
But nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen
The lessons I’ve learned
The lovers that were spurned?
The Jesus-crossed lovers

That betrayed me with a bull's hit lie
With a wink of the eye
With a pack it up
…and take my tithe

One day before my altar
One day before I falter
Before I believe
Before I am relieved

And send the cobwebbed messages to sleep
In the basement of St. Pious
To the end of all my grief
And I will speak easy
(and I was right)

Forgot Ames....bad Matt.

So how can I make it up to you Amy? Hope about 3 pics from different eras? Yep, great idea.

Ames - Class of 1979


Ames - Class of 1990

Ames - Class of 1963

My Yearbook

Well, I've been seeing this "My Yearbook" thing on facebook and have been cracking up at it. So I decided to "yearbook" a few of you who I know read this blog. I have laughed HARD while doing this tonight. Hope you enjoy it as much as I have!


Lil Kim - Class of 1956


The Laundress - Class of 1986

Katie - Class of 1984 -"Hee Hee!"

Wee - Class of 1968

Liller (June Cleaver) 1954

Lilly Pad - Class of 1970

Jen - Class of 1968

Krista - Class of 1987

Heather - Class of 197?

When exactly was this happening? Reminds me of Tommy Bradford on "Eight is Enough."

Beth - Class of 1955

Your Head Master - 1952

What I'm Going to Miss About Summer!

Getting Older...

There are a few things I've noticed about being in your 30s (well, late thirties).

1. When you jump down from something, hitting the ground feels much different than it did when I was 18. It used to feel like a slight jarring; but now feels as if I have strapped a small house to my back before jumping.
2. I have allergies that have come with age. Never had them until my late 20s. NONE! And now..ragweed. I spend most of the fall feeling like this...

3. I have white hairs in my beard now, and they are soft. I'm RE-learning to shave because apparently the way I shaved before is not good enough for them. They don't shave off unless you shave against the grain of the way they grown. So if I shave normal, I will end up with a little field of white hair all over my neck - retarded!
4. Hard heels. Had my very first pedicure last week. I think she had to use a belt sander.
5. Age spots...shouldn't those happen when I'm in my 90s. That was a surprise.
6. Hair in the ears - I'm obsessed with it... just ask Heather. Oh, and also very long eyebrows that I watch like a hawk.
7. Thicker toe nails. No more cheap clippers; they keep breaking.
8. Soundly sleeping seems to be over. Too much on the brain.

Of course there are plusses. I'm smarter, less selfish, a better person. Plus I'm starting to look like Pierce Brosnan. Seriously, that was a joke. Oh, that reminds me of something. I went to see "Mamma Mia" with some friends a couple weeks back and in the middle of it, one of my male friends says, "Isn't he handsome?" meaning Pierce Brosnan. And I think he's kidding cause guys aren't usually man enought to say things like this...but apparently, he is. And then he responds to my puzzled face with, "What? He is." It made me laugh. I love when people catch you off guard. I mean I would've expected this from a guy who was sort of "metro" you know, but this guy isn't metro...he's pure hetro. I tried to tease him about it later, but he didn't care...just kept saying, "Well, it's true."

Anway, what about you...anything you're noticing giving way in your 30s (or you're 20s really - i noticed crap them too.) Or how about your 40's. Tell me all about it. I'm listening.

A NEW Excerpt from the Book

Okay, so here's the little update. Sorry I've been so Blogligent but I've been SUPER focused on getting this book DONE!!! I have sent off for a copy and am going to be sifting through editing stuff over the next couple weeks. And then, probably mid-October, they will be ready. I'm pretty excited!!!

Oh, and our own little Beth Harris has done the author photo for the back cover. Heather saw the picture and said, "Did you photo shop in more hair?" Uh... maybe. No. Sheesh. Give me some credit.

Here's an excerpt from a chapter entitled...

"Addicted to God"



...I have to tell you, ten years ago if someone had told me I was addicted to God, I would’ve been proud. I would’ve thought it meant I was in the center of His will. I would’ve thought, “Right, and you’re not. That’s why I’m going to heaven, Loser.” But at twenty eight, when my wound started resurfacing, I did the “God is my all in all” thing for about two or three years, but to no avail. I read and prayed and praised and spiritualized, and nothing. I mean sure, I learned some stuff about God, but the pain was still there; killing me inside. My mentor, Jan, from twelve step, finally said this to me about all my praying and bible reading and whatnot. She said,

“So how’s that working for you?”

