Matt W Cook

writer.former fundamentalist.christianly fellow

Heisting the Maiden

I’ve always liked Morgan Freeman. So when I saw The Maiden Heist in Blockbuster, I grabbed it.

Three odd security guards each obsess over a different work of art in their gallery. They spend all their time examining, mimicking and re-creating the art. So when the museum announces that their exhibit is moving to Denmark, they don’t know how to handle it.

After deciding they can’t follow the exhibit to Denmark, they come to the only other logical choice: steal ’em.

Sounds pretty dumb, eh?

But, on reflection, isn’t that the smartest thing to do?

For these men the world revolved around this one thing. There was nothing else that mattered. Everything was sacrificed for this art. So how could they stand back and let someone take them away?

They were unreasonable, right? It wasn’t their painting. They didn’t own it. What right did they have to demand it? What right did they have to take it? None, I guess.

But they were driven by something. Something gripped them and turned them into unreasonable men. And we all know that the world is only ever changed by unreasonable men.

Myself, I can’t understand the devotion to their paintings, but I sometimes can taste a drive for something. An obsession for Something. And I begin to realize that my attitude for that Something needs to be the same as the men in the Maiden Heist. No letting go. I’ll hold on to what I have even if it means I have to break every convention out there. I’m going to steal the maiden.

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Revisiting the Wasteland

The nice thing about good poetry (or any other media) is that even if you don’t completely get it your first time, you can try again and get a little more every time you read it.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
and I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

We cannot peak about the roots and branches under the ground, because all we can see are the broken images and senses that the sun beats down on. Our view is hindered. We know only about the land of the living. And the land of the dead, beneath the red rock (a grave-maker?) is hidden and fearful. The shadow under this rock is different from the shadow at morning (youth) or from the shadow in the evening (old age).

How many poets have written about death? How many times have men and women of genius and insight been terrified by the handful of dust that awaits them?

But, I wonder, why do we look at the shadow?

Why do I look at the shadow striding behind me in the morning? Why do I gaze at it when it’s in front of me (though it is right before my eyes) in the evening? Why would I not, rather, look at the sun?

My shadow (the badge of mortality) is a small thing. It is not a part of me though it is related to me.

I cannot pretend to know exactly what happens under the red rock. I’ve never seen anything more than this heap of broken images, where the sun beats. But I find myself convinced that the sun somehow beats even under the red rock, though I’m not equipped to see it now. The shadow is a scary thing for me, true. But I don’t have that final fear Eliot is trying to express. I think that’s because I’m trying to look at the sun rather than my deepening shadow of morality.

It’s interesting, I think, that this poem was written years before Eliot converted to Christianity. I wonder what it would have said if he had written it after?

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Scarred

Scar is probably my favorite Disney villain.  Voiced by the amazing Jeremy Irons, he’s got everything a great villain needs.  He’s intelligent, motivated and ruthless.  He knows what he wants and he is willing to do anything to get it.  And, unlike many villains, he’s actually smart enough to pull it off.

But, like all villains, he has a fatal weakness: he doesn’t really want to be king.

How can that be?  That’s what he’s obessed with from the very first scene!  He talks and works for nothing else than becoming king.

But I really think that he doesn’t really want the job.  In fact, I think he doesn’t know what he wants.

To be king means to take responsibility for a kingdom.  It means having your citizens rely on you for their needs.  Scar definitely doesn’t want that; we can see it clearly by the way he runs the kingdom when he finally gets it.  It’s not that he’s unintelligent.  He was wiser than Mufasa, in a lot of ways, and I bet if he had put his mind to it he’d be able to run the kingdom admirably.  Shoot, I wouldn’t be surprised if he improved on Mufasa’s methods.  So why did the kingdom plunge into a depression when he took over?

Because he didn’t want to be king.  I think he wanted what most of us want: vague sense of power, authority and control.

And when he got it, it turned to ash in his mouth.

Scar at the end of the movie, clothed in all his glory, is no happier than Scar at the beginning.  He reached the top, took all the power and control he could, and it did nothing for him.

I wonder, sometimes, what I’m chasing.  Am I chasing a vague sense of control over my life like Scar did?  I hope not.  Because Scar not only lost that control in the end.  It turned on him and tore him apart.

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The Deadly Handful

There is shadow under this red rock
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

I don’t pretend to understand T.S. Eliot. His poem, The Wasteland, is mostly beyond me. But I think I’m starting to understand what he means in this little excerpt.

A handful of dust is all there is left at the end of most lives. At the end of the day, when your shadow no longer strides before you nor rises to meet you, there is nothing more than a handful of dust. Death. Futility. Nothing left.

But I hope to have more than a handful of dust on the day I’m forced to go under the shadow of the red rock. I will secure something of value. I’ll do it through creativity. I’ll do with through Jesus.

That handful of dust fills me with fear. But I don’t think it’ll be my handful of dust. It won’t be mine precisely because I fear it. My fear of it pushes me to achieve more.

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Riddles – #1

12
31
23
42
34
53
45
?

Which number comes next, and why?

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War

I’m going through Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Check it out. It’s pretty short and full of neat, witty sayings.

