matangulo

[matangulo]

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[matangulo]

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Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[matangulo]

uncommon

Over the years I’ve fooled myself into believing that the prerequisite of community is compatibility; that in order to forge strong relationships with others I must first, relate strongly to them.

But what I’m finding is that real community extends beyond commonality. Real community is uncommon. It crosses boundaries. It breaks down barriers. It looks awkward from the outside-in.

You know that odd couple at the mall that you scratch your head at? The one that doesn’t seem to make any sense to you. The one you mutter about under your breath saying, “they don’t belong together.” I want to be known for having that type of circle; for having incompatible company that somehow just “worked out.”

Jesus’ community was a lot like that. It was ill-fitting. It was a hodgepodge of vastly different characters. Prostitutes and fishermen, lepers and lame men, the rich and the poor, the young and the old, doubters and dummies, the bashful and the boisterous, the scholarly and the unschooled, sinners and tax-collectors (who apparently were worse than sinners), and even a member of the religious-rite who was as left-brain-a-thinker as one could be (Nicodemus).

Yet Jesus unashamedly called them to His circle. By name. And they became friends. They embodied the Kingdom He preached about. They became the manifest message of heaven.

I’ve always marveled at His ability to connect with others even when there was seemingly no connection point at the onset. He had a magnetic ability to draw people from all walks of life to start walking with Him and keep walking with Him. And He did so effortlessly. How?

He noticed people. Jesus saw things, felt things, and noticed things that others walked past. The Samaritan woman at the well who was hiding her shame in plain sight during the sixth hour of the day (Luke 4). Jesus noticed her. Zacchaeus, the miniature thug tax-collector hiding out in a tree, hoping to escape another round of hate-filled words from those he had wronged (Luke 19). Jesus noticed him. The woman who was subject to bleeding for a decade, who doctors had given up on and society had written off (Matt 9). He noticed her. The blind man who was rejected from birth and deemed a sinner because of his defect (John 9). Jesus noticed him. Yes, He wanted them to know that He had come to save them, but even before that, He wanted them know that He could see them. What’s interesting to note is that Jesus was usually surrounded by crowds. But He never allowed the crowd to cloud His vision. People were his prerogative. People mattered. His eyes and His heart were always open to those who would cross paths with Him.

He showed genuine interest in others’ stories before speaking. He was the Son of God. You’d think He’d want dibs on the mic. Instead, He willingly gave it up. He invited others to share from their experience and He entered into their stories. He listened to their perspectives, their concerns, their needs and their values. He ascribed value and dignity to them through interest. Maybe the lack we sense towards our community stems from our eagerness to share our own experience and our unwillingness to experience others’. Dale Carnegie said it best when he penned, “You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.” Jesus was intentionally interested.

He shared stories that they could understand to connect them to a need they didn’t know they had.  Therefore I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand (Matt 13:13). Story is the most powerful force we possess. The human mind is wired for it, in fact. When a speaker tells a story it causes certain emotions to be activated in their mind. Research suggests that those same areas and emotions are activated in the listener’s mind when they hear a story. What that suggests is that there are more than words being exchanged through our stories, there are worlds being exchanged. I’m giving you access to feel what I’ve felt, to experience what I’ve experienced, to live (if only for a moment) in my skin through story. Jesus’ leveraged this common, accessible part of the human experience to share His heavenly experience. His perspective was the Kingdom. He articulated the mysteries of heaven through the medium of stories that others understood...and they were hooked. We shy away from sharing our stories because we feel like others won’t connect with them. We’re so different than them that they’ll think we’re crazy. They’ll never understand. But maybe by assuming that our stories make us aliens, we are alienating ourselves from rich, transcendent community.

He invited them to follow Him even before they believed in Him. Jesus had every right to force people to live righteously before following Him. Holiness and unholiness don’t walk hand-in-hand. He had every right to make sure people were fully bought-into Him before following Him. He would buy salvation for them with His life after all. He had every right to make conversion a mandatory prerequisite to His “calling” of the disciples. But Jesus was so confident in who He was that He traded the notion of conversion for conversation. He traded perfection for a process. Faith is born of following; it is developed over time. Jesus was confident enough to let people believe well after He allowed them to belong. He was okay to let them learn along the way. Like the lepers who were healed “as they went,” (Luke 17:14) Jesus let people become whole at their own pace. He had an uncommon community because He allowed them to come as they were: broken, bedraggled, burdened, bashful, and unbelieving, and He lived so gracefully that they became whole as they walked with Him.