“It’s not,” I told her. So I decided to try something else. And that something was to let God take me on the wonderful, painful journey of facing my wounds, and to stop “using” Him to distract me from them.

I started participating in my twelve step meetings and began to let our group know how I really felt on the inside. And you know what they said every week?

“Keep coming Matt.”

And I did. Every week I went. And I stopped talking so much about how good God was and instead spent time talking about my hurts.

I finally asked God to show me what to do. Together, I felt like we got down on the ground in the woods with our fossil tools and brushed away the dirt covering my fossilized wound. I can picture Him on the ground with me; one hand picking at the hard earth, the other holding something to brush away the dirt. He would dig and then brush the excess dirt away. And then dig some more, and then brush more dirt away. Until finally He would begin to reveal a little bit more of the preserved remains of my wound. And pausing to get a closer look, He’d shake His head at it, because He would know that it never should have happened. And then He’d let me tell Him about it, listening intently as I would rant and rave to Him about how it wasn’t fair. And then I’d be mad at Him for allowing it to happen to me. He’d never chastise me for being mad, and definitely not say, “I’ll work it out for the good,” as if this scripture was some kind of spiritual loophole for the nightmare I had lived with. Instead, He would be sad about it. He would tell me He was sorry for the pain I had carried all these years.

He would make sure I knew that when I was ready, He would do something about it. He would carry out the process of healing me and making me whole.

And then He would show me how to live with Him. He’d show me the difference between living with Him and using Him. Never in a hurry, He’d take all the time I needed, possibly a lifetime. But knowing I wouldn’t have to be “over it,” that I wouldn’t have to be anything but who I am, is what would keep me moving forward; and what would finally have me replacing the pain, with Him, for the first time.

Olympic Weird-nesses...

If it's true that they used the girl on the left to lip sync during the opening ceremonies, that is just a little sad. Word is, the girl on the right is the actual voice but wasn't "cute" enough to be displayed during the opening events. But no worries...I'm sure that won't stick with her FOREVER!!!

Why did they just put a little make on it and make it sing. Sheesh! China... C'mon!


Okay....don't judge me. But last night when this hit the screen, I said out loud, "I don't get how a boy gets to compete with the girls." And yes, I really meant it. It is 2008 after all, and I thought it was one of those thingys where there's a girl on the boys wrestling team or something. Nope, just little old (she's 33) Oksana. She took home the silver for Germany and has a pretty amazing story you can read here.

She fell and beat out Alicia Sacramone? C'mon now China. What's up?!?! Also, did anyone see her let out that big giant "YALP!" before she ran down for vault number two. Weird. Heather and I were rolling. What was that?

The medalists all together. I think Okasana looks a little like Harry Potter here...minus his glasses.

Mike and the Nakies

For real -someone tell me why Michael Phelps and all his comrades are wearing my mother's bikini bottoms Circa DE 1977.

"Because they're testing new swimsuits in an Australian study to see if they're aerodynamic."

Really? I don't think so. How exactly would having the suit 2 inches above your business, make you swim faster? Right, it wouldn't. Just ask my mom. She could barely swim in hers 30 years ago and she can barely swim in her one piece with a skirt now. I mean C'mon!

We had a houseful the other night and were watching "Michael and the Nakey Nakey Boys" get their victory for the 4X100 relay, and when I mentioned their suits to our company (everyone is thinking it, no one is saying it)- everyone groaned. Is America groaning? Is God? :) I think America is groaning and should take a stand.

When I was in college, I was at a basketball game where a kid from the other team didn't have his basketball jersey tucked in. So we all chanted "Tuck in yer shirt, Tuck in yer shirt!" for about 30 minutes. We took small breaks here and there, but our tenacity paid off and our college erupted with a deafening cheer when he finally surrendered to our chant, and tucked in his shirt.

