Matthew Robinson

When I was in high school, every single one of my classes lasted for just over 2 hours.  For four years.

When I first began teaching, I taught 6 periods of middle school math each day.  In a row.  No variation.

And I had those students for 180 contact days.

I struggle, at times, now getting through a 50 minute Monday, Wednesday, Friday flavor.

And even sticking to it for a 16 week semester.

I just said “go” on the last final I’m administering. 

And I’ll I can think about is that I’m d-o-n-e (I know, I’m not a roast…should be “finished”)

7 weeks.  7 glorious weeks off.

And Seattle in 2 days.

Here I come.

Congrats to the Class of 2009 and good luck on finals. 

I’m finished–ha!

We say it all the time: we’re a church that speaks an everlasting truth in an ever-changing culture.

And we celebrated that vision tonight.

We heard from our seniors,

and from our Pastor (watch online tomorrow!)

and our people as 14 were baptized tonight.

We announced what we’ve been praying about for months: launching an 11:05 a.m. service on August 23rd.

Our band freakin’ rocked.

And we said goodbye to Sarah Ann Graves.

We grew some roots as a church family after the service as a couple hundred people looked on at the pool we spent all day filling.  I don’t think we’ll ever do baptisms anywhere else.  The spontaneous ones got to me.  We planned to have a change of clothes and a towel and flip flops (only a dollar a pair one ebay!) for those who wanted to take part unplanned.  What a way to celebrate our vision.

A whole new world’s opening next Fall.  We don’t know what’s to come.  We haven’t at any point along this way.  But we’re being obedient and trusting and following where we feel called.  We’ll go live at 11:05 the day before school starts this August, and I can’t wait.

I’m going to miss Sarah.  And Lawton.  So much.  Sarah’s seen me cry and I got redemption as we all saw her cry (which she doesn’t!)  Sarah took over what the pioneer Sally Inserra turned Acuff began, and Danna’s going to do the same with ease.  The Ark, the west wing, all the workers and the program and the hours of labor spent thereafter didn’t exist when Sarah stepped in a role because she was needed.  I’m excited for the opportunities of service she’s going to find when they get back in August.  And Lawton’s not escaping his role as Executive Director of Moving Stuff ever.  But I’ll still miss the Graves’ during the hot Tally summer.

More may come later in the week, but my Dean-isms of the night is this:

“To deny Jesus is to deny God…Half of you are probably mad and leaving next week as I say that–but if that’s you then I’m grateful you’re leaving knowing that.”

What a night.  What a semester.  Summer here we come!

All you stalkers out there take note.

In most areas of my life I’m a patient person.  I have a pit fall in this area, though.

I’m incredibly impatient when it comes to lines.

Two types of lines in particular, actually.

Lines involving cars.  And lines involving shopping carts.

I’m not an aggressive driver.  And I’m not from South Florida.  I’m just not a fan of drivers who are simply there for the ride.  I’m in it for the destination when I’m behind the wheel.  Get me there and get me out.  In my chick magnet Corolla nonetheless.

In lines, I’m the guy who will scan 37 items in self checkout at a store to avoid having to wait in a normal cue.

WalMart on any given Saturday might as well be the vein of my existence.  I can’t do it.  I hate it, actually.

Even worse, however, is Sams Club.

Never, ever, are there enough cashiers at Sams Club.  I often go to the Photo Department, or the Cigarette Shop, to check out, but this doesn’t always work.  I’ve waited in line for 40 minutes at Sams.  And I’m not exaggerating.  I’ll check email on my phone.  I’ll poeple watch.  I’ll sigh and stare and roll my eyes when the seven people ahead of me all decide to write checks.  I’ll help other people unload their buggies.  I’ll position carts for easy loading and unloading.  I’ll turn items upc barcode side down and out for faster scanning.

But it never helps.  The time in line creeps by.

And now here’s the real point.  At Sams Club, you wait in the line to check out.  And then you wait in another line.

A line where granny-go-get-em heards you like cattle in the name of security.

You wait in one line just to wait in another.

And granny (it’s always a granny. And I like grannies, don’t get me wrong.  Just not grannies who are involved in my store departures) is faux security.  She really can’t do anything. She’s a ploy.

There are 15 check out lanes at Sams.  But only one granny.

A while back I stopped waiting for her.  I buzzed on through.

She shouted at me.  I flashed her my receipt.  She didn’t know what to do.  So I kept going.

The next time I tried the same thing.  This granny stood in the way of the door.  I told her I owned these groceries and I wanted to leave and she was holding me hostage.  And then she did what she always does.  She took my receipt and began to count.  A fake count, really.  A count of how many things were in my cart.  And for some reason, when the grannies count, they have to touch every item.  I asked her not to touch any of mine.  I told her I now owned all of these things.  I had paid for them.  And I would appreciate if she didn’t touch my stuff.  She wouldn’t like it if I touched her things.  And besides, she was still holding me hostage.

On another occasion I asked why I had to stop.  I was told “becuase you’re a member here.”  That didn’t make too much sense to me.

One time the manager was standing in granny’s place.  I tried to get out without waiting.  The manager went on about how I agreed to wait in this evil line because I was  member, and I signed a contract.  I asked the manager to produce a copy of the contract.  To show me where this stipulation was present.  He was caught.  He didn’t know where.  He let me go.  But he still touched all of my stuff.

I told my dad about my issues with Sams Club.  He agreed.  And the next time he went shopping there, he fled.  He flashed the receipt, and kept on walking.

They got on the walkie.  They cried out that “we have a runner.”  And a squad of grannies chased him down.  My mother watched from a far.  Shaking her head.  And they touched all of his things, too.  Out in the parking lot.  As he was loading the car.

