Chapter 02: The Bible and Other Books

In the previous chapter we talked about how a prophet came to my church and inspired six-year-old me to be and do great things. Have you been where I was? You attended a seminar, conference, or retreat and came back feeling empowered? How long did it last? Most people walk away feeling different, but it tends to fizzle out.

• Someone prayed over me. I felt empowered. When they were gone, I felt alone.
• I read a book. I felt confident. When I tried the same things, I felt inept.
• I went to a retreat. I felt peace. When I went home my life became chaos.

Life seems full of events where we get fired up for a short period of time. Then we come back down to the reality that life does not meet our expectations. When we get in contact with the spiritual or the divine, we get a sort of “contact high.” After time, it fades, and we face the cruel reality that life hasn’t changed — we have.

How can we keep from having a sugar crash at the end of the spiritual rainbow? We can go to one spiritual retreat every year and stay energized by leeching off others. We take that spiritual high home. Then we hold onto it until reality crushes our joy out of us. We see how long we can last until the last light of hope flickers out. I’ve tried that, and it feels like trying to hold your breath underwater. What’s worse is that sometimes you don’t even make it a week.

In the Bible, Moses didn’t even make it one day. Consider this story from Exodus 24-30. I’ve shortened it for ease of reading.

Moses and looked up and saw the God of Israel on the mountain. He stood on a beautiful blue pavement as bright as the sky. God said to Moses “come up on the mountain and I will give you stone tablets with the law and commandments.” As Moses went up the mountain, the glory of the Lord settled like a dense fog on the mountain. The Lord spoke to Moses for days, and wrote on the stone tablets with his own finger. While Moses was on the mountain, the people below said “we don’t know if this Moses fellow is coming back! Let’s make a golden calf as our god.” God gave the tablets to Moses, who turned and went down the mountain carrying the tablets. When he reached the bottom and saw the golden calf his anger burned against the people. He threw the tablets, dashing them to pieces on the ground.

When the prophet came to our church and told me that God had a purpose for me, it gave me a spiritual high. I was dizzy with anticipation of what would happen. I already read my Bible every morning, but I started reading three times a day. In addition to my reading, I started journaling my Bible reading.

I started going around the neighborhood telling people about Christ and how they needed a personal relationship with him. My information wasn’t necessarily helpful, but I wanted to do everything I could. Many of us have had missionaries come knock on our door and insist we listen to them tell us about God. I was that guy, but at 6 years old.

Most people probably know what trick-or-treat is. It’s a holiday where kids go out at night dressed as scary things like ghosts. They knock on doors and ask people for candy by saying “Trick or treat!” Sometimes the people in the houses dress up to play along.

My Dad took me trick-or-treating in October. The day had been warm, but as the night settled a chill nestled around our little city. You could see little puffs of fog whenever you breathed. I tagged along with a group of kids my age, and we trick-or-treated all the houses in our neighborhood. I was a very literal kid, and didn’t like saying things I didn’t understand so instead of saying “trick or treat” I would just ask for candy.

We got to one house and a lady had a massive witch’s cauldron outside her house. It was filled with green liquid that bubbled and smoked. We knocked routinely on the door, and it creaked open to reveal a tall, thin lady dressed in black. Beneath her pointy black hat was a green face. “Hello boys!” she cackled. Most of the kids ran off. A couple held out their buckets as far away from themselves as possible and let her put candy in them.

Everyone left except me. I remained standing there dumbfounded. “You know what you’re doing is wrong, don’t you?” She looked confused. “The Bible says that witches are BAD!” One of the dads in the group circled back and dragged me off while I protested “but you have to tell her that witches are bad!”

Reflecting back on this story I feel pretty bad for that nice lady. She put a lot of effort into doing something for the kids. It must have felt uncomfortable to have a kid telling her what she did was wrong. This shows you how literal and naive I was at the time.

Instead of pulling me away, the dad could have sat me down to discuss conflict resolution. Later I would learn in a

talk from Julia Dhar

that it’s best to choose curiosity over clash. When we dive face-first into an argument, someone typically gets defensive or shuts down. Now even if you were to win the argument, you’ve lost the relationship.

