It Wasn't My Finest Athletic Achievement, But It Was My Most Profitable

In 2009 I traveled to the MW tournament in Las Vegas as I have done every year since. Our women's and men's teams both made the conference championship game. During the women's game I was visiting with some friends a few sections over chatting when a gentleman approached us and asked my friend if he wanted to participate in a halftime competition.

I immediately jumped in and said "I'LL DO IT!" My friend said no he wanted to participate so we agreed to settle this dispute like the ancient kings of old: through a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Of course we were abiding by the standard, best two out of three format.

Little did he know that many a disputes have been settled in the Bishop household through games of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Things like who gets the last spot in the game of James Bond 007: Golden Eye or who gets to ride shotgun when two people called it simultaneously.

The first round of RPS is irrelevant. Obviously it is better if you win but identifying and discerning the pattern of your opponent is really the point of it all. Then you mix what you already know of your opponent (ie personality type, likelihood to risk etc) with what their first move is and it's a simple science.
In this circumstance, my opponent was a kid a few years younger than I who wasn't the most socially dominant character around. I don't remember what his exact moves were, but I do remember that he won the first round and I quickly dispatched him in the next two.

Anyway having been victorious in the first contest my next quest was to win the real battle. I had no idea what my prize would be but I thought more than anything I was at a women's college  basketball game it would be my chance to look good in front of thousands hundreds of people.. EVERYTHING I'VE EVER WANTED.

I got down to the court and I was told the rules. I had to make 5 shots from around the key before my opponent. The winner won free gas money for a year. "What does that mean exactly?" I asked with anticipation of a response far less appealing than the initial description. "Well you get $3,000 in gas cards to 76 stations. You get six $500 cards."

"I must win this contest and destroy my loser opponent. And if he somehow wins I will kill him in his sleep tonight." I exclaimed out loud for everyone to hear.

Anyway, Sarah Eishen was nice enough to document this event and this past week I tracked her down to see if she still had it. She uploaded it to YouTube and you all get the pleasure of watching it. 

                                   

So I count myself shooting 4-12 (33%) from around the key. An embarrassing number no doubt. But if you look at my opponent he is still at the free throw line while I am chest bumping a giant gas pump themed mascot. Regardless of my poor shooting.. I was $3000 in gas cards richer. In your face middle east crisis!

Life's Inevitable Pandora Commercials

So I have this amazing station on Pandora. Through the wonderful function of "like" and "dislike" I have molded and shaped what started as, "Solo Piano Radio", down to what I would constitute as the soundtrack to my life. It's been over a year in the making and I only recently perfected this beautiful medley that I usually put on to wind down from the day and read.

Currently I'm reading The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis. The station tempers my mind and eases my frustration as a I am forced to reread paragraph after paragraph of Lewis' incredibly intellectual rhetoric. Sometimes I will really get on a role and as I digest one meaningful passage after another I begin to drift off into a beautiful and peaceful place of oneness in my mind and heart. I find myself perfectly comfortable and content with all of life and accepting of all circumstances. I've got my comfy bed or couch, I've got my favorite author, and I've got Heaven's melodies resonating from my iPhone dock as it plays my "Solo Piano Radio" Pandora station.

Then it happens. One magnificent instrumental beautifully comes to an end as I amiably anticipate the next one I am instead greeted with:

"AT $399 A MONTH FOR A 30 MONTH LEASE YOU CAN BE QUALIFIED TO PURCHASE A BEAUTIFUL MERCEDES BENZ FROM MERCEDES BENZ OF ESCONDIDO. VISIT US 1101 WEST 9TH AVENUE IN ESCONDIDO FOR THE LOWEST RATES ON ANY MERCEDES IN CALIFORNIA. CLICK THE BANNER AND FIND OUT MORE INFORMATION ABOUT HOW YOU CAN ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS IN STYLE "

All harmony flies out the window as my flow is utterly disrupted. It reminds me of when I was a kid and I refused to wake up in the morning to go to school. After three times of asking, my mom would come up to my bed and aggressively pull the covers straight off from me. It's a sort of "yanked from the womb" type of feeling. Peace and tranquility are gone, replaced by a startling realization that the opposite of my previous state exists and it is currently shoving my soul into a locker like a bully does to a high school freshman. 

