Review of Rooted: The Hidden Places Where God Develops You

This book should be taken off your shelf and read repeatedly. 

Whether you have been a believer and follower of Christ for years or you are just starting off on your journey, you should get this book. For those that have walked with Christ, much of this material will be familiar, but as Paul instructed in 2 Timothy 2:14, Remind them of these things... When I was pastoring and preaching regularly, I remember covering the same familiar topics repeatedly. We need to reminders in our lives.
If you are relatively new to Christianity, experimenting or investigating, you would also do well to read this book.
The message is well-intended and will build and bolster the spiritual growth of anyone following Christ. I found the book genuine, down to earth and filled with many personal stories.Banning illustrates through the Scripture how we can thrive within God's process toward our personal maturity, a process that will bring us into the best life we could live; the one God intends for us all.
ROOTED is both profound and easy to read. Its truths are easy to grasp. I found my head nodding in agreement, and each page in my copy contains my penciled underlining of numerous passages that stood out for me. Some whispered, and some stood on a chair shouting for my attention begging me to implement its truth to some needy area of my life.
I was incredibly grateful to be provided with this advance reading copy.
Banning's book was a pleasure and personal benefit to read. The message he penned is not merely a collection of information from a seasoned pastor; his life displays the visible evidence of what he believes and the fruit of truths in the pages of ROOTED.

ROOTED-THE HIDDEN PLACES WHERE GOD DEVELOPS YOU

I was honored to receive an advance copy of Banning Leibscher's new book. Banning is the Founder & Pastor of Jesus Culture a global movement, awakening hearts to worship and demonstrating the love and power of God wherever they go. Jesus Culture is also a local church in Sacramento, CA. I am proud to call Jesus Culture my home. God has used the people and leadership there to lift our family to deepen our relationship with Jesus.

I am currently reading the book and will post a review when I am finished. So far, what I have read is tremendous, a great encouragement and help to grow anyone's relationship with God. Whether you have followed Christ for years or are just beginning your walk, ROOTED will help you sink down roots into the things of God.

While you are waiting for me to finish reading, you can preorder from Amazon in the bar on the right or from website embedded below.

For a limited time, if you preorder you will get a free copy of their CD, LET IT ECHO.
Be Blessed,
Mike

Divinely Mad

Could God be the Maddest of all?

Divinely Mad,

Madness Divine,

Omnipotent Madness created us sane,

The whole thing in our power, but for one little tree.

One little tree that brought us to be,

All broken and marred, ashamed and weighed down.

Yet, Omnipotent Madness, never left town.

Wallowed in mire, it seemed tragic indeed,

‘till the Madness of God,

Hung His Son on a tree.

Bleeding and dying, the whole world in His sight,

Forgive them! He cried,

Still, He suffered and died.

Buried, entombed, wrapped in white linen,

Three days in the dark, without any hope given.

Our story’s not over.

So, wait there’s still more,

Omnipotent Madness made a decree,

Raise Him again, We’ll let the world see!!

So, in Power and Glory, Christ rose from His grave.

Five-hundred and more, saw, touched, and felt.

Mary thought him a gardener,

Yet, you still don’t believe.

What will it take for the truth you to see?

Divinity died for you and for me.

Perhaps for a good man, some would dare die,

But ragged old sinners, cast offs and lame?

It’s hard to believe that God could be sane.

-M. Matheson 2011 revised 2016

Live Love Lead

Australian Pastor Brian Houston has an international influence and following. I was gifted his book 'Live Love Lead' by my Australian friend's mother. It was a life changer. The same friend from Down Under suggested I try Houston's 14 Day devotional as well, based on the book 'Live Love Lead.'

The biggest takeaway for me: "Your Best is Yet to Come." So simple, it threatens to sound canned. It is full to the brim with truth to carry you through your next hour, day and year.

Start 2016 making a positive change. Give the devotion a try (Click Here), or buy the book, or get all crazy and do both.
Peace,
M. Matheson

The Peace of the City

And seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it;

for in its peace you will have peace.

Jeremiah 29:7

My desire here is to not spill scripture out on you like so many dice spilled from a cup letting the numbers come up by chance.

Please don’t stare down at them and think, “Oh, that’s nice.”

Do you find that one of our biggest challenges as humans attempting to stand on this spinning blue orb is to find purpose? Purpose through our failures, trials and troubles?

Too often we spend our lives simply trying to escape life’s present objectionable circumstances.

Yeah, me too.

But, if you have even the slightest suspicion that God holds the strings, and have thus far kept from blaming Him or taking His throne for yourself; Jeremiah 29:7, may not be a comfortable truth. But knowing there is rhyme or reason to your present state of affairs can bolster your spirits.