He saw others as prizes, not as projects. As someone who’s grown up in church most of my life, I’ve subconsciously been hardwired to see others as my mission. This isn’t a bad thing. Jesus told us to “go and make disciples...” (Matt 28:19). The mission is certainly clear. However, if we aren’t careful we can make a dangerous assumption. We can easily assume that people are projects to be worked on instead of prizes to be won. With every word He spoke and every action He took, Jesus sought to woo us and win us over with love. We are His greatest prize, not just another “to-do” on the punchlist. It was the artist Michelangelo who said, “Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” Jesus didn’t come to fix us, He came to find us. Loving us wasn’t “work” that He regrettably endured, it was a joyful discovery. Paul’s words to the church in Thessalonica convey this concept so clearly: We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too. What if we started seeing others as a prize to be won? Maybe they’d never come to faith. Maybe they’d never believe what we believe. Maybe they’d never agree with our worldview. But maybe they’d know that they were loved and valued above any of those things. And maybe that’d be enough.

Years ago, I wrote a series of questions that I still find myself wrestling with today: Have you ever paused to think about the danger in your distance from difference? What do you really gain from surrounding yourself with sameness? What do you miss out on while neglecting those who are different than you? What do they miss out on because you refuse to engage with them? If I spend myself building a circle comprised only of those who look like me, sound like me, talk like me and think like me then have I really gained “community” at all? Or have I only gained more of...myself?  

It’s time for us to embrace the idea of an uncommon community; making connections with misfitting ends. We pray His Kingdom come and His will be done. But if you study the life and the teachings of Jesus, you’ll find that the Kingdom He spends His life talking about is significantly more diverse than we think it to be. Let’s go out and find it. Let’s go out and be it.

[matangulo]

This Is It

You won't get this back... A new morning. The pitter-patter of a three-year old's feet heading your direction to break the stillness. Your one year old's gentle whimper as she wakes; the suddenness of outstretched arms that greet you as you peer in. You won't get this back... The seven layers you force them into as you transfer them into a slowly warming car. The fact that it took you nearly seven hours to place those seven layers on them. The inevitability of you spending approximately seven bone-chillingly cold minutes searching for at least four of those layers in your car that have been removed in transit. You won't get this back... "Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin..." "Guys, please keep your hands to yourselves." "Hey diddle-diddle the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the..." "I know you need more water buddy (you've told me seven times now), but you'll have to be patient and wait until we stop." "STOP! Red means stop, green means go." You won't get this back... Play dough in the mixer. Legos in the car hitch. Hangers and chip clips connecting trains. Crayons on the wall. Toothbrushes in toilets. Canned goods in laundry baskets. Shoes...well, only God knows where they could be. You won't get this back... Three course meals comprised of high-chair shimmying, not-so-silent protests, and convoluted stories ranging from dinosaur trains to Spanish colors. Failed attempts to convince them that they really do want to become honorary members the prestigious Clean Plate Club. Bribing them when that doesn't work. Realizing with each step you take thereafter that your floors have been transformed into a war zone full of blueberry land mines. You won't get this back... "Daddy, will you play with me?" "Daddy, can you build a train track?" "Daddy, can we go outside?" "Daddy, can we go inside?" "Daddy, can you go downstairs with me?" "Daddy can you be Goliath again?" "Daddy can we watch a movie?" "Daddy..." "Daddy?" "Daddy!" "Daddy can you make popcorn?" "PAWP-cone. PAWP-cone. PAWP-cone." "Daddy, can you hold my hand?" At night. Across the street. "While I go potty..." You won't get this back... Bubbles in the bathtub. Water on the floor. Soap in the eyes. The trauma of a simple hair rinse and the post-traumatic stress that you develop from said hair rinse. Mastering the art of transferring pint-size shivering humans into footie pajamas before they become ornery meteorologists. You won't get this back... Books you have memorized. Books you should have memorized, but the pages turned before you got that far. Books you chose to author yourself because there were too many words on each page and well...they won't know the difference. You won't get this back... Bedtime prayer requests. Interrupted prayers. Hugs, kisses, and eleventh hour stories they forgot to tell. The realization that they have fallen asleep and the hope that they'll stay asleep. Game-planning for if they don't. The warm embrace from the person who shares this responsibility alongside of you each and every day and the joy you feel in that moment. You won't get this back... Listen, I get it. You're tired. You've had a long day at work. You've got a million projects to work on around the house. The car is a mess. You forgot to finish something up at the office. The driveway is covered in snow. You could really use a full night of sleep this time. Life feels a little out of whack. You feel like you've gained weight. You look a little older than you did yesterday, or maybe it wasn't yesterday...you can never remember. You can't catch your breath. You just need to decompress; "zone out", "check out", "have some alone time", "unwind." But you won't get this back... None of it. You know that, don't you? So why not be awake for every moment of it? Why not take it ALL in? Why not be fully HERE? Why not be fully ALIVE? Why not be PRESENT today? Because maybe, when all is said and done, you'll get more back than you could have ever wished for.