Of course this 20-30 seconds of terror eventually ends but it can take me a few minutes to get back into my groove of contentment. Sometimes I never recover at all. 

Such is life right? Sometimes it's going so well. The birds are singing, the sun is shining, things are good. Everything is where it should be and I'm at a perfect emotional equilibrium. Then the proverbial Pandora commercial hits. A complaint comes through at work, or I get word that something bad happened to a close friend or family member, or for no reason at all, an old thought or feeling surfaces that causes fear, anxiety, loneliness, or worse. 

There's an unnaturalness to it all. I want to say, "This isn't how it's suposed to be! I made life's playlist a certain way! I 've been scheming for years to 'like' some things and keep them around, and 'dislike' other things to keep them away. I want my life's playlist to be perfect! Where did this come from and why do I feel so powerless over this circumstance?" No matter how much I wish it, circumstances that disturb my peace will never go away. Ever. At least not on this side of Heaven.

So then I'm left with a choice. How long am I going to let this event bother me? How long will I let this feeling linger and spoil my current tasks? Some days are better than others. I think accepting the fact that these disruptions are inevitable, that I am not entitled to seamless joy and euphoria, is pivotal. The next beautiful song will come eventually. I've just got to be patient. All things pass. This will too. 

I suppose I could just pay for the premium version and skip the ads. 

Nah that would be cheating. 

My Life as a Guitar String

Often times when I explain my process of growth and healing to people I see confused looks on their faces. I've been accused of being overly dramatic about my flaws and nitpicky about my own character. I mean after all I am generally a good person. I don't drink to much, I'm not active in any kind of addiction, I don't have horrible relationships with my family or friends, so what is the big deal? Maybe you've been encouraged by someone else to go into counseling and you look at your own life and ask yourself the same question. To that I bring to you the following metaphor from my life this week:

My mom bought me a guitar a long time ago. I think I was still in middle school when it was given to me as a Christmas gift. For years I barely touched it. Even when she signed me up for lessons I never practiced during the week. The lessons she paid for were really a waste of time and money, I had no motivation to learn how to play the guitar. But my junior year of college a roommate taught me the four chords I needed to know to pretty much play every worship song written before 2010. G, D, Em, C. Since then I've gone through seasons of playing it a lot, sometimes even 4 or 5 times a week.

Yesterday I took the day off of work. I met with my mentor early in the morning and afterwards I just felt like taking a personal day so I texted my boss saying I was going to be out of the office. It was the perfect time to get things done that I had wanted to do for a while. One of them was to take my guitar in to get new strings put on it. I've had my guitar for probably 10 years now and I think I put new strings on it once, maybe 4 years ago. I honestly only did this out of obligation, because I really couldn't hear anything wrong with it. But usually I play a lot more in the winter (maybe it's the long, quiet nights that inspires creativity I don't know), so I thought why not and I took it in.

When I got to this guitar shop I had the following interaction:

Me: Hi, can you guys put new strings on my guitar?
Guitar guy: Yeah we can do that what type of strings do you want?
Me: Umm.. Acoustic. 
Guitar guy [with a look that makes me realize I am way out of my element]: Well what size?
Me: Oh gosh bro I don't know. Is there a basic size?
Guitar guy: Let me see your guitar, dude. 

I took my guitar out of it's case and handed it to him. He started plucking the strings and playing different chords. His face expressed he was in pain as he played up and down the strings, hammering on and off... I thought it sounded just fine.

Guitar guy: When was the last time you had your strings replaced?
Me: I don't know 3 or 4 years ago.
Guitar guy: And you just play it like it is? Doesn't it bother you?
Me: No it's kind of the way it's always been I've never noticed anything different.
Guitar guy: Alright man well why don't I clean the frets, put some heavier strings on it and tune it up for you and I promise you it will sound a lot better. It'll be about 25 bucks.
Me: You're the boss. 