It’s frustrating when someone gives you inspiration and you try to act on it, but fall flat on your face. I’ve been told many times that I should be a comedian, but none of those people have any strategy behind their ideas. They notice that I make them laugh and they would like to hear more of it. If I were to act on those ideas with no structure, then I would most likely embarass myself.

Have you have been inspired by kind words, a book, or even a quote on social media? If you fell on your face afterwords and you wonder why, this is it. Falling on your face is a likely result of acting on an impulse with no strategy. If you can find a mentor to guide you, then your chances of falling on your face greatly drop. They don’t disappear, but they drop.

If you want to go in with no guide or mentor, you can still do that. James Altucher talks about this in his book Skip the Line. He often sets up an experiment that is low cost to him, but has no structure or recovery plan. Since it’s low risk, he loses very little if it fails. Whether it succeeds or fails, it’s still a learning experience and a win for him. The key is executing in an area of controlled risk so you don’t get burned by your own experiment.

The man who came to our church and prophesied over me didn’t set up any mechanisms for my success. Instead he left me to try to figure things out on my own. My friend Charles Williams calls that being a seagull. He says some people fly in, crap all over everything, and fly out. This is often a danger of the prophetic word and part of why it has such a bad name.

Prophecy is a weird tool. In the Bible, sometimes God foretold what was going to happen. People think that’s what prophecy is: a foretelling. If we look at the actual definition of the word “prophecy” we see something interesting.

proph•e•cy

The American Heritage Dictionary

n.

An inspired utterance of a prophet, viewed as a revelation of divine will.

n.

A prediction of the future, made under divine inspiration.

The idea of being able to predict the future is attractive. What I’ve seen, though, is that those types of prophecies tend to do more damage than good. A more useful type of prophecy is the revelation of what God’s will is for your life. Regardless of what higher power you believe in. If your actions have synergy with the will of your higher power, then you experience less friction in life.

The second type of prophecy can be good and bad. It’s unhelpful to tell people a prophecy that is generally negative.

Not helpful:I’ve noticed you lie a lot. The Bible says “Don’t let any unwholesome talk proceed from your mouth”

On the other hand, it can be used as a tool for building others up.

Helpful:You have many friends, and a kind spirit. You can bring healing and inspiration to those around you.

The man who visited our church and prayed over me was attempting to do the latter. However, the instruction was undirected and the results were unsupervised. That made his words also have a negative outcome. I was reckless and zealous, but uneducated and misguided. As a result I careened about the freeway of life like a bowling ball on an ice rink. Smashing into everything along the way and hurting myself in the process.

I wasn’t done, though. In spite of the dings I’d encountered along the way. As I listened to people talk in the church, the ones who seemed to be doing the most to help others were the missionaries. One in particular was a quiet soul named Earl Kellum. He was a missionary to Mexico and helped communities there with construction and clean water while sharing the gospel with them.

I made up my mind: I was going to be a missionary. Everywhere I went I started telling people that I was going to be a missionary. Most people ignored me, but one teacher sat me down and showed me flags from around the world and asked me which one God had called me to. I looked at the flags in dismay. They were so complicated. Some had rich embroidery and others had symbols I didn’t even understand.

Then I saw it: Japan. A single red circle on a field of white. I pointed at it without saying anything. The teacher asked me “Japan? You’re going to be a missionary to Japan?” I nodded. She got out some craft paper and asked me to make the flag for her. I was relieved. “I picked right!” I didn’t understand what different countries were. All I knew was that if I’d have named a more complicated country I’d have been making a flag for the next few hours.

Along with the help of my sister I wrote a song.

“Called to the nations I am called to the nations. Called to share the news of God’s only son…”

I don’t remember the rest of it, but we sang it for the pastor who dismissed it without ceremony. I walked away and sat down staring at the fake marble design on the linoleum floor. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he see what was going on?

Later that year another missionary came to our church. His name was Sam Matthews. I recall him telling a story about how the devil picked up his son and threw him across the room. They were eating hot dogs at the time and a piece was still stuck in his son’s mouth or throat when he slammed into the wall. Sam prayed over his son and the demons left and his son was better.

