Matt W Cook

writer.former fundamentalist.christianly fellow

Dora the Lover

    For a while I was despairing about finding children’s media that I felt good enough to share with my kids. Ponyo was a great film, to be sure, but I was looking for something smaller and repeatable, like a TV series. But the vast majority of them are empty and mindless. Shows like Spongebob strike me as the unfiltered imaginings of an insane ten-year-old.
    Then I found Dora the Explorer. My kids love it almost as much as I do. It’s about a bilingual brown girl who runs around with her best friends exploring and discovering. Here’s why I love it:

  • Dora explores and embraces racial diversity. Her skin is dark and she speaks more than one language. She takes part in different cultural celebrations. Difference is good in Dora’s world. Not something to be hidden, but something to be celebrated. She doesn’t try to make us all the same, she rejoices in all our differences. This is wild because just recently Joseph noticed that I am a different color than Ruth and that we are both different from him. For a second, as he was asking about it, I saw a glimmer of confusion on his face. I told him he was right, that we are all different, and I acted excited about that. “Isn’t it neat that we are all different colors?” And Dora backs me up on that, whatever the kids at school might say.
  • Dora is a hard-working helper. Like the time when her friend Boots lost his truck and they had to climb a mountain to get it. Or the time her parents asked her to help with the babies and she spent the entire episode reading to them and feeding them banana baby food. While most children’s programs have heroes doing everything they can to get out of school and work, Dora embraces the tasks she gets and even asks for more.
  • Dora loves her enemies. Swiper is the villain of Dora’s universe. He goes around swiping Dora’s toys and food and anything else he can get his foxy hands on. He’s a klepto, I’m sure. He never gives Dora a moment’s rest. He’s a punk. But when Swiper, through his own crimes, was trapped in a magic bottle, Dora was quick to help. She didn’t say a word about Swiper’s swiping or about his guilt. She dropped everything to travel across the world and get the king to release him. And when Dora gets anything good that she can share, she tracks down Swiper to make sure he gets some of it. She doesn’t fight her enemies, she embraces them. Reminds me of a Man I know.
  • Dora never hates. She never has a harsh word for anyone. She holds no grudges. She only works against the ‘bad guys’ when to do otherwise would compromise her own high moral standards. And even then she does it gently, without anger.
  • Dora loves to sing and dance. She isn’t content to sit and sleep and eat. She wants to get up and move. She wants to dance. She wants to explore. She wants to get out of the place she is from and achieve and carry her unique light into the world.
  •     So if you have kids, go check out Dora. She’s a hero.

    Break Time

    I’m taking a tiny break from this. I’ll be back soon. Promise!

    Trading Freedom for Freedom

    My son just started taking Karate classes. I enjoy watching him out there on the mat, trying to keep up with the other students as the teacher leads them through kicks, punches whatnot. After class today he came up to me and told me how very badly he wanted his yellow belt. It was his second class. He’s ambitious, eh?

    My son is a free spirit. He rarely stays on one task for long. His eyes are always on the next ridge, seeking something new to explore and do. He’s free. He’s wild. I like him. But the freedom he is enjoying right now is not the kind of freedom that will get him his yellow belt. In fact, the freedom he has will hinder him from the freedom that the yellow belt proves.

    To get the yellow belt you need to demonstrate some of the basic moves and katas of karate. Joseph can’t do that. He is not free to do that.

    I’ve heard that discipline is the price of freedom. But I also think that freedom is the price of discipline. In order to be free to do Pinan Shodan, Joseph needs to gain focus and discipline. In order to gain focus and discipline, he needs to give up some of his lesser freedoms.

    It’s like that with everything, eh? Something for something.

    The price of freedom = discipline.
    The price of discipline = freedom.

