Matthew Robinson always moving forward…

It’s All About “Me”

“The man who lives by himself and for himself is likely
to be corrupted by the company he keeps.”

Dean and I have had several conversations about selfishness over the last couple of weeks.  And it’s had me thinking…

At what point did “I” and “me” overtake “them”?

Why is it someone will go just far enough to say they did something, as long as it, at the end of the day, doesn’t inconvenience them?

When will serving in the Church become a convicted Christian’s 2nd or 3rd priority rather than than their 12th or 13th?

When will the opportunity of a Sunday night outweigh the community of a Saturday night?

When will cars stop breaking down, things just coming up, and “I’m busy”-ness shift to happening throughout the week rather than always on the Sabbath?

We’ve been wondering how we move and how we teach and how we challenge a group of people to get over themselves.

“But I’m not selfish” some may say.  Or, “what do you mean?”

Look at our giving records.  It’s not our money.  It’s His.

Look at the pews after the service on Sundays when we pass out bulletins. “Someone else will pick this up.”

Look at the 5 guys who tear down every Sunday.  Everyone else just stands around watching them.

Listen to the comments I receive post-production: “I didn’t like that song.”  “I don’t know why you asked those questions.”  “I just didn’t connect tonight.”  “I don’t understand why you all did that.”  “If I were in charge…”

Now don’t get me wrong.  There are examples, people I admire and look up to, with whom I get to serve every Sunday and throughout the week, who model selflessness.  I’m working on this issue myself.  Trust me, it hits home.

But I just can’t help but imagine what we could be used for if we just got over…ourselves.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit,
but in humility consider others better than yourselves.”
Philippians 2:3

Textually Active

I love my friends. But sometimes, they suck.  And I only say that when they surprise me.  I’m not very good with surprises.

Such was the case with the following exchange last night.  My pals Lawton and Sarah are away for the summer.  And I love them. But not when they expose my gullible self to their trickery…

Lawton: Sarah’s preggers. (10:31 p.m.)
Me:  Dude.  Yay!!!  Congrats to you two!  Love, uncle matt (10:31:30 p.m.)
Lawton: Kidding (10:36 p.m.)

At 10:36:01 p.m. I called Lawton.  Sarah answered.  And for about 17 minutes they just laughed.  Laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.  They thought I needed a little false excitement late on a Sunday.

So.  Not.  Funny.

And I’ll probably never believe them until Sarah starts showing when they’re knocked up for real.

But I still love the Graves.  I’ll admit it.

Week-ending

I’m not sure why I have a soft spot for school productions.  But ever since Mr. Mogileski taught me how to play the recorder in Elementary School Music at Twin Lakes in Tampa (Go RoadRunners!), I’ve had a fondness for the musical talents and efforts of public school students.

I just read an article about this group, and their sweet melodies will make the start of your weekend just that much sweeter. I love their music. I love their passion. I love them. And you will, too.  They’re from PS22 in New York.

PS22 Chorus’ Viva La Vida

PS22 Chorus’ Don’t Stop Believing

And finally, their take on Lady GaGa’s Just Dance:

Close The Door

At my office, when someone says “close the door” or asks while on the phone “is the door closed?” a few possibilites surface:

• Some “good” gossip is going to be shared, about someone else
• Someone’s going to tell me something I need to know about me…and it’s usually pretty direct, and typically not what I want to hear
• Someone’s going to tell me something I need to know about them…and it’s usually pretty direct, and typically strikingly personal

Our walls at the office are pretty thick.  And for the most part sound proof.

The barriers we often build around ourselves are often just as thick, and just as sound proof.

Three times in the last three days three different people have asked about the status of my office door.

And what they began to speak fell into the third category.

I’ve taken the time to listen this week.  And I’ve realized it’s all personal.  Life, that is.

And when the barrier’s broken just a little…when the door to a person’s life is cracked just a smidge…you realize something about everyone else as well as yourself.

None of us have it all together.  Life can be great and sucky all at the same time.  And everybody’s searching. 

For what?

Now that’s the question worth exploring…

Buy You A Drank

I have a really bad habit.

And growing up, it annoyed my mother to no end.

And now, it even annoys me.

I have an addiction…to cups.  To glasses.  To beverage holding containers.

I drink a lot of water.  And when I’m at home, for some reason, I can never locate the last glass I just used.

I go through glass after glass before night’s end, when they some how all magically appear in the sink and get put in the dishwasher (I have a bit of another hold up with leaving dirty dishes in the sink over night…that’s another issue to dissect in another blog one day.)