Eyes wide, I was frozen in my chair. What if I could do that? What if I was able to pray for that witch and she got better? He preached for a long time. Longer than other pastors. He also yelled a lot. Finally the sermon was over and he invited people to come talk to him if they wanted.

Eagerly I made my way to the front of the room and waited patiently among sea of people. They all talked to him about various things. Some people just complimented him, which I found weird. “

He probably knows he did a good job.

” Some people asked for more details about his stories. After about 30 minutes I found myself standing in front of him.

“Mr. Matthews, how do I become a missionary like you?” I asked innocently. My mom put a supportive hand on my back as I waited for his answer. He looked down and thought about what he could say that would be useful. “Stay in school.” I looked back at him waiting for information that would actually be useful. He turned to the next person and started talking to them. My mom kindly escorted me out with a scowl on her face.

It took me a while to understand what was going on. I wasn’t sad or hurt. I was confused. Why wouldn’t he want me to be a missionary? In hindsight it’s probably because my mother was standing right there and he was worried about what she might think. Sam Matthews went away (he wasn’t from our area) and I never got a chance to follow up with him.

I managed to get my hands a few books talking about missionary work, psychology, and the history of religion. I read every day trying to get ready as if I was going to be a missionary within the next few months.

Whenever I got the chance to ask questions, I would hold onto the person and never let them go. I wasn’t going to have another Sam Matthews experience. If you say something I don’t understand, I’ll ask questions until I get it. Most people got annoyed and would start making less sense to the point I realized they probably just didn’t understand what they were talking about. A few rare souls would crystalize their information. Everything would click, and it would be more rewarding than an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

One of those people that I tormented with questions was my mom. We were sitting at the dining room table. She was working on some craft and I was reading a book. I don’t remember what the book was about, but it was a hard-bound book with a wooden feel to it. I didn’t understand part of it, so I pushed the book to her and asked her to explain it.

She gave it a shot, explaining it with a metaphor, but the metaphor didn’t line up at all with the narrative of the book. I asked her to explain her metaphor, so she switched to an allegory, which made more sense, but had nothing to do with the metaphor. Trying to make sense of everything I asked why she used the metaphor. She had had ENOUGH.

She flung the book at me and the hard binding thunked into my forehead, pushing me backward. “I wish you’d never been born!” She screamed.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” I replied as I collected the book and stepped out of the room. “I think I can figure it out from here.”

Now… let’s give her credit. She did all the work in making me get born, so we know she didn’t mean that. Her day was likely much harder than I could understand at seven years old. Still, I didn’t know better. We can’t anchor to a single person. Not your mom or dad, your pastor, guru, teacher, or therapist.

Mom, you didn’t mess up my life. This moment didn’t hurt. It is something I’ve remembered with no pain, but rather with a curiosity of what would make that scene play out the way it did. In a way, you prepared me for data that I would receive later in life. Obviously it’s not the best idea to go around throwing books at people. But don’t for a moment think that I would rewind and write that story differently. It happened, and it’s fine by me.

That being said, if you’re hurting after reading this chapter, then there is something I want to say. Whether you’re my mom, or a teacher, pastor or anyone else who feels guilty for hurting an innocent person. Maybe you have no way to apologize to the person you hurt. Whatever is in the past, so if you need to hear it, you can hear it from me.

I forgive you. Completely and totally. It’s ok.

Everyone can have a weak moment and say or do something to cause damage. Typically people don’t want to hurt you, but it can happen without them meaning it. Many people in your life will provide love, wisdom or guidance. You can take those things for what they are in the moment. However, those things define a moment, they do not define you. They do not define your relationship with the other person either. They simply define a moment in time.

If you can take the gravity out of each moment and recognize it as just that — a moment, then you defuse the power of that moment to take you somewhere you don’t want to be. If someone calls you a bad name, or tells you you’re worthless, it’s a moment. It doesn’t define you, them, or your relationship.

Jay Shetty, a monk and personal coach is famous for his quote:

I am what I think you think I am

He goes on to explain in his book

Think Like a Monk

that we tend to derive our self-image or self-worth from what we believe other’s opinions are. Our value isn’t tied up in what people think of us. Yet we tend to accept our interpretation of their words as who we really are.