I watched him as he took off the old, dusty strings that apparently could be used for interrogation purposes at Guantanamo Bay. He scrubbed the neck of the guitar and oiled it up leaving a clean and glossy finish. Then he put on the new, heavier strings.

Readers of my blog, I must tell you, my guitar sounds a million times better. I mean I didn't get better overnight, the guitar itself just sounds so much clearer and resounds with chords in a way that it never has. The songs I've played for years sound different. They sound like new. 

It took someone with experience and expertise on the matter to recognize just how much room there was for improvement. I couldn't see it in the middle of it all, it was just the way it had always been. I had accepted the sound.

Sometimes I think we can do this with our lives. We become accepting with the status quo of our way of thinking, feeling, and behaving and we come to believe one of the most dangerous lies out there, "well this just the way it is." Then we run into people who know beauty when they see it and know dysfunction just the same and our way is exposed as faulty. Sure you're surviving, but are you thriving?

Watching this guitar magician put new strings on was where I first thought of this metaphor. I imagined myself as the strings and God as this bearded, tattooed, hip guitar guy. The strings shoved down at one end, then stretched to the point where I thought it would break and pulled through the other end. Then he pulls back on the string further than I thought it was capable, releases it and as it slams against the neck of the guitar he tunes it to perfection. This guy knew exactly where these strings needed to be, exactly what they are capable of enduring, and exactly how they needed to sound. The entire process of getting it to sound good just looked entirely rough and violent. I wouldn't want to be one of those strings.

Oh but I am one of those strings. Hopefully I always will be to one extent or another. Always being stretched, always being fine tuned, even being replaced if defective or ugly sounding. And if I ever get comfortable and think I've got it all together, I hope there's always an unkempt, bearded, tattooed up, guitar guy to set me straight.

Or something like that.

Psalm 40:3 He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the LORD.

How I'm feeling right now.

Translation from first lines in Hebrew:

"Let it be your will that my words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart come before you, God my rock my redeemer."

Today This Happened at Work

I understand if you are left speechless. 

Swiss Cheese Personalities

So as an aspiring therapist half way through my graduate school courses I tend to continually assess the people I interact with on a daily basis. This has not come as a result of my graduate school, I think I've done this my entire life, so therapy is more of a natural fit for me. I have a natural curiosity about what makes people think, feel, and behave the way they do in the circumstances that they are in. When I'm in an entirely healthy and surrendered place, this assessment trait of mine is quite useful to relate and empathize with others. They feel loved and I feel connected without any value judgement being made. When I'm in a selfish or defensive posture, this trait can be manipulative, judgmental, and just plain cruel. The trait itself is neutral, it's the inner disposition of my soul that needs to be held accountable toward loving others.

Some people are more open than others to hearing feedback on my thoughts. All of my best friends share a willingness to listen to myself and others speak into their behaviors and ask questions about their motivations. Of course this is reciprocated and I also try to have an open posture for others to do the same to me. The freedom I have found by not pretending to have my shit together and to let others speak into my life has been such a relief. Who was I fooling all along anyway?

But then there are people who are resistent and defensive towards anybody who hints that something may be a little bit off in their life. And I do mean anybody. I'm not talking about a healthy boundary that guards against someone who they don't know and don't trust shaming them. I'm talking about the people-- I think we all know them-- who refuse to be reasoned with about their obviously defective behavior. It seems that anybody in a position of authority that could critique them is somehow disqualified. These people think that their pastor is an idiot, their boss is incompetent, their family is crazy, and their professor is unfair.

As someone who is very introspective, these people can really set me off. Their inability or, better yet, unwillingness to let others hold a mirror up to them drives me crazy! How can you go on so unaware and blind to your own behaviors? But hey-- I've certainly had my own stubborn pride in my past and I'm sure even now there are areas of my life that have yet to be uncovered that are harming me and possibly others.