[matangulo]

tipping the word scale

Like any good writer or communicator, God will often use repetition to drive home a point of emphasis. He does so intentionally and creatively, using a wide variety of mediums: scripture, conversations, messages, music etc. One author has (quite beautifully) dubbed this repetition “the sacred echo.” I love that verbiage. It’s accurate, fresh and vivid.

So what has the sacred echo in my life been as of late?

There have been many (I’m sure you’ll hear about them soon). But chief among the echoes, has been the subject of words; the power that each one holds. 

Proverbs 18:21 reminds us that the tongue can bring death or life. That’s a startling statement...especially when you consider how flippant most of us can be with the words that we utter. Go ahead, think back on some of the words you said throughout your day today...to others, about others, to yourself (under your breath), about yourself or the circumstances that you’re facing. Of the many words you uttered, how many were infused with life? How many were…well, void of life? 

Scary, isn’t it?

If I’m honest, on most days my “word scale” tips more towards death than life. That’s especially hard to admit, considering I know what scripture says about the origin of our words...#StraightOuttaTheHeart (Luke 6:45). Negative words often reflect a defeated heart. Sarcastic words often reflect a bitter heart. Angry words often reflect a hurting heart. And the list goes on and on. Words are water drawn from a deeper well. Water is refreshing when it’s purified, but repulsive when it’s contaminated.

Though I’m nowhere near perfect when it comes to my words, I’ve determined that I want to be known as someone who brings forth good water; nourishing, life-sustaining and refreshing. I want to be a life-giving fountain (Proverbs 10:11). My guess is that you want the same thing. 

So how do we get there? How do we tip the word scale towards life? How do we clean up the well?

Here’s my take:

1) Honestly evaluate. Look back on this past week and recount the conversations that you’ve had with others. Study the words that you exchanged and the tone in which you exchanged them. Also, consider the statements that you’ve made about yourself or the circumstances that you’re facing. What trends do you see? 

2) Consider the source. As basic as this is, we often neglect to do it. Our words are always influenced by what we allow to infiltrate our minds and our hearts. Ask yourself, “who or what have I been listening to most?” and “are they a life-giving fountain themselves”?

3) Wear the Word. What if before you even took your first step out of bed tomorrow, you spoke the truth of God’s Word over yourself, your family, your circumstances, and your day? What if this became your new attire? The Word of God trumps every word that will be spoken to you or about you. From it we derive our identity and our purpose. Play the trump card. Wear the Word and you’ll inevitably begin to speak out words of life.

4) Believe the best. It’s amazing how dramatically different our words can look when we stop assuming that others have bad intentions. 

5) Draw a hard line. Know what is off limits to talk about. If you know a certain subject will lead you down a slippery slope and cause you to speak deadly words, quickly locate the exit sign. Don’t entertain what you’ve determined to refrain from. 

6) Add by subbing. As a husband and parent, I’ve drawn a hard line with the words I say about my wife and kids. I’ve determined not to label them as anything other than what God has said about them. I’ve chosen to substitute words that carry negative connotations for words that carry the image of God. “Hyper” or “Crazy” are words we try not to use in our house. We’ve subbed those out with “Passionate” or “Energetic.” These are words that add value and worth to those who hear them because they better reflect Christ. 