    What Makes a Good Story

  • Good stories are convoluted, for life is convoluted. Anything true is deep and complicated. Every person is interesting and intricate. If these things are not true in a story, the story is lacking.
  • Good stories are beautiful, for life is beautiful. Without beauty the human soul cannot relate perfectly with a story. Without beauty something is missing.
  • Good stories are meaningful, for life is meaningful. In the deepest tragedies, in the most glorious victories and in everything in between there must be meaning. Otherwise why would I care about the story (or life) at all?
  • Good stories are difficult, for life is difficult. You cannot pull good things from life with wrestling. So it is with stories. They should not give up their treasures without a bit of a fight (but not too much).
  • Good stories are fun, for life is fun. A good story must entertain, because life is so very entertaining. If it were not so, why would we keep living?
  • Good stories are emotional, for life is emotional. The good story tugs on your heart, one way or the other. And it hardly seems to matter which way it tugs, so long as it tugs.
  • Good stories are epic, for life is epic. It could be the epic of a lone hobbit triumphing over the immortal dark lord. Or it could be the epic of an illiterate village girl finding, at the end of her life, a friend. The mundane can be epic. Indeed, it must be.
  • Good stories are fantastic, for life is fantastic. Fairies are wonderful things in stories. The fantastic, magical things that dwell in stories mirror the mighty wonders in our world that we cannot understand. Fairies are real, for they mirror something unknown and beautiful in reality. And if your reality is missing things like fairies, I wonder if it’s missing too much.
  • Good stories are truth, for life is true. I was once told that storytellers use lies to tell the truth. And that is the truth.
  • Good stories do not help you escape, for life does not. Entertainment that offers me an escape annoy me. I do not want to escape life, I want to live it more. A good story does not distract you from life. It shows you life. It helps you live life stronger and harder. If you want to escape, try drugs. If you want to live hard, read a good story.
  • No Longer Slaves

    I came across this neat news article, just in time for the fourth of July.

    It seems that when was drafting the Declaration of Independence, he was struggling for the right word to describe the American people. He settled on ‘citizens’, but originally he had written ‘subjects.’

    I find that wild. In the beginning Jefferson was going to confirm the convention that all men and women are slaves to the monarch or the state. But with one stroke of the pen he changed all that. No longer subjects, but citizens with rights and privileges and information.

    It made me think of the Bible. When you read the Old Testament you get the feeling that God is looking for subjects. That he’s looking for a bunch of people who will just do what they’re told without asking too many questions. But then Jesus came and made it clear that he was not after slaves at all, but citizens. Indeed, fellow citizens. People he could tell his plans to. People who could share the inheritance he earned. In a real way, brothers.

    Trying to Fly

    Joseph handed me one of his big story books and asked me to read to him the other day. The book was one of those large compilations of stories. I really have no idea where we got it, but he likes it. So I opened to the middle, picked a random story and started reading.

    A mouse named McWhiskers was walking around with a friend when they heard the news that Bru the Bear was planning to fly that afternoon and had invited everyone to come watch. McWhiskers immediately identified himself as the nay-sayer of the forest, as he commented on how bears simply cannot fly. But he went along anyway. They arrived at Bru’s place to see him piling crates up and attaching a pair of wings he had made to his arms. He was ecstatic. McWhiskers tried to rain on his parade by pointing out, again, that bears cannot fly. Bru was undaunted, though, and brushed his negativity aside.

    Of course, Bru’s attempts at flying failed. He leapt off the crates and flapped his wings hard, but crashed to the ground. McWhiskers had a polite ‘I told you so’ moment and finally convinced Bru to abandon his pursuit of flight altogether.

    The end.

    I decided to never read that story to Joseph again.

    Most people would say that McWhiskers was right to stop Bru. I mean, how could a bear ever hope to fly? It’s impossible! Indeed, if God had wanted Bru to fly, he would have given him wings. Good for you, Mr. McWhiskers, for stopping your silly friend from making a fool of himself.

    But was it really impossible for Bru to fly? Of course, the crude wings he made couldn’t do the job. But what if he built better wings? What if he devoted himself to learning about aerodynamics and trust and fuel and was able, after much work, to fashion a machine that would take him off the ground, just like we humans have? He would have flown. But he’ll never get that chance, you see, because McWhiskers talked him out of it.

    Imagine how much we would have lost if all the Brus of the world had listened to all the McWhiskers. We would have never advanced beyond the bronze age. We would have never done anything difficult or time-consuming. We would have never chased our dreams.