I guess you know where I get it from…

I realize I’ve probably wasted more time fighting the system than just waiting in the line.  But that’s not the point.  I like to think of myself as an activist.  This is my cause.  I’m a community organizer, one man against the system, fighting the good fight for the betterment of all.

I do like Costco, though.

They hardly ever have lines.

And they have a sign.

I can’t argue with a sign.  And an explanation.

That’s all I need.  Me, my sign, and my Costco granny.

One man.  Fighting the good fight to stick it to the Man.

Just don’t touch all my stuff.

“At the end of the day I love me and I don’t think that’s wrong,”

and:

“30 percent of college students agree with the statement: “If I show up to every class, I deserve at least a B”

Read Generation Me

After several hours of work on Friday, the three Matt’s (Robinson, Folsom, and Long) constructed an enormous video wall.  23 feet by 6 feet, the thing is freakin’ huge.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to pull this off for three or four months now.  It took the procurement of some hardware, some software, and the construction of the screen (and the borrowing of a couple of projectors), but we pulled off a $100,000 setup (literally) for about 100 bucks.  It was, in a word: cool.  (And the trick,if you’re wondering: $2.17 WalMart vinyl shower curtains!)

Why?  We’ve always viewed our Sunday Service as the Superbowl.  It’s the time we’ve been entrusted to reach people.  We know that a service or a production is never going to bring people there.  That’s on the back (or on the arm as we like to say) of a trusted friend who invites.  But, once someone does come, we work as hard as we possibly can to create an environment where they want to come back.

Now I grew up with hymnals and pews, and I’m not dissing those.  But people’s favorite expereience revolve around grand prdocutions.  Think a Kenny Chesney concert (or heck, even think a Miley Cirus concert).  Their production and video and lights and sound set the bar for how the audio, visual, and engaged prdocution interact with an indiviudal.  Why can’t the church do the same thing to reach people with its message?  Why can’t we get to a point where we’re setting the bar and they’re trying to be like us?

Their was tension at first last night.  Yes, we really did play that song.  And yes, those words (well, almost those words) we reon the screen.  Dean’s sermon was so clear.  So understandable.  And so huge if you think about its implications.

Dean-isms:

• “Continue those conversations…”
• “In some of your houses you weren’t even allowed to say gosh, darn, or freak”
• “We wanted to create the tension for you.”
• “Any of you South Florida folks here?  You cussed 10 times on your way here tonight.”
• “Walking into Well Kids and saying the F Word right now…and walking into an upper-level philosophy class at Florida State and saying Jesus Christ is the only way to Heaven…it’s the same as walking into Kids and saying the F Word.”
• “God did not call me to be popular.  He told me to preach the truth.”
• “Some people just can’t get over the absolutes of Christianity…there’s only one way to get there.”
• “I wish salvation was going to Beef O Brady’s and watching the NFL draft all day…man I would be in!”
• “It’s not about being a great guy.”
• “A god that does not punish sin…I don’t want to believe in that god, becuase he’s not much of a god…I might as well believe in Santa as my savior.”
• “Yeah, but’s are not going to get you there.”
• “It’s not about your “bad,” it’s about you’re guilty.”
• “Good people don’t go to Heaven, perfect people go to Heaven.”
• “The one He sent and died a death on our behalf is the one who makes us perfect.”

And as a Monday treat: my girl Susan Boyle’s got some competition now.

For some odd reason, it’s turned in to one of “those” weeks.

I had a professor in college who used to speak about his “no inbox” policy.  He believed if you had to do it, get it done, and then you didn’t have to worry about it.  He’d literally write a letter of recommendation in front of you while you waited in his office.  Seconds after you may have asked him.  He always seemed to be so laid back, so non rushed, and so un-busy.

I’ve admitted before that I’m a to-do lister.  But the problem is, I try combining the no inbox policy today with a no inbox policy three days from now.  And lately, its jut left me flustered.

In the end, everything’s going to get done.  Or at least everything that needs to get done.  I’ve spent the last month, after scoldings and warnings and voices of concern speaking into my life, calming down a bit.  I’ve watched an ounce more tv.  I’ve read a bit more.  I’ve played a little longer.

And everything’s still gotten done.

My students are finding Jesus again, too.  It’s that time of the semester.  When they start believing miracles can happen.  With t-minus a week and a half left, I’m looking forward to eight glorious weeks off for the first half of the summer.

I’m looking forward to never watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition again, because I balled last night after watching the Tallahassee special from Sunday night.

I’m looking forward to Seattle in two weeks and just getting away, seeing best friends, and going on an adventure for a week.

I’m looking forward to making some decisions it’s time to make at The Well.  Continue to pray for our staff!

I’m looking forward to the culmination of two years of my professional life unveiling itself in the coming weeks.

And I’m looking forward to watching Susan Boyle kick some serious butt in Britain’s Got Talent.  Though she’s Scottish, she reminds me a lot of the family I’ve gotten to meet in England.  She’s my person-of-interest for the week.

Best line of writing I read on a blog today:  “I was a very miserable teenager. My journals hold the proof and my mom holds the pain.”

And best burger I hope to someday have a bite of (sorry Sunshine Meets Rain! :)

You can watch the rest at TheWellTallahassee.com!

And there’s many more to come!

from Easter on the Moon in the News

(special thanks to Megan Burgess, our Media and Public Relations Coordinator)

WCTV’s Coverage of Easter on The Moon, April 12, 2009

The Tallahassee Democrat, April 13, 2009