As an aside, Jeremiah the prophet spoke this to an occupied people taken away from their land in many cases and ruled by another as slaves.

I found its difficult words a comfort in times of distress.

The essence I distill from it for my present circumstance is: rather than expend awful amounts of emotional and physical energy attempting to wrest myself from the grip of my situation I should instead seek peace for my surroundings. I should pray not only for me but also for those around me, seeking the peace of that city, metaphorically speaking.

The promise enclosed within the scripture, like a glorious Easter Egg surprise, is that within my present situation, no matter how dire, I will find my satisfaction.

I won’t attempt here to explain for God since I could expel thousands of words and still not do it justice. But, you take that kernel back to your burrow, think on it, and nibble on it, and you will find it to have an otherworldly dynamic force in your life for good.

There is a most well-known verse four steps down that does a good job of illumination:

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11

We can trust Him with our lives.

Wishing you peace for your city,

M. Matheson

Reminders from Psalm 37

Months ago I was given the book, Live Love Lead by Brian Houston. My friend and future son-in-law, Kyle Johnson dropped it in my lap as a gift from his mother whom I have never met. They attend Hillsong that Brian Houston had founded and which is now a worldwide movement.

I said all that to say, “We need reminders of what God has done and will do in our lives.”

[We] were created, gifted, and graced for God’s eternal purpose,

a divinely implanted purpose, So what’s yours?

(Quoted from Live Love Lead by Brian Houston pg. 246)

That was my reminder, like a loving brick upside my head. Up until then, Brian Houston’s book had been tickling me in places I’d rather not be tickled while in my misery. After years of ministry within and without the church, as a pastor and short term missionary, my life due to circumstance has been reduced from wide-open full throttle to, if not homebound then at least on a thirty-mile leash.

I’ve traded my pulpit for a dishwasher and washer-dryer combo. My outreach is done holding the hand of my four-year-old son, Tobias, who I wake up looking forward to running with, but often feel more like his valet. When I turn sixty-years-old he’ll already be five. The abler he becomes, the more _________ I become. (I refuse to fill in that blank)

People try to remind me every day that what I am doing is securing a future for Tobias. I smile and say, “You’re right.” I believe it, but I want bigger, if such a thing exists.

Today I was reminded of more than that. I was reminded of a Psalm I prayed through, believed, and held onto for many past years, but recently my hold on it had become rather limp.

Psalm 37:3-8

(3) Trust in the Lord, and do good;

Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.

(4) Delight yourself also in the Lord,

And He shall give you the desires of your heart.

(5) Commit your way to the Lord,

Trust also in Him,

And He shall bring it to pass.

(6) He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,

And your justice as the noonday.

(7) Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him;

Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,

Because of the man who brings wicked schemes to pass.

(8) Cease from anger, and forsake wrath;

Do not fret— it only causes harm

(3) Trust in the Lord, and do good;

It sounds like a command, but this is more of a promise. Following a semicolon which is always a promise of more, it reads in the King James Version:

so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.

So as a promise, I take it to mean: if I put my trust in the Lord (and if He is not trustworthy, then nothing and no one is) and live out my day to day life trusting Him for each next step, I will be fed by his faithfulness.

That is very good news indeed.

(4) Delight yourself also in the Lord…

If I choose to make Him my delight instead of cast blame, bitterness, or ignore Him altogether,

He will give me the desires of my heart. Now it does say heart, not mind or other body parts. The heart has always been God’s big interest. The New Testament Gospel accounts record more than forty instances of Jesus speaking about the heart.

Jesus tells us that’s where good and evil come from, and that is where our true treasure abides, and he also tells us:

Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. (John 14:1)

Way back hundreds of years before in the Psalms, God was telling us the heart was the key to our good fortune (the eternal kind). I have the audacity to believe that if I take my delight in God, He will effect my future hopes and dreams. And, wouldn’t you know it, that’s what the next verse says.

(5) Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him,

And He shall bring it to pass.

The word commit I’ve learned by study and experience means to roll together our purposes with His. If I enjoy writing, I should twist this up together with His purposes.

And, there it is again, the trust factor. Trust in the biblical sense is more than belief He exists. It means to rely on Him and cling to Him which comes with a promise.

He shall bring it to pass. IT being your hopes and dreams. But, wait there’s more.

(6) He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,

And your justice as the noonday.

Forgive me if I over simply this beautifully worded verse. I take this, and keep it for myself, to mean that if you hold to the previous instructions and admonitions, to the best of your ability, He will make sure that the world around you sees that your dreams have been fulfilled.

In other words, those dreams will remain not only inside your head and heart, but the world will see and know what the Lord has done for you.

And while you are waiting for that to come:

(7) Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him;

Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,

Because of the man who brings wicked schemes to pass.