One of the biggest defenses I hear from people who don't want to look at themselves is a boasting about another successful area of their life. You see this a lot with people who struggle with alcohol abuse but make lots of money so somehow that means that they don't have a problem. These "high functioning alcoholics" have a higher potential for arrest and death than the drunk who is on the side of the road. The drunk on the side of the road is a lot closer to knowing about his own unmanageability and asking for help than the millionaire accountant who just bought his second home. Or how about the 21 year old college student who is addicted to pornography but is leading bible studies through his church? He looks really good in his small group and people really enjoy his thoughts and ideas, so the consequences for his acting out are much harder for him to see.
It is very difficult to speak into the lives of these two people because somehow they see an intervention on their acting out behavior as a threat to their entire person. To that I offer the following analogy I picked up in class tonight. We were talking about assessing for "developmental holes" in a client. These can be big indicators as to what your forms of treatments can be with them. Think of their personality as a slice of cheese. A perfectly healthy, well adjusted, emotionally mature, securely attached person is going to have absolutely no holes to speak of. Everything is going to be filled and whole. Jesus Christ was a nice slice of cheese. Complete and whole, lacking nothing.


You and I? We are swiss cheese. Because of the fall of man, because of sin, because of wounding, pain, fear, selfishness, and more we have holes in our being. Does this mean that we are evil? No. It makes us human and in a beautiful way it allows us to connect with each other in our imperfection. I may have a good job, in graduate school, and serving at my church but I'm fooling myself if I believe that those things make me completely whole. And I'm doing myself and those close to me wrong in thinking that just because I have a nice thick piece of cheese in one area, that I am not empty and lacking in another. This past weekend I was confronted by a very close friend for something very cruel that I did months ago in an effort to make others laugh. Is it fair of me to say, "Oh yeah I know I did that but I don't have an issue with insensitivity and cruelty because I'm generally a loving and kind person who is empathetic and in a lot of ways courageous!" Of course not! People are messy. People are whole in some ways and empty in others. Sometimes it's confusing as all get out how one person can display both strong positive traits and strong negative traits but believe me my direct family is living proof of that.

But let's scale it back just a little bit and drive it home. Let's say you are typically a wonderful worker at your job or in your classroom. If a boss critiques a report you turned in or an interaction you had with a client, are you willing to hear that feedback? Or do you take it as an attack on your entire worth as an employee and gossip about him after he leaves? If a professor in one of your courses gives you a C on a paper you wrote, are you willing to listen to his assessment of your writing? Are you willing to consider the possibility that he could be exposing a hole in your cheese? Or are you going to point to the part of your cheese that is thick and full, like the rest of your GPA, and immediately discredit the professor as unfair and irrational?

I am no where near perfect in this regard, but I invite you to join me in this journey of realizing our own swiss cheese personalities and accepting others feedback and assessment when we get it. Take it as a gift, because people, especially those closest to us, see us physically exponentially more than we see ourselves (unless you're a narcissist with a mirror in your face all day I suppose). It might be possible that they have a much better view of us emotionally and cognitively as well. They may see the holes in our cheese a lot easier than we do. If they approach you relationally and gently, chances are they are right.

A Desire to Desire

I just started reading the Bible consistently for the first time in my life about a month ago. I always grew up learning scripture through going to Church but I never had a dedicated routine the way I thought a good Christian should. When I got into college I would have sporadic quiet times where I would read the bible but nothing every day to day.

Then about 2 months ago I started to read Walking With God by John Eldridge and in that book I marveled and the real and authentic relationship Eldridge is able to have with God. I wanted what he had and I started to pray that I would desire God more and more. Since then I have been reading scripture quite a lot. In reflection I think I have started to realize why the Bible would turn me off in years past. I would read the Pslams or the letters of Paul and I would compare my experience with their writings. This discrepancy between the two would be filled with feelings of guilt and doubt. I don't know if I ever consciously named it, but when I would leave those times feeling empty and jaded it's as if I was brushing scripture away and saying "It's too confusing to read this because I can't relate so I'm not even going go try."

Today God pinned me down in a quiet times and challenged what my desires in life are currently. I started to think and started listing them off. Most of the desires are good desires that I know God has placed in me. But then He told me to read Pslam 42.