    McWhiskers, I think, is a cruel person. He himself had no ambition to fly, and so he saw fit to rob his friends of their ambition. And, in doing so, he became a murderer to dreams. Don’t be like McWhiskers. You never know when you may be cutting down a person who was destined to change the world.

    What Makes a Good Sermon

    I’m always a little sad when I see that sermons are starting to get weeded out of most people’s spirituality. I mean, I agree that sermons and listening to sermons should never be the main part of your Jesus-life, but I think they have a place. Or, at least, a use.

    I’ve always liked good sermons. And I enjoy preaching them. But, as much as I like good sermons, bad ones kill me. And if they kill me, I often wonder what people are going through when I preach a bad one. So I started to think, what makes a good sermon?

  • A good sermon is exciting. I don’t think excitement is optional when we are discussing Jesus. If you can discuss the Jesus-life and Jesus himself without a raised pulse, then you’re doing a lecture, rather than a sermon. Jesus is exciting. People who think he’s boring have only heard boring people talk about him.
  • A good sermon makes me want to be a better person. If I walk away from a sermon the exact same person I was when I walked in, I have to wonder why I went. Sermons are tools to prod us on to doing wild Jesus-filled things. They aren’t lectures on impersonal metaphysics.
  • A good sermon is true. It’s a poor preacher that has to lie to get his listeners to do what he wants. A good preacher only wants his listeners to fall more in love with Truth and to live it.
  • A good sermon is honest. People can smell hypocrisy a mile away. Do you know what hypocrisy smells like? It smells like poo. And when people think of your sermons, you don’t want them thinking about poo. Trust me.
  • A good sermon is clear. Preachers gain no points in being vague or aloof. No one thinks you’re smart because you know words like supralapsarianism. The preacher’s goal is to communicate divine messages. Not to impress.
  • A good sermon may rock the boat. The sermon on the mount rocked the boat. Just because everyone nods theirs heads and mumbles ‘amen’ does not mean the sermon is of any use. A good sermon changes people and makes the world a better place. And to do that, it may need to rock the boat a little.
  • What do you think makes a good sermon?

    As You’d Be Done By

    So as Jesus is closing off his famous sermon he encourages us to do to others whatever we’d have them do to us. And he backs it up by saying that this wild ethic is the embodiment of the Law and Prophets (which, I imagine, would have bothered the religious people listening).

    It got me thinking about how I’d like other people to treat me. If I could work my way in the world and dictate how people treated me, I think my list of demands would look something like this:

  • Love me. Give me attention when I want it. Give me affection. Show me respect. Speak of me in a positive way.
  • Help me. Bend over backwards to help me whenever I need it. Support and encourage me and my wild ideas with consistently positive energy. Heal me when I hurt and own my dreams.
  • Empathize with me. Rejoice when I rejoice. Weep when I weep. Do your best to see things from my point of view, even when you disagree with me.
  • Pretty selfish list, eh? But I guess that’s the point. If you were to make a list it might look different from mine in some point, but the basic foundation would be the same. We want the world to revolve around us. That’s just the way it is.

    And so, when Jesus tells us to treat others the way we want to be treated, it’s a pretty tall deal. That list is no longer and expectation or a hope to be called on from others. It’s a model of how I should treat those I am in contact with.

    Thank you, Jesus, for such a wild ethic that proves you’re different from everyone else!

    How to Get to Heaven According to Jesus

    How do you get to heaven? How do you get to God? How do you get mercy and forgiveness? How do you get whatever it is that our hearts are yearning for? Jesus knows. He’s clever about stuff like that.