Have you ever noticed how much spiritual life corresponds with warfare? Check out this quote from Sun Tzu:

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

Sun Tzu goes on to criticize the general who fights without stratagem. The general who simply charges and wanders around with his army. The general who engages in prolonged warfare instead of seeking a quick victory.

How serious do we take our spiritual wars?

The Shadow is our enemy. Do we understand it? Do we know its methods and goals? Or do we just have a vague picture of sin and Satan in our heads? Do we take steps in fighting against the Shadow?

Do we try to understand ourselves? Do we seek out places in our lives and personalities where the Shadow has taken hold? Do we identify attributes within ourselves that the Shadow can exploit?

If we know neither ourselves or the Enemy, we will make no progress in our spiritual lives. If we at least know ourselves, though, we will begin to have victory over the Shadow. But if, by the grace of God, we come to understand both ourselves and the Shadow, we can be confident of consistent victory.

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Eliot’s Magi

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods
I should be glad of another death.

Thus wrote T.S. Eliot. He was taking the point of view of the Magi, after returning from the scene of the Nativity. The comparison of birth and death struck me.

Birth is painful and traumatic.
The same with death.
Birth is full of violence.
The same with death.
Birth is an event that comes against our will.
The same with death.
In birth we leave something familiar behind and go, for better of worse, into a deeper world.
The same with death.
Birth leaves us irrevocably changed.
The same with death.

Is death just another kind of birth? Sometimes.

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A Guest Post from Ruth

    “Sing to Him, sing praises to Him; tell of all His wondrous works!
Glory in His holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice!
Seek the Lord and His strength; seek His presence continually!
Remember the wondrous works that He has done, His miracles and the judgments He uttered.” Ps. 105:2-5

    What wonderful verses! They remind us of what we ought to do; but at times we find ourselves trapped into the worries and anxieties of this world and forget our focus. We don’t even realize how easily Satan uses these things to blind us so that we start doubting God and His wonderful promises! I have an exciting story to tell you all which I pray that God would use to encourage you, strengthen you and free you of whatever it is that is trapping you. So get ready!

    Even as a child, I remember having a love for God. My father was a great man of faith and trust in the Lord; he taught me a lot about my relationship with God. I remember the days when I was joyful and couldn’t stop talking about God and how He was working in my life. I went to a Bible college, KLBC, in Peterborough and God used those years to help me grow more. It was satisfying to be in His presence.
    But then something happened that totally changed it all. My dad died. It has been a bit over a year now. I found the year without my dad very depressing and difficult. My Peace was gone. I got rheumatoid arthritis right after his death. I started to realize that something is very wrong with my spiritual life. I had promised my dad that I’d have faith like his.  That no matter what happens I would continue to trust God BUT it all went backwards. Believe me it took me a whole year to realize what was wrong. I know it sounds like a long period of time to realize what is wrong but it happens sometimes. Sometimes we get so relaxed with our spiritual life and we don’t even realize how much Satan is taking advantage of it.
    Then about 2-3 weeks ago we were having a prayer meeting at a friend’s house. They prayed for me and God used that time to show me how my arthritis and not letting go of my dad are the things that are stopping me from growing. Because I’d get depressed seeing how my body is not working properly and I guess I never wanted my dad to die. You know what I mean? God answered prayers and freed me from my pain and depression. I felt so light. I never thought that I could go so crazy in that depth and once I did, I never thought I could ever get out of it and get back to my first love for God! But praise God He heard and freed me from these burdens on my back that were so heavy to bear. He took them and reminded me that He is a good shepherd who will nurture me and take care of me. It was wonderful! I came home and prayed with my wonderful husband and this is the picture that came to me head: A huge building. And you know how if someone throws himself off that roof, how fast he falls down. It was the other way around. As if Matt and I, as we jumped off the building, were weights and falling crazy speed – but upwards!! It was great!
    The next morning as I was praying this is the picture God gave: Pilgrim who has a huge and heavy burden on his shoulders but as soon as he gets to the Cross, it rolls off. I realized that this time I was that Pilgrim who seeing Christ is free of the things that were on my back for a year. I am rejoicing as I type this because I get to tell many people about the wondrous things God is doing in my life! How exciting!!
   The verses above are a good reminder to me: I am to praise Him, His works. Rejoice. Seek Him and remember His works NOT worry about or complain about the problems I have. This is not what I ought to do. Yes, my arthritis is quite bad this week I am having a hard time to walk but I could be worse, yes? I will continue to see HIM. This time Satan can’t have a chance to win. The victory is mine in and through Jesus!! YES!
   Just remember that there is no burden or sin HE can’t take away. He has the power over all and everything. Trust that He is able to do that which we can’t even imagine. Rejoice that HE has freed us all! Keep reminding yourselves. Keep exercising your gifts. Tell everyone what God is doing in your life. You never know who you may encourage.

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A Thought on Art

To my mind [art and literature] are only healthy when they are either (a) Definitely the handmaids of religious, or at least moral, truth – or (b) Admittedly aiming at nothing but innocent recreation or entertainment. Dante’s alright, and Pickwick is alright. But the great serious irreligious are – art for art’s sake – is all balderdash; and, incidentally, never exists when art is