Psalm 42:1 As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.

Pant - To long demonstratively; yearn.

If I were to write this verse in my current experience it would say:
"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for graduate school to hurry the crap up so I can graduate already." 
or 
"...so my soul pants for a girl to make me feel better tonight because I don't feel good." 
or 
"...so my soul pants for a legitimate head coach for the Chargers to finally instill a sense of pride in this team."
But rarely does my soul pant for God. Sometimes it does, and I always feel closest to Him and most at peace with myself during that time but it's not my consistent experience. 
Tonight God reminded me that it's okay to be honest with where I'm at with Him. Somehow I always forget. So I ended up praying something like this:

"God I have so many desires in my life and the thing is most of them are months away from being attained and there's really nothing I can do about it. But here you are ready and attainable and I don't desire you the way I want to and the way the writers of the Psalms do. But I desire to desire You in that way."

Bingo. 

I knew that that was enough for Him. What a beautiful place to start. I want to desire God the way I desire a National Championship for Aztec Basketball or a Superbowl ring for the Chargers. I want to desire him the way I desire this girl I'm quite fond of and think about often. I want to desire him the way I desire sleeping in after a long night of fun. So I got this sense that there's a lot of grace for me right now and He's going to honor that desire and place that deeper in me. 

The Name Of This Blog

I named this blog after one of my favorite bible verses:

1 Corinthians 1:25-28 Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For you see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;And base things of the world, and things which are despised, has God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nothing things that are:

One day I want to write a children's book called "The Things Which Are Not". I don't know what it's going to be about yet except for a theme that speaks to kids who struggle with finding their self worth because their strengths may not line up with what our culture values. 

I'm a pretty popular guy at this point in my life. Most people like me and find me interesting. Sometimes I even get to take an attractive girl out on a date or two. But growing up I had huge insecurities and I was one of the more unpopular kids in school. 

Some insecure kids try to earn their validation through other means like high academics achievements. I went to a charter school my senior year of high school to raise my grades high enough to make it into SDSU. I think I graduated high school with a GPA around a 2.5. Some insecure kids try to earn their validation through sports, I was 5'4 heading into my junior year of high school and was always one of the worst players on any youth team I was a part of. Some insecure kids try to find their validation in their physical appearance. For some absurd reason I wanted to have a flat top through early years of high school. Combine that with braces and two fake teeth up front and I was not a very attractive teenager. 
So some insecure kids are quiet because they've learned that when they are the nail that stick out, they get the hammer. That lesson never caught on with me so I was constantly trying to earn my worth through humor or acting out to get attention. 

I was not smart (at least academically), I was not athletic, I was not good looking, and I was not wise enough to keep quiet. All that attention I received by trying to be funny was mostly negative attention. I envy people who say they enjoyed high school, my experience was anything but a safe and positive environment. 

Most people are surprised when I tell them I was bullied through high school and quite unpopular. I suppose at some point I grew up socially and began to realize all the things that I would need to do to win at this social game of life.

But here's the thing, that 15 year old, insecure kid that begs for attention is still me. Sure my braces are off and I've learned a few lessons but I can't turn my back on that 15 year old Matt or else I'm just recreating the same rejection he went through at 15. I'm doing the same thing to him that others did to him. 
According to the world (which in high school meant the jury of popular kids), I was foolish, weak, base (meaning uninteresting and boring), I was not anything anyone wanted any part of. 

And God chose me. Chooses me. To tell my story and be of influence in this world to others who struggle with their identity. 
Some of my current friends tell me that I am so confident when I speak in front of groups or when I flirt with girls. That doesn't come from an inflated sense of ego and thinking that I'm the man. It comes from realizing that I'm not, but that's not where my validation comes from anyway. 

Don't hear what I'm not saying: I still struggle with wanting the approval of this world, but day by day I've come to realize that I don't want to play this game anymore. 

Sometimes I wish I could go back to 15 year old Matt and tell him he doesn't have to strive for others attention. But then maybe if he didn't have to face the rejection that he experienced he wouldn't have had that gaping hole that caused him to search for something more. I'm glad I went on that search, because it forced me to face God and realize I had transferred all of the qualities I faced in this world onto him. 