This may be the hardest part of the entire verse. But waiting in God’s language is not a hopeful anticipation of something that might come.

God’s sense of waiting is like waiting for a reliable bus to come. You KNOW it will come at the appointed time.

And while you are waiting for it to come, Do not fret. Don’t begin to run to and fro with panic and worry that it might not come, especially as you watch people get theirs who don’t care a whit about God.

And the next verse is a lot like this one.

(8) Cease from anger, and forsake wrath;

Do not fret— it only causes harm.

Does that last instruction need any explanation? I thought not.

So, now that I have been reminded, I have reminded you and in so doing I have fulfilled part of these instructions.

May you be filled with all of God’s peace and grace as you go about your days.

True Heroes Never Die - A Memoir to Fatherhood

This is a piece I wrote two years ago as I reflected on the ongoing effects of my birth father who died nearly fifty years ago. And, the manically dysfunctional life I lived 'spun out' for too many years. I was fortunate that my life was bookended by a second father who also passed on, but after many sacrificial years of demonstrating what true heroes are and how they never die.
To my birth father Elmore 'Matt' Matheson and my second father Howard 'Hank' Smoyer, this piece is dedicated.

~~~True Heroes Never Really Die~~~~

Like a rain soaked cloud on a stormy day, it blanketed my mind, infusing every pore. My very breath was strangled till it voided every hope leaving only sadness. My young soul simmered to bursting, but without relief.

My dad was gone. Goddamnit!

Ten-year-old boys are not equipped to suffer such a wrenching loss as death, the main attraction that day. One closing act would erase the last remnants of my father’s life from this earth.

Taking center stage, garish sprays of flowers you only see at horse races and funerals surrounded the shiny casket. From where I was seated, neatly filed away between Mom and Grandma, I could see the waxen features of Dad’s once strong face as it protruded from the polished box. Archaic piped-in hymns kept the mood at a full-tilt grim, and Death’s boots stomped their indelible print into my miserably shattered soul.

We family members were seated well away from the larger gallery of – mere spectators, the obligatory witnesses of our collective grief. A week later they would adjust their lives to do without Ellmore ‘Matt’ Matheson. Four decades later he continues to occupy the front row seat in my day-to-day life.

Despite my drowning sadness, faith was at its peak that day, for I clung desperately to the vain hope that Dad would awake and suddenly climb from that wretched box. Then we could go back home to the beautiful, oh so beautiful humdrum of our lives.

The crowd queued up to file past the open casket.

Not me. No sir. No way.

I WOULD NOT be part of that ghastly parade.

More than one well-meaning relative stopped, and with a gentle pat on my hand encouraged me to come along and view his corpse. What could they have been thinking? Was convention so indispensable they found it necessary to heap yet more torment onto such a young boy?

The horde of silent whispers grew in my head as one by one the spectators each tried not to look in my direction. Couldn’t they see that I had the most skin in this game? And they were worried about tradition!

I was surrounded by family and friends, yet I felt utterly abandoned, and the only person with enough care or courage to come sit with me that day lay stretched out in the casket.

He would have, whether it was his son or not, but he’s gone.

I was an only child, yet now had less than nothing.

Had I been singled out? To be cheated of a father.

Where was God while my dad lay dying?

What, besides pure evil could let a child bounce at wicked tangents off the jagged rocks of death? Too often for decades.

An unfamiliar rage crept up on me like a wolf on the prowl. Life was no longer the life of an innocent.

Hunched around a dying fire for warmth, my innocence and ambient peace were being stolen away in such small bites that I wouldn’t perceive what had happened till anger bloomed with a life all its own, and became the one ruling emotion.

It wasn’t until 25 years later that the fiery bitterness finally began to cool. The treasure Dad had stealthily hidden away in me finally saw a glimpse of daylight.

Since that ugly day so long ago, I've amassed a growing corps of personal heroes, but they play only minor supporting roles in the story of my life. I look to them to spur my skill, talent and gifting, and to inspire me to keep striving in character or craft. But, the Drum Major stands his post ahead of them all. Barely a day goes by without his lessons and examples working their way to the surface of nearly every one of my decisions, actions, and exploits. It’s incredible how much soul Dad had packed into the short 10 years he guided my growing little life, almost as if he knew his time would be short. 

If I die knowing my life had even half as profound of effect on my children and grandchildren as Dad had on mine, my life will have been well lived.

My earliest memory of Dad was when I was three or four years old. Somewhere in Europe, I was hanging from the doorway of a car and peeing into a malevolent rainstorm. He drew enough bravery from me that night to dangle from an open door and do my business.

As years went on, he taught me the much more noble art of growing things. I sold produce to our neighbors, grown from my own rather large vegetable plot. Still clear in my mind is Dad helping me discover the mystery of black spots that showed up on the leaves of my plants; Charcoal in the soil. Today no one could accuse me of being a very good gardener, but how many lessons in commerce, responsibility, and hard work grew in that little garden? Over time those lessons grew into factory management and eventual business ownership.