7) Mind your T’s. You can say the right words at the wrong time and they can sound like the wrong words. You can say the right words with the wrong tone and they can sound like the wrong words. 

8) Embrace the prophetic. When you become conscious of the fact that God actually wants to impart words of life to you to give to others and you welcome that, you become less concerned with the words that you have to say. 

9) Choose the proper medium. Know that certain words ought not be sent over text, email or any other medium that leaves room for misunderstanding. 

10) Shhh… Know that sometimes, it’s just better not to say anything.

Again, I’m no expert in this area. I’ll be the first to admit that. But I have become increasingly aware of the sacred echo. God has been challenging me to be better in this area and I am committed to doing so. My hope is that you’d consider joining me in the process of growth. My prayer is that you’d begin to tip the word scale towards life. 

[matangulo]

transit

Life is a port and I am in transit.

I arrive by departing. I depart by arriving.

I land as I launch. I launch as I land.

Life is a port and I am in transit.

I come as I go. I go as I come to myself.

I receive as I respond. I respond as I receive.

Life is a port and I am in transit

[matangulo]

stalled?

Indecision and doubt can be a debilitating duo. Sadly, I have to admit I’ve dragged these two along with me for most of my life. Come to think of it, it’s actually been the other way around; they’ve done most of the dragging.

You might be familiar with this drag yourself. It manifests itself in a cycle. Hesitation precedes commitment, and a flurry of worry follows. Worry becomes doubt and doubt causes indecision. Before you know it, you’re back at square one.

Round and round you go...

This cycle has robbed me of a lot of life and a lot of time. In its wake, it’s left nothing but could have’s and should have’s; missed opportunities and piles of undue stress. In an effort to make all of the right moves, I’ve often stalled movement altogether. 

But what I’ve learned is that nothing wears on the soul of a man like a worn out break pedal. Whiplash hurts more than motion sickness. 

So how do I break the cycle? How do I dodge the duo of indecision and doubt? How do I stop stalling and start moving forward?

Here’s my take:

1) Start somewhere. Remember that the pain of going nowhere will always outweigh the pain of starting somewhere. Make a decision today; small or large.

2) Shift your focus from making the right decision to moving in the right direction. Sometimes it takes a lot of wrong, right things to get to the right, right thing. If your direction is right, you’ll eventually arrive where you need to. 

3) Realize that God speaks in patterns. Every decision you’ll wrestle through, you’ve wrestled with before. Look for themes. God has a knack for repeating Himself. Consider this a gift, not something to gripe about. He isn’t trying to nag, He’s trying to direct. 

4) Remove failure from the equation. Learn to ask yourself the question, “If failure wasn't an option, what would I do?” 

5) Don’t take yourself so seriously. Contrary to popular belief, God isn’t relying on you to hold His plans together. Step back. Look up. Realize how small you are and how much bigger He is. 

6) Be bless-able. When you make a decision in faith (saying, “perhaps the Lord will help us”), it gives God the opportunity to bless it. If He wants to, He will. But if you do nothing, why should you expect God to do something?

Listen, I get it. Decisions are hard to make and doubts are bound to emerge. I don't want to oversimplify the struggle. But haven't we spent enough time overcomplicating it? What if we started to accept the fact that we were created to create, not simply to deliberate? What if today we chose the gas pedal over the breaks? What could happen if we went out and made something happen?

Maybe we’d be right or maybe we’d be wrong. But both of those options sound better than being stalled.

[matangulo]

this could be it

Life is short. I’m becoming increasingly aware of that each day that passes. It also comes with no guarantees. Today (this very moment) could be it…the “it” we all know will inevitably come, but we will inevitably neglect.

That said, I’m done excusing away the life I really want to live. I’m done wishing and waiting for a ticket to the land of realized dreams. No more vicarious me. Because to live that way is to never live at all.

I’m a mist, yes. But I’m not about to miss out.