Anyways, I’m also not a conventional “drinker.”  For some reason, beverages just taste better in popularly defined “odd” cups.  Take for example: ice cold skim milk.  Ever tried it in a wine goblet, a champagne flute, or a beer stein?  Don’t knock it until you have…you won’t turn back.  Much to the chagrin of that same annoyed mother, I’d pull from the top shelves and behind frontal plastic cups in the cabinet the most exquisite contraption from which to refresh and quench my thirst.  My actions were typically met with non-approval.

On my own now, I’ve made it a point to not sell myself short.

I think we all often do.  We settle with the comfort and the norm and the typical (and cheap) because it’s safe and right in front of us.

I do this all the time in my life, my faith, my relationships, my work.

I go for what’s easy.

When sometimes, if I just stand on the tip-toes and reach a little farther into the back of the cabinet, I can find something exquisite.

Something that makes it all just so much more enjoyable and fulfilling.

Something that might require just a little more effort, but pay off huge dividends in how I feel, and maybe how the others around me feel.

I’m giving you permission…really…stretch the boundary of the rule or guideline or barrier that’s been put in place “just ’cause.”

Don’t disqualify yourself when others haven’t disqualified you.

And while you’re at it…try that glass of milk in the “good china” teacup.

You’ll love it.  Just wait and see.

Cheers!

Father’s Day

No, that beautiful little girl is not my child.  I’d take her, though.  It’s Lila Rose Simmons.  Karsyn was the smallest baby I’d ever held at the time, about a week old, almost two years ago.  Lila here is about 20 hours old.  I was scared to death thinking that I was going to do something wrong.  And I fell in love with Scott and Jen’s creation instantly.  She is so small!

I’m the proud son of Gary Charles Robinson and I missed him today.  Last Fathers Day, my dad, Dean’s, and Scott’s helped all of us play our roles at church.  I wish we had an encore from all of the pops this year!

Matt Long was gone.  And so was Dean.  That left Danna and I in charge.  And we had a blast.  I had the privilege of teaching tonight, and every time I have this opportunity I develop more and more respect for Dean.  It’s a tough task!

I fretted being so swamped this past week and into the beginning of this weekend.  But in all honesty, it kept me disciplined.  I knew I had to avoid distraction and I did at all costs.  Working through Exodus the past several weeks on my own and preparing for tonight has taught me so much…and we barely scratched the surface!  I’m looking forward to where Dean’s guiding us the rest of this summer.

If you want a few Matthew-isms…here you go:

I do have a man crush on Todd Doss’ voice.  Simply incredible.  Serving with him and Adam and Teri Hill, some great friends, was a treat in and of itself.

“If He’s not there with you, I’m not quite sure how far you’re going to get.”

I did take a job a Leon grads…someone needed to!

And you have to admit, working in Fresh Prince of Belle-air, and a little Black Eyed Peas…don’t even get me started on bragging about mad skill.

And finally:

“The past is not your potential.”

If there was ever a man who needed to believe that, it’s Moses.

And it’s me.

And I think probably you, too.

Happy Fathers Day 2009!

Downhill Thoughts

Lila Rose Simmons arrived last night.  I can’t wait to meet her.  Congrats to Scott and Jen!

My blog roll is back working.  It didn’t work.  And then I lost all of the links.  And now I think I fixed it.  Jovanna can get her number one source for readership back now.  Just don’t look at her post today. It’s über gross.

If you haven’t been the one who’s spent two and a half years working on a project, and you just now decide that you don’t like it, you should probably just keep your mouth shut in a meeting where those of us who have been working on it are presenting.

I found this song on someone’s facebook page and love it.  I don’t know who this guy is.  But he’s great.

This Sunday’s going to be a busy one.  Can’t wait for The Well and Gone Part 2!

I can’t deal with the Tallahassee heat.  This is the ninth summer I’ve been in this city.  And it’s disgusting.

I’m thinking about throwing my hat in the ring and running for President.  Robinson ‘09.  Any takers?

Poser

I’m guilty. And my conscious is feeling it.

For the past six week I’ve been hosting the College Community Group and dinner at my house. I’ve had the task of cooking for between 30 and 50 18 to 22 year olds. We’ve had amazing concoctions of grilled chicken sandwiches and baked ziti and chicken and yellow rice and breakfast for dinner and other splendors.

But last night, I did the unthinkable.

You see I had to work all day. And a 3 hour meeting ran to almost 5 hours. And I…you see I….well, I….

I made Stouffers lasagna.

For the love! I disappointed myself. And every cullinary deligheter who has dined at my house prior.

I’m a sham.

But I did make a pretty mean homemade salad.

It wasn’t enough to fully recover though.

Superman-in-the-kitchen turned Clark Kent last night.

I’ll hit a home run next week, college kiddies. I promise!