     Dad was able to single-handedly correct my pigeon-toed feet by simple, kind and consistent reminders; just to not walk like that.

When I show my toddler son how to throw a ball or must admonish his behavior, Dad still whispers in my ear the right words to say.

     On one of our many spontaneous early A.M. fishing trips, I caught a crab, a monster by seven or eight year old standards. Its fearsome claws awed me, but Dad saw an opportunity for a lesson in courage.

"It's not as scary as it looks," he said.

"Put your finger in the pincers and see."
     I drew back with a fearful, "No!" and Dad exerted the mild pressure it took to get me to do anything and I put my finger in the claw. He was right of course. Just a little pinch. Today I know that most things are fiercer in appearance than they are in reality.

Anything Dad asked me to do, I would do. And defiance, so commonplace today, was nearly inconceivable then. His ‘suggestions’ had the power to pull daring, hard work and sacrifice from a timid little boy who would rather not be those things.
     Running home one day, from the threats of a bully that was older and taller than I, Dad turned me around and marched back with me to face Dale Rudd. Up until the very moment that Dad said, “Fight him,” I fully expected he would take care of the menace for me. It ended up looking more like a dance than a fight (I’m sure Dad knew it would). Lesson learned- Never back down from a threat, the slightest temptation to do so sets me to thinking of Dad as if he is standing next to me.

     He and I built a slot car track out in the garage. It was on a large board with pulleys that could be pulled up to the rafters and out of the way. How many simple things such as the use of tools and more complex things like patience and persistence did that project teach?

     One of my fondest recollections is going to work with Dad during my summer vacations. He was retired from 27 years in the Army and now worked for the Santa Ana Parks Department. Eating lunch with him and his coworkers made me feel much older than my seven years. I spent the day catching frogs while he worked. We took the frogs home in Chinese food containers, and on the ride home in the cavernous four-door blue and white ‘55 Chevy they all disappeared. They were small but not minute. We never did find them.

     Above all I think Dad taught me to be kind. It was his standout trait and showed in everything he did. He never explained, it was just part of who he was. You could be sure not to mistake his kindness for timidity or weakness, for he was never afraid to stand up for himself or a victim of another's abuse. He also had some very strong views on world affairs that wouldn't be very user friendly today.

     Those days a family outing could simply be to drive around, and on one of these Dad accidentally hit and killed a small dog. I remember sitting in the car with Mom as he picked up that dead Wiener Dog and carried it through the neighborhood looking for its owners so he could tell them he was sorry.

     If, in the end, I turn out half as kind and compassionate as Ellmore H. Matheson, I'm good.
    

The bitter memory of not being allowed to visit my dad in the hospital where he died sits aching in my head like an abscessed tooth. Too young they said. I’m glad it’s not that way today. In that at least our society has grown more compassionate.

Paramedics’ forcing him to ride the gurney downstairs was the last time I physically saw my dad alive. His repeated remonstrations to allow him to walk down the stairs still ring in my head. Every day he was in the hospital, I looked forward to talking with him on the phone. I don’t recall what we talked about, but I know both of us fully expected him to come home. Until the day I returned home to a gray room and a tearful mom.
     "Come sit here Mikey," she said patting the cushion next to her.

The day of his funeral is still clear as yesterday. I was 10-1/2 years old. No young son should have to bury his father. Unfortunately, for us in this violent, disease prone world, it happens much too often.

     I wasn't scared to view the body, but refused to see my hero like that. He was superman, strong and without a doubt loved me. He had the answer to every question. How could he do so from that box?

It has taken many years of life in the raw to learn that a hero like him could never really die, but lives on in every breath, decision and deed of my life.

     Today he is just as strong if not stronger, and now 48 years down the road many of the seeds he planted in the first decade of my life are just now bearing their fruit. That’s a true hero, and one that can never really die.

Epilogue

Many years later as I was an adult but stuck in a tailspin, my mom married another great man. It took me several years to reconcile him as a father to me. But I did.

In discussing this thought with a good number of people, I found it hard to find more than a couple that have had even one GOOD father in their life, and I’ve had two. I understand my tremendous good fortune.

While writing this piece my second father was battling cancer from which I fully expected him to recover. He died just as I was finishing.

Howard “Hank” Smoyer earned the right to be called my Dad. He was not an ‘also ran,’ but another real hero that will never die. It would take another story to tell you why.

Mixed up in the midst of all my madness and trouble, God used two true men to sculpt my life, and they are carving away still, for true heroes never really die.