bcmatson

The personal weblog of Bradley C. Matson.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007   Spiritual Sine Curve

As the snow retreated the spring of my sophomore year I was sprinting in my walk with God. I was defining and exploring new aspects of my spirituality; new disciplines, Pentecostalism, visions, and random callings from God peppered my exponential growth. This growth, however, could not be sustained.

Junior year of college I came to campus as the newly elected Vice President of the Student Body. Drunk with power and eager to utilize my new found abilities I searched for opportunities to flex my title. Then hurricane Katrina lit up the media. The Student Body President and I sprung into action with a school-wide effort to save those in need. The “Pulling for Hope” project was initiated, hurricane graphic logo and all.

This brought me down another path of service a few weeks later as I went with fifty other Hope students to Gulfport Mississippi to do hurricane relief work during fall break. A trip I repeated three times before the year was up. During that trip we did a lot of distribution and saw God work in amazing ways through answers to prayer and miracles. The operation was run by World Hope International, which was based at a local Baptist church. My eyes were opened to the administrative side of missions and how much management was needed to care for people in need; in need of supplies, shelter, and most importantly, Jesus. I had further defined my secondary calling. I was on fire.

Perhaps I was unready, my roots too weak, or God simply took me in a new direction, but as the summer before my senior year took hold my views were shifting. Call it backsliding, but I no longer engaged in the wild expressions and explorations in my faith I once had. Instead I started noticing the dark side of religion. I grew a new heart for the unbeliever and how they often saw the Church. I communed with the “outsiders” and empathized with their state.

  Run away

I grew up, for the first seven years of my life, in a large white house with a big lawn and massive backyard. My house was in East Lansing, MI mere blocks from the campus of Michigan State. The neighborhood was perfect. It had nice sidewalks, neatly laid-out blocks, and families with children peppered the area.

The block I lived on was my “turf” and my good colleague, Patrick, and I were sworn protectors of it. We would customize our big-wheels by removing the seat and then scooter around the block as we surveyed our glorious territory.

During one meeting arranged by our maternal secretaries we were musing in the front yard. My mother gave us strict instructions to stay within view of the house as she went in to fetch us some refreshments; shortly there after I developed a plan.

My plan called for adventure, exploration, and a sliding moral measure. We headed off down the street bound for adventure. For the first block we were within the sight of the house and within our set limitation, but when we reached the next block my wise associate questioned our course.

“Didn’t you mom say to say within view of the house?” he asked.

I told him that my mom had said that very statement, “she never said what house we are to be in sight of, however,” I added. With this new provision every house we passed became “the house” we were in sight of and our journey continued unhindered.

Later that day the police found us amongst some shrubbery several blocks from home. We were given a firm talking to by our parents and I, being the evil mastermind behind this plot, was dealt with strictly.

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