"Why would God want anything to do with me? I'm not what he wants."

"You're right and wrong Matt. You are not. But you're exactly what I want."

Rylan

Rylan.

I don’t know if that’s how you spell his name.

I met Rylan in Belize. My best friend Jay and I were vacationing away from our busy lives (he works in finance in DC and I am full time employee and full time graduate student.) We were on the beautiful island of San Pedro on our second night on the island and that's when my story with Rylan starts up. It is the slow season for tourists (because it’s warm temperature in the US) so we’re in a pretty empty bar having some drinks. Jay and I are talking and Rylan walks over to talk to us. Rylan is a local Belizian who has dyed his hair blonde. It’s straight and wavy. He’s average height but very skinny. He starts asking us about where we’re from and what we do and it becomes pretty apparent that Rylan is testing the waters to see if we’re gay. I am NOT being overly sensitive or defensive, he was flirting with us. I mean I can’t really blame him, San Pedro has a population of about 7,000 people on it, most everybody knows each other and I’m sure he knows just about every gay man on the island. Two young guys vacationing together in Belize is certainly worth scoping out considering his circumstances.

Anyway Rylan is with his friend Brittany (an American living in San Pedro) who we also got to know pretty well. I could do an entire blog about her too.

We spend a lot of time with both of them as the week progresses. They are both filthy rich and very young. Rylan’s aunt is the former mayor of San Pedro and his dad owns a waterfront bar that is very popular. His entire family comes from money and from talking to him I can tell he has faced very little consequences in his life.

He drank a lot while we were there. From talking to him and Brittany it appears that it’s just what their life is. Neither of them work or go to school. The culture of the island is to party, from their own words “There’s not much else to do.” 

One day we are all eating lunch and as Rylan was placing a spoon full of beans in his mouth I notice his wrist. All up and down his left wrist are scars. Rylan has apparently been a cutter at some time in his life. Perhaps he even attempted to commit suicide, I don’t know. My heart dropped as I begin to try to understand where all that pain comes from. I begin to talk more and more to him and Brittany about what his life has been like and what his aspirations are and I settle on this fact by the end of the trip: Apart from his best friend Brittany, Rylan doesn't belong anywhere.

Let me back up by explaining to you what Rylan is surrounded by and I'll start with what I observed of the culture of Belize.. They aren’t too different from what I would experience going out in Southern California.  Most people wear shorts, t-shirts and sandals. There’s a simple and relaxed atmosphere that makes people very friendly. The common language is an English creel, which fascinated me. The most popular sport there is basketball (love) and there are pick up games at most times of the day. Most people work in some form of the tourist industry, meaning a lot of long hours and physical labor. The guys there are big. The public schools are poorly educated and most men start to work full time in their mid teens.

Rylan was put into “The Island Academy” when he was very young. This private school is where the rich Americans, Europeans, and Belizians of San Pedro send their kids. It’s a few miles south of the main part of town and the teachers there are Americans. Rylan never learned the native creel language of Belize. He said he can understand it but will never speak it. He’s never had to work and so he's spent a lot of his time in doors; his skin is just as white as mine even though he is Belizian. So here you have a rich, homosexual, local who does not speak his own country's language. If you spoke to Rylan you would think he was probably a kid from a big coastal city in the USA. So maybe he would do well in the states. But here’s the thing, we were having lunch one day and Rylan was talking about how one day he wants to move to San Fransisco. Brittany laughed and told him she doesn’t think he could ever make it in the states. In San Pedro he’s a big deal. He can do whatever he wants without facing any consequences. His laundry is done for him, his meals are provided for him, he lacks nothing. She said the simple tasks of living in a big city would be too overwhelming for him: public transportation, paying bills, abiding by laws that have consequences.