  • Be born from above (John 3:3). The classic answer to the age-old question. And it’s still a good one. Be new. Be new from above. Change.
  • Be spiritually destitute (Matthew 5:3). Not nearly so classic, but it’s still what Jesus said. It’s neat that he doesn’t say the kingdom of heaven is for people who know they are poor in spirit, but for those who simply are. Only the spiritually impoverished are eligible for what Jesus has to offer. Only the broken. Only the screw-ups. Thank God for that.
  • Be pure in heart (Matthew 5:8). Is that all?
  • Be more righteous than religious people (Matthew 5:20). At first glance this seems tough. I mean, look at all the stuff religious people do to stay righteous! But, when we take a first and second glance, we see that religious does not mean righteous. Religious does not mean good. In fact, I’m tempted to say that religion and righteousness are mutually exclusive.
  • Do the will of God (Matthew 7:21). And then Jesus went and lived a life that shone with the will of God. Thanks for the good example! I’ll need a hand with trying it out, though.
  • Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, invite the homeless into your house (Matthew 25:31-40). This is one of those sayings where I want to say ‘Hold up, Jesus! That doesn’t sound like justification by faith! What do you mean by that?’ But I’m not really going to ask Jesus that. I think he’d rather me assume that he meant what he said. I know I like it when people assume I mean what I say. I figure I ought to extend the same courtesy to Jesus.
  • Obey the commandments, sell your stuff, follow Jesus (Matthew 19:16-21). Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. What am I supposed to do with this one? I want to say that you were joking with this guy! I want to say that you were trying to be really subtle and, in your subtlety, didn’t actually mean what you said. But how can I say that? I cannot assume that you would be so subtle as to mean something other that what you said, can I?
  • Go through Jesus (John 14:6). Jesus is the enabler. He’s not the obstacle in the way. He’s the unlocked door. He’s the moving staircase. He’s how you get there. Yay for that.
  • There’s more, y’know. Jesus talked about how to be spiritually successful a lot. I wonder if all the different way he talked about it are really just the one way looked at from different points of view. In my circles we focus on rebirth and belief. But what is rebirth if there is no re-lifestyle to prove it? Maybe feeding the poor is a part of rebirth. Maybe shedding the superfluous is the arm of faith.

    But do you know what he never said? He never said to invite him into your heart. He never suggested to pray a prayer and sign a card. No matter how you slice it or define it, the Jesus way is a lifestyle, not a conversion. It may look like a conversion. It may start with a conversion. But, following the language Jesus used, it’s something that starts and lasts and grows and moves until we die.

    Falling for Utility

    When you were born, the very forests of Lordaeron whispered the name, ‘Arthas.’

    In 1994 Blizzard Entertainment released the original Warcraft game. It’s sequel was the first game I ever purchased. The storyline was amazing, and it keeps growing to this day with World of Warcraft.

    One of the most interesting characters in the franchise is Prince Arthas. He was a paladin in his youth, and son to the king of Lordaeron. He devoted his life to fighting against the forces of darkness, be they orc, undead or demon. From the beginning his zeal and passion for his people was apparent. Nothing could stop him from serving his realm. He would have made a decent king.

    And then the Scourge came. The Scourge is the army of undead, ruled by the Lich King and bent of the destruction of the world. Arthas threw himself against them, willing to die to bring them down. But when the Scourge defiled the entire store of grain at the capital city of Stratholme, Arthas was forced to pause and think.

    The defilement was going to turn every single citizen of Stratholme into undead minions of the Scourge. There was no cure. And such a large city would have bolstered the Scourges ranks so much that victory may have been impossible. So what was Arthas to do?

    He decided that the only fitting course of action was to kill the citizens of Stratholme before they became undead. His Paladin teacher opposed him, but he was stubborn. So he took his knights and began the culling of Stratholme.

    Arthas’ intentions were good. And you could even argue for the utility of his choices. But the choice led to his fall. In culling Stratholme, he damaged his soul. And this became the first of many choices that led Arthas to not only join the Scourge, but to become the Lich King himself – enemy of all living.

    Utility did him in. He thought only about the outward result, never wondering about what his choices would turn him into. I wonder if many of my choices have the same stench of dependence on utility. I may not be killing doomed civilians, of course. But do I refuse to help people, thinking utility instead of thinking of what Jesus would have me do? Do I refuse to help, thinking that my help will make them weaker and pander to their weaknesses? If I do, I imagine I’m ignoring my own soul. There must be a better way than strict utility. Maybe Arthas could have found a third way. A way to save the world, without damning his soul.