Could we do this with Michael? Could we chant, "put on your pants" or "pull down yer shirt?" and get him to comply? If I were in Beijing I swear I'd start recruiting some folks; some good ole Americans to clear their throats and sing. And if the Mike and the Nakies didn't comply, we'd throw very large swim trunks from the stands... maybe some knickers.

What can I say...I'm a socially active kind of guy. Anyway, this had to be called out.

Ahhhh... there we go. I feel much better.

FACT:

Fact:
This first day of school can stick it!

Fact:
August is STILL SUMMER!

Fact:
School starts tomorrow and it shouldn't!

Fact:
Our ice cream social/get acquainted with our teachers thingy tonight, served ice cream sandwiches. And they were small!

Fact:
I want them HOME!

Fact:
Their new haircuts are cute.

Fact:
Their teachers better be nice.

Fact:
I'm sad that they are getting old, and letting go sucks.

Fact:
But that's life, isn't it?

Fact:

They don't look like this anymore. Sigh...

Open for Business!!!

Wee... is open for business people. Check it out here!

Chained to a Split Rail Fence

I've been thinking over the last few days. Sometimes we do things not good for us. I have. All of us have. Sometimes we struggle to stop those things. Well, I guess most of the time we try. So there are a few undercurrents in my own life, that I have somehow managed to row away from, and have since found myself floating down the lazy river and REALLY REALLY enjoying the sun.

How?

Well, a thought occurred to me. (And if you know me at all, you know I'm not all "christiany" in that "christian" way, where I say things like "I just gave it to God; I let go and I let God; I put it at the sweet feet of Jesus." These are all things that certainly have their place in the world, and in the faith. But in my experience, I found that MOST of the people who say things like this, or who have said things like this (me) are just filling up their world with anecdotal noise.)

Okay...so...on we go.

I have believed that it was possible for God to save me from this world for about 19 years. And I've been gaining ground on what this means ever since I first started to believe this was actually true. So over the last 19 years, I've struggled to let go of things that have entrapped me and have ruined significant years of my life. But as these 19 years have passed, and as I've pressed on and really worked HARD (especially in my 30s -which just happens to be the years that our little friend "denial" runs out of steam and stops doing his job) I have found it easier (not easy like butterflies and rated G movies) to let go of the things that had been holding me at gunpoint.

And so I was thinking, "How come I've been able to let this go? How come? Am I just good? Am I strong? Am I a great christian? Is my faith in God stronger than others?"

It's a good question if you think about it. It's actually a great question. How come I have somehow overcome something that seems to be UN-overcomeable to other people; including other believers? Of course there are many answers to this. I've often wondered how my brother (when he was still alive) quit smoking, cold turkey; assuming that it must have been because God just took the desire from him because he had NO will power, and would never have been able to do it on his own. Especially when it has taken some people 5 years to quit. My step mom "quit" smoking about 14 times over the last 14 years, but still snags one here and there as stress mounts. So what then? How have I been able to do it, when others haven't?

Because I have learned what bondage is, and I DON'T LIKE IT!

Not "don't like it" in the way I don't like a pair of shoes or a bad haircut. Not at all. I'm talking about a "don't like it" in the way I don't like a sexual predator that has abused my child. I don't like it because it has robbed me of good living, and has choked me out and left me overwhelmed, tired, unmanageable, confused, anxious...

CONSUMED!

I don't like bondage. I hate it! I've had some very clear moments where I've realized just how much it has taken from me, and then saw what it had left me chained to. And it is THIS knowledge that has given me the will power to change.

So I guess for me, it looks like this: I'd run to the ends of the earth to rescue my child from an evil person. I'd give whatever it took to get their life back for them. I'd do anything!!! And so would you...right? But for so many years (sound familiar?) I had NOT done the same for myself. Like a kidnapped child I had been carried off by sin, chained to a split rail fence like Matthew Shepard, and left for dead. And all this time, I never realized it had gotten this bad. I didn't know that I'd been left out in the cold to die. And because I didn't realize just how serious it was, I didn't call out an APB, and I didn't get the authorities involved, and I didn't assemble my friends into a search party and send them out to find me. But this year, I did.

And now I've been rescued. I've been changed. (really) And I'm free.