Well what about his family? Even when all else fails we can at least fall back on the safety of those relationships. Parents who raised us and nurtured us and want what is best for us. While Jay and I were there, Belize was celebrating it’s independence day. On an otherwise very fun night filled with fireworks and dancing, Rylan had way to much to drink. Brittany and I decided it would be best if we took him back to his apartment. We hopped in her golf cart (the most common form of street transportation, only taxis and government vehicles are cars) and began to drive him home. We were sitting in the back and I was holding on to him making sure he didn’t fall back off the cart. Rylan lay on my lap and clutched at my hand. I felt for the kid so much in that moment. I started praying for him. How long had he been abusing alcohol to cover up the all the pain in his life? Probably for a while. Rylan’s apartment was on the second floor of a building. To enter into it, you walk up a spiral staircase on the outside up about 12 feet and it puts you onto a balcony with no railing or fence. As I was trying to get Rylan up the stairs, he became coherent and pushed my hands away. He ran up the stairs and before I could grab him he threw himself off his balcony back onto the street. It scared the shit out of me. Brittany and I rushed to him to see if he was okay and he was somewhere in between laughing and crying. Thank God nothing appeared to be majorly injured. Brittany started yelling at him saying that she’s calling his dad and he can’t scare us like that. Rylan cracked a smile and drunkingly uttered something to the extent of “Brittany, you know my family, they don’t care about me. I could die tonight and my dad would be relieved.” My heart broke. The kid was the furthest thing from stable I could think of but there was no lie in his eyes and tone. His personality certainly didn’t scream of someone who had been fathered much either.

So here is Rylan. He doesn’t fit in with masculine male culture of the island because he’s gay. He doesn’t fit in with the common Belizians of the island because he’s rich and he doesn’t speak their language. He really doesn’t fit in with Americans either because as much as you would mistake him for one, he has never learned basic functioning, or at least enough to “survive” in a big city. I believe Brittany when she said that. By all appearances he couldn’t boil an egg. Then you have his family that has allowed this 18 year old kid to live alone in an apartment and by his own accounts, would feel relieved if he died.

And I began to think about belonging. How as humans we have an innate desire to want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves and to have that thing accept us. This ranges from family to football. We want to belong. A sense of belonging gives us something to fall back on when life is tough.  Recently I went through a really tough break up that has left me with a few nights feeling awfully lonely. Lonliness is the worst. I feel so utterly trapped in the midst of it and if I’m not careful I can go into any number of numbing mechanisms to escape that. I can drink too much, watch too much TV, become obsessive with sports, or eat myself into a food coma. I’ve tried to be as intentional as I can to not turn to those things and to allow myself to just sit in this feeling and invite God into this process instead of turning to the world’s “strength” for comfort. In the midst of the loneliness, I have sensed God’s invitation to connect with him and other men in my life. To be of more service and go to work on a lot of my character defects (I’m back in counseling). I didn’t belong to my girlfriend anymore and in that absence I have sensed God’s invitation, “come belong to me”. With that has come growing closer with my guy friends, has come growing closer with my older brother Trevor, has come being intentional about talking on the phone with my best friends in other cities. I don’t belong to Kyleigh anymore, but I have belonging.

Rylan has no belonging. He’s a burden to his family, an outcast from his society, and a stranger to America. I regretfully never spoke to him about his view of God, but I can only assume he has a very distant relationship with Him, if one at all. Of course he’s going to medicate with alcohol. Of course he’s going to dramatically cry for attention by jumping off balconies. Of course he’s going to wound himself and despise himself by cutting his wrists. He has no place to belong.

Brittany was so upset at Rylan as we were driving him back to his apartment that night. All I could do is hold this little kid and pray that God would do a miracle in His life. “You have a home Rylan. This world will never be it though. You have a Father that cares so deeply about you. God please show Yourself to Rylan. Break through the lies and hurt, and pain, and rejection and speak the truth of Your love in His heart. Don't give up kid. Stay safe. God bless him. You are a God of miracles. Show him that He belongs in you.

I don't have facebook because I realized it was another way I could escape my feeling and numb out. I say that because I couldn't "friend him" when I got home. I pray he's doing okay. That God has worked a miracle. That Rylan has found a place that he belongs.