So today, this moment (the only one I’m guaranteed), I’m choosing to do something I love. I’m choosing to write; to spill myself out on a blank canvas again. I’m embracing the thrill, and the pain of the process. I’m embarking on a journey inward that always seems to spill outward. Not just today, but every day that I am afforded.

Because life is short. This could really be it. And if it is, I want to go out winded; knowing that I ran hard and well.

I’d rather die as a dreamer than let my dreams die.

Come take a ride with me, won't you? Live in this moment. Do that one thing you'd do if this was really it.

[matangulo]

the sower.

This life—the Life we’ve come to know—is a great paradox, a forest laden with mystery. We are, still we have yet to become. We have, still we have endless riches to amass We know, still our minds grow dull in angst We’ve touched, still only the fringes of Glory’s cloak We’ve glimpsed, still for a moment only the hind side of Hope Yet for all that we have yet to be, all that we have yet to see, all that is but is yet gained. For this, we sow in Jesus’ name. Standing, hidden, yet still in plain view: this life—the Life we long to know—is within our reach. Can you see it? Sacred wonder calls—beckons us ever forward, whispers, “Come.” “Steal away with Me” So we advance, hearts brimming with expectancy. We advance, ignoring the gravity that is complacency. We advance, dodging grenade-shaped excuses. We advance, cutting ties with the dead weight of our past. We advance, into the beautiful depths of this blood-stained—love stained—mystery. For all that we have yet to be, all that we have yet to see, all that is but is yet gained. For this, we sow in Jesus’ name. For all that we have yet to be, all that we have yet to see, all that is but is yet gained. For this, we sow in Jesus’ name.

[matangulo]

move.

Why won't you just fix this? Can't you just do your job? I thought you were supposed to be God...

Sound familiar? As uncensored and ugly as they may sound, you've thought those types of thoughts and even prayed those types of prayers before (under your breath, of course). We've all been there: wishing so badly that things could just change while blaming God for His apparent neglect. 

But maybe our blame has been misplaced. Maybe we've gotten things twisted. Could it be that our unchanged reality has less to do with God's inability or unwillingness and more to do with our inactivity?

What I see in scripture is a God who is always looking for active participation from His people. He has a knack for inviting us to author change with Him:

Moses, "go, for I am sending you to Pharaoh." 

Joshua, "go and possess the land." 

Lepers, "go and show yourselves to the priests and be healed."

Lame man at the pool of Bethesda, "pick up your mat and walk."

People mourning Lazarus' death, "roll the stone aside."

The list could go on…but you get the point.

God rarely just changes things on His own. That's not to say that He can’t or that He won’t. He’d just prefer not to. He's far more interested in allowing us to be co-creaters with Him. With God, there’s always an invitation accompanying an inheritance, always a motion accompanying a miracle, always a rolled stone accompanying a resurrection, and always faith accompanying fruition.

Why won't He just fix it, change it, end it, mend it, do it or fill-in-the-blank-it? 

Because although He could change our circumstances, He's far more concerned with changing us. His priority is our progress, not always our arrival. He is faithful and able to give, but He is dedicated to seeing our faith grow. So maybe the question isn't "why won't you change IT, God?" Maybe the question is, "how can I participate in the change that you wish to produce in ME, God?"

Identify your role role. Take responsibility. Move. When you do, perhaps He might as well. And if not, you might still find that something has been moved within you. 

[matangulo]

tainted paint.

The curious thing about a dream

is that it paints new life.

Its vibrant hues are often used

to shade today with strife.

[matangulo]

vicarious me.

Vicarious Me how could it be,

you let your dreams pass by.

You paid the price to live their life,

a walking suicide.

[matangulo]

Cursing Cursor

If I had a dollar for every time I've signed in to this blog to write something over the last year, let's just say I'd be making it rain right now. Not George's or Abes either. But every time I've pulled up a blank page, there he is staring back at me...

The blinking cursor, doing what he does best…

cursing at me:

You again? What are YOU doing here?

You think you're a writer?

You really think someone's going to take the time to read this? Think again.

You've got nothing valuable to add to anyone's life right now.

You've got nothing new to say…it's all just stolen goods.

You're just wasting your time.

Your life is boring. That means your story is too. Come back when you've lived a better life.

You're just not as good of a writer as [insert name of most recent blogger, author or pastor I've read].

