I haven’t blogged in a long time, because, frankly, I’ve had nothing of value to say. Presupposing I have something of value for someone, here I am.

My wife and I gave up visual entertainment for Lent–no movies, television, YouTube, Hulu, Netflix–all of it gone. There were a few pre-agreed exceptions, but, basically, nothing. For a movie and tv junkie such as myself, this has been eye-opening.

We’ve been reading more to fill the space, and I’m feeling like the left side of my brain is saying, “You know, I missed you so much. I’m so glad we’ve been able to take these long walks together.”

Now, of course, I’m reading some fiction to get my “entertainment fix”, but I’ve also been reading some of my old books from college, which caused me to ask…why didn’t I read these books in college? And why don’t I read books like these now? I really contemplated these questions…

One reason I failed to read as much as I believe I should’ve in my college years was because I was really busy working full-time for a notable ministry (in addition to full-time college).

But I found the core reason for not reading more intellectually stimulating books goes back to good ole’ Dad.

My father is by far the most intelligent and knowledgeable man I’ve ever known. He was always reading and acquiring new information to share–whether you cared to hear it or not. He is also the most lost person I’ve ever known. He’s so lost, none of my family knows where he is. Seriously.

Long story short, I realized I shunned the world of knowledge and information because I thought it was a waste. Knowledge was a cement block tied to my father’s foot, keeping him submerged in a sea of his own pride. Keeping him away from reality, away from the love of his family. I didn’t want to be like that. So I focused on the content of the heart–spiritual and emotional subject matter, found in the arts and entertainment.

Ironically, I see my father was not necessarily the most lost person I knew. Apparently, I’ve been drowning in my own sea, except my cement block was entertainment.

The bottom line to my rambling is that God has created everything to be enjoyed. Indeed, “To the pure, all things are pure.” But if any created thing captures your heart more than your God, you’re drowning too. For my father, it was the power of knowledge and information. For me, it’s the spiritual and emotional highs of entertainment.

I’m not saying I’ve cut the rope attaching my leg to my cement block. But I see it for what it is. And I want to be free to come up for air.

-Matt

I’m a film fanatic. I could watch a movie everyday–actually, multiple movies in a day if I had time. Why? Because I’m an entertainment junkie? Well, sometimes. Mostly, the reason for me is that a film is the most powerful story medium ever invented. Whenever I think of my favorite stories, I realize most of them were told through movies I have seen.

I dreamed of being one of these types of storytellers when I was a boy. I wanted to be a filmmaker. Nearly twenty years later, I still do.

It’s difficult to get people’s attention these days. We live in a culture of overstimulization, busyness, and, ironically, boredom. You’ve got to be a pretty amazing storyteller to get someone to listen to you. Even Jesus had problems–which is why I don’t feel alone in my quest to be a storyteller.

I’ve realized something pretty powerful though: My life is the greatest story I could ever tell. With that in mind, I realize a story is nothing without compelling characters. Am I a compelling character? Am I one that people think of and admire (or at least laugh–sometimes life is a comedy)? That’s why our most recent series at Crash, “The Character Gap” has had a great impact on me. In fact, every series challenges me to re-evaluate my life and the story it’s telling.

So what’s your favorite movie? If you’re not a fan of the cinema (God forbid), what’s your favorite story at least?…

Now that you’ve thought about it, is your life as exciting, moving, compelling, inspiring, etc. as your favorite story? Hopefully, it is. But even if it’s not, don’t worry–your story’s not over yet! That’s right, it’s like the last Lord of the Rings movie–just because it fades to black every five minutes doesn’t mean it’s over!

One day your life will fade to black with some measure of permanancy…but even death is only part of the story for a believer in Jesus Christ. In Him, your story becomes everlasting.

So how’s your story? If the plot is convoluted or characters cliche or you simply find the main character too confusing without any sense of direction, I have an idea: consult the Author. He’s the best storyteller I know, and He’s always helping me edit my story.

There I was, five-year-old Matt strutting down the neighborhood street in my awesome Superman pajamas–my cape was blowing in the wind and I was poised to rescue all in need of help. Well, I didn’t leap any tall buildings that day, but I did stop my neighbor friend from picking on his little sister. So…that’s something.

I grew up (sort of) and though I’ve worn many Superman t-shirts, I never quite learned how to fly. I never really learned to do anything super per se. As the picture above represents, I’ve always been more of a White Trash Superman. By “white trash” I simply mean I’m a poor excuse for Superman–that is to say, I’m not much of a super man at all. Maybe some of you can relate. Maybe you had dreams of being something great, but found reality being much different from the dreams of childhood.