You’re also not required to accept it. If someone says you’re a moron, or they say you’re briliant. It’s not true just because they said it. For one moment — perhaps only a second — they may have thought it. But just because they thought it or said it, doesn’t mean you need apply it to yourself. Just recognize that they said it, and move on.

I was seven. I didn’t move on. I stared at the gray wall for about 20 minutes thinking through everything that happened. She finished whatever she was working on and went in the other room to cook, or possibly to cry. I just sat and stared in silence. If you recall from the trick-or-treat story, I was pretty literal. I wasn’t deeply hurt, although my forehead kinda hurt, a little. Instead, I was pensive. What should I do with this information?

“

I could probably kill myself. It can’t be that hard.

” I remember reading a bunch of warnings in our science books. There were things that could hurt us and possibly even kill us. I rummaged through them, but most of the information wasn’t pertinent. I grabbed my older sister’s books. She was much smarter than I was.

Leafing through them I found a poison warning. Certain chemicals when mixed together could poison you. “

Perfect! This is going to be easy!

” I went into the kitchen, but my mom was in there, so I waited nearby in a chair pretending to read. Eventually she went to talk to my Dad and I had my window. I grabbed up the necessary items and mixed up my poison.

I couldn’t tell you what it was, but it was unimpressive. It didn’t bubble, smoke, or smell bad. It was just there. “

What will happen when I drink this? Will I die immediately, or will it take time?

” I didn’t want to fall dead on the floor and make a mess, so I went over to the sink. I drank it down in a big gulp and quickly put the glass in the sink. I stood there in silence for a few seconds, feeling absolutely nothing bad. “

It must take a while

” I shrugged. I washed the glass, dried it, and put it away.

Dinner was unceremonious, and I didn’t really care. I was in a hurry to get to bed, because I was pretty sure that’s where I was going to die. As I got into my pajamas and crawled into bed I smiled at myself for helping my mom out. She wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. I normally slept curled up, but that night I folded my hands across my chest so that I would look pretty when people saw my dead body.

Night settled around me as the noise of the house hushed into nothingness. I sank into a peacful and quiet sleep.

“

My eye hurts

.” The morning light was dancing on my left eye as the sun peeked through the blinds. My hands were by my side. I guess they fell off through the night. I looked at the ceiling thinking about what was going on. Then I realized I was alive. I didn’t kill myself. Did I do it wrong?

Then I felt the first feeling I remember feeling. It didn’t hurt when Sam Matthews brushed me off, or when my mom got exasperated.

But I hurt now

. Not physically, but emotionally. A wave of chills mixed with tears washed from my head, through my shoulders and down to my toes. Killing yourself can’t be that hard, but I’d messed it up. I really was a worthless nuisance. I can’t missionary, I can’t learn, and I can’t even kill myself. Why even try?

Tears leaked out the sides of my eyes and rolled past my ears onto the pillow. I hated being messy, but I just let it go. I didn’t have the energy to care. What just happened? Why did I fail? Am I really worthless, or did God somehow intervene and save my life? Did God not want to let me die? How can I ever know?

Earlier I talked about two kinds of prophecy. Some people believe that prophecy that foretells the future isn’t real. Others believe that it’s a divine gift from God. I don’t want to take sides. However, I spoke with pastor Austin Pyle in 2020 and he shared something interesting with me.

If a God fortells the future in a prophecy, it’s not because he hopes it will happen. It’s because he already saw it happen.

A prophet came to my church and said that God was going to use me to help many people. Perhaps God let him see the future and he was sharing it with me. Perhaps he was making things up. But consider this: if he already saw the future, then nothing I can do would change it. God will still use me in spite of all the bad or good I could do on my own.

I got up and went about my day in a bit of a daze. It felt like everything I had done didn’t matter. Witnessing didn’t matter. Reading didn’t matter. School didn’t matter. Asking questions didn’t matter. Killing myself didn’t matter. I was numb.

The truth is that it did matter. It mattered greatly. Everything in your life is a building block — like big cubes of concrete. When it’s all said and done, you stand atop a pile of events that brought you from where you were to where you are now. Everything that you can do today is because of those things in your past. I am forever grateful for this chapter of my life and the people who made it possible. I wouldn’t see it for several years, but I benefitted greatly from everything that happened — good and bad.