God can't use you right now. You missed [insert failed spiritual discipline] for the last [insert number of days said discipline has been missed].

But I'm done with his profanities. His R-rated language has been reminiscent of The Boondock Saints (if you don't know that reference, don't look it up. If you do, don't ask how I know). 

Today, I'm breaking the curse of the cursing cursor. 

Today, I'm moving beyond the fear of being rejected, the insecurity of not being heard, and the addiction of approval. 

Today, I'm writing out of sheer obedience. Although the cursing cursor may seek to tell me that I'm not a ten talent writer, thinker or blogger, today I'll respond with:

I'm just going to be faithful with what I do have.

I'm just going to write something. 

So curse you, cursor!

[matangulo]

Awake, O Dreamer.

I married a dreamer. My wife dreams God-sized dreams. She writes them down then stands back and watches as God amazes her by making them reality. I love that about her. I love that about God.

God has used her greatly to teach me about dreams. 

Here are a few things I've learned:

If you aren't dreaming, you're dying. I'm convinced that discontentment is directly related to a lack of dreaming. Like water from wells, dreams are drawn from the depths of us and they often nourish us. They provide hope with a picture of "what could be" and shed light on "what is". Without hope, we die. If we aren't dreaming, we're dying.

Sometimes you live in the dream. Sometimes you live in the drab. Life is chalk-full of drab (mundane, necessary, routine rhythms that you cannot control). If you're not careful, you can assume that if you're living in the drab you're somehow failing or missing out on something better; the dream. Learn to live in the drab with confidence that you will see your dream. Learn to live in your dream with knowledge that it will contain some drab.

Dream in detail. Resist the temptation to dream vague dreams. It's not enough to dream of a day that you are "more spiritual","in shape", or "successful". That's grayscale dreaming. Dream in color and the picture comes to life. Dream specifics and you're more likely to see your dream realized.

Seeing your dream will result in seeing your dream. Simple. Practical. Foundational. Write your dream out and keep it in a place that you will see every day. The more you see it, the more likely you are to see it. It motivates. It encourages. It inspires. Write it down. Live it out.

Tell someone else. Resist the temptation to withhold your dreams from others. I get it. It's scary. Joseph was thrown in a pit and left to die when he shared his dreams with his own brothers. But he saw his dream come true in the end, didn't he? Often we don't see dreams come true because we're too scared to tell others. But we can never know what role others may play in making our dreams come true. After all, it was the pit that led to the palace for Joseph. He would have never gotten there had it not been for his (caring?) brothers.

Be willing to fail. Sometimes you'll dream dreams that when realized, don't seem so dreamy. Sometimes you'll take a risk while holding onto the thread of a dream...and fall flat on your face. Understand that every dream leads to another dream. Motion often brings clarity. And obedience and perseverance are more valuable than prominence. Embrace the pit and you'll see the palace.

Pray. Pray. Pray. Enough said. 

Work your "but" off. Before there was a realized dream there was a list of excuses. Exercise resistance often. Practice the discipline of speaking life into your dream and speaking death over your excuse.

Bite-sized is King-sized. Stop thinking your dream is too small and insignificant. Don't determine how big your dream is before God does. He has a reputation. Look up the stats. Bite-sized becomes King-sized when placed in his hands.

[matangulo]

Different.

Who do you currently have in your life whose life looks nothing like your life? Feel free to re-read that question.

If you're like me, you have to think long and hard to try and answer that one.  The truth is, I live in a bubble with many sub-bubbles of that bubble.

My guess is that you might too. You, like me, gravitate towards what is common; what is safe and what comes freely. We like it that way, don't we? We enjoy relationships that seem effortless with people who "just understand" us.

But have you ever paused to think about the detriment in your distance from difference? What do you really gain from surrounding yourself with sameness? What do you miss out on while neglecting those who are different than you? What do they miss out on because you refuse to engage with them?

//

I sat across a table from someone this weekend who wore different shoes than me. Very different. I felt awkward. It was uncomfortable to say the least. It was like standing in a boxing ring of contrasting world views. In the red corner: a 24-year-old youth pastor who lives in the midwest, has grown up in and around church his whole life, and is a notorious rule-follower. In the blue corner: a 24-year-old lawyer from England who lives in New York City, has studied every world religion and is a self-proclaimed "liquor lover".