Not to say we all don’t have tremendous potential, but when it comes to saving the day, most of us have trouble saving ourselves let alone someone else. Often times, it seems like we are our own super villains rather than superheroes. It reminds me of the passage in the Letter to the Romans where the Apostle Paul says something like, “I have within me the desire to do good, and yet I find myself doing evil…who can save me from myself?!” (Romans 7:19,24 - Matt Sherman Translation).

Duh-duh-duh-dah! Here comes our true Superman–Jesus, the Messiah! He is able to save us in the truest sense, as he replaces our old life with a new life–His life–and shows us how be super like Him. Of course, that’s the best part for many of us who follow after Jesus–the fact that we gain His power to love and do great works and, possibly, even miracles! However, we must never lose sight of just Who our Superman is, because it’s not any of us.

With Jesus, I am empowered to live a super life, but without Jesus, I am just a White Trash Superman.

I had many difficult times when I lived in Los Angeles, but none of them were unbearable–my friends saw to that. I have always been amazed at how rich in relationships I have been over the years. Now there have been some duds over the years as well, but, overall, I have been extremely fortunate. Just being able to blog my thoughts here (with the hope that someone will find something helpful in them) is a result of the relationships I’ve been cultivating with some amazing people out here in Phoenix. Anyway, back to Los Angeles.

My friend Eric is the guy out of focus to the left of the picture. Several years back, I got dumped by someone who my friends had counseled me to dump months earlier (listen to your friends!). I called Eric to tell him the bad good news or good bad news and this is what he said: “That sucks, man…but you know what?! We’re gonna go out to the clubs and we’re gonna meet some girls and get drunk, and it’s gonna be awesome!”

Knowing that Eric and I both loved Jesus and that none of what he said was actually going to happen, I burst into laughter. Then Eric laughed with me. And suddenly, in the midst of such dark emotions, laughter brought a wave of truth–the truth that God loved me and demonstrated that love through people who had chosen to love me as well. Dr. Eric administered the medicine of laughter at the right time, unaware of its powerful truth-bearing side effects.

So I’ve learned that when I feel like I’m alone and that God’s forsaken me, all I need to do is call for backup. And backup is always there to remind me that I’m not alone and that God will never forsake me.

-Matt Sherman

My wife and I were at a Christmas party a year ago and I just couldn’t help myself. Maybe it’s the actor in me, but when I saw my friend’s nephew had left his toy ninja mask and toy sword in the corner of the living room…I had to play with them. Then our friends served coffee to everyone, and, somehow I ended up standing on a chair…I don’t know if I’ll ever grow up. Maturity isn’t really my point though–playfulness is. When’s the last time you just played? Playfulness is not regressing to some form of childish behavior (though it may appear to be so at times). Rather playfulness is taking pleasure in the life that’s been given to you. Opportunities to be playful, or shall we call them…ninja gear (symbolism!)…Anyway, when the ninja gear is right there in front of you, are you gonna play or what? Most of us want to, so why don’t we? Usually, we don’t play because we’re afraid of what people will think of us. Often times, those same people are looking for opportunities to be playful themselves, but feel like they need some form of permission to act out. Well, if you’re courageous enough to put on your ninja gear, maybe they will do the same. Then we’ll have a world full of stealthy assassins that start to form clans and kill each other off…wait, that’s not my point…I think I forgot the symbolism…Playfulness reflects God’s joy in your heart! (there we go).

So everyone at my friend’s Christmas party laughed at the goofy guy in the ninja gear, took pictures, and there was much rejoicing. Later my friend came up to me smiling and revealed that the toy ninja gear wasn’t his nephew’s…it was his. He grew up, but he didn’t forget how to play.

Matt Sherman

I woke up in the middle of the night to my hands shouting obscenities at my feet. My feet responded in kind to the hands’ verbal abuse and, if I hadn’t intervened, it could’ve been a real street brawl. Like the movie Gangs of New York or even West Side Story. Anyway, I got them both to calm down and tell me what the whole altercation was about. I was shocked by their response. Apparently, the argument was over who I loved more. I told them that I loved them both equally, but that didn’t solve the problem right away. They wanted to know which of them served me better–that this would prove who I loved more. The feet argued that my passion for Latin dancing proved that they were more loved. However, the hands quickly reminded the feet about my obsession with table tennis (not ping-pong…table tennis, which is for adults)–and insisted that this proved that they were the more loved. I just kept telling them both how they were each a part of me, both with significantly unique roles to play–just like all the other parts of me. One part of me was no more important than any other…just different. But both were loved and needed by me. After a while, both the hands and the feet seemed satisfied with my response and went back to sleep. I smiled to myself, wondering if Jesus had this much trouble with His Body. I was almost asleep…then my ears and eyes started fighting.

Matt Sherman