What did we have in common? Nothing. But we talked for about an hour. I'll spare you the details of our conversation, but it ranged from sushi to gay-marriage, from atheism to couch surfing and indie music to cocktails. 

I learned a lot in those brief moments we shared together. Surprisingly, my greatest learnings weren't surrounding the subject matter but rather, myself. 

How quick I am to judge.

How defensive I can be.

How often I feel the need to have an answer and how similarly, I dislike the idea of being uncertain about things regarding faith.

How far removed I've become from the world in which I live.

How little I wrestle with what I claim to believe.

The list could go on and on but I think you get the point.

Someone completely different than me whom I had never met prior to this experience showed me more about myself in one hour than I would have learned in months being around those whom I share commonality with. It's incredible what we can learn when we stop looking at mirrors and start looking through windows. 

I wonder how many of these types of conversations I've missed. I (regretfully) wonder how much I've left undiscovered...

What about you?

//

This is more a hunch than a foundational belief, but I think we'd see a much clearer picture of God and ourselves if we consciously gazed at this extremely diverse world, full of people who are different than us more often. 

Maybe it could just start with one person; one conversation even. So I ask again: who do you know in your life whose life looks nothing like your life? Sit down at a table with them this week. I dare you.

[matangulo]

Beauty in the Mundane.

A wise person once told me to "embrace the mundane." I'm almost certain that that wise person was my wife. The wisdom in that statement is that the mundane moments of life are often more present than the adventurous ones. Sometimes you'll live in the dream, but most often you'll live in the drab. To embrace the mundane is to embrace the largest part of life; to find the life that is hidden within life.

I wonder how many of these moments I allow to slip by; how much life I fail to extract from life while awaiting my train to arrive and take me toward what I perceive to be life. Probably more than I care to know about.

I would venture to say that I'm not alone on this one. We're all cut from the same fabric in this regard. We crave the adventure of a lifetime instead of living a lifetime of adventure.

But can I challenge you today to embrace the life in life? Like the citrus in an orange, can I challenge you to squeeze life out of what seems lifeless today? You may just find that the taste is actually something vibrant?

This blog provides nothing new; nothing you've never read before. It's simple. But the simplest things are often the hardest for us to grasp. Try to grasp it today. Learn to love the little things. It's the little things that will equal the larger picture of your life.

[matangulo]

Sharing is Caring.

Church leaders, I want you to be honest with yourselves for a moment. When was the last time you really cared about people? Really? Don't want to answer that one? Okay--I get it.

If it'll help you to point the finger at someone else on this one, I will volunteer...but I hope that as I write my experience with honesty that it reflects like a mirror.

The truth is, I always wanted an excuse. And ministry fit the bill perfectly. What better way was there to avoid caring for people than to sit in an office all day talking about ways to care for people, thinking about systems to care for people and creating programs to care for people? What better way was there to avoid actually engaging with and discovering people's pain than to prompt them with a message designed to pull that out of them? That would almost make it seem like you'd been there day after day unfolding it with them as they lived it. It would almost make it seem like you cared. The perfect disguise. Genius.

It sounds sick when I re-read that last paragraph. I cringe looking at it. But it's sadly, true. I minister from an ivory tower. I spend my days drumming up philosophies about how to meet needs I don't care to actually understand. I sell my philosophies in programatic packaging. And it all works at convincing people that I care.

But when I was a kid I was sold the idea that sharing is caring... Sharing. When was the last time I shared life with someone I was "ministering" to? Have I ever?

I'm convinced that what made Jesus' ministry so compelling was that he wasn't afraid to share. He didn't lead people to Himself from a royal seat in the clouds. He made himself nothing and dwelt among them. He shared life with people as they knew life to be. And guess what; people flocked.

When was the last time you climbed down from the ivory tower and took a walk in your city? When was the last time you truly engaged with people where they live? When was the last time you made it a point to not state your point about someone's pain? When was the last time you cared? Really?

Maybe you should try to answer.

"We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God's Good News but our own lives, too." 1 Thessalonians 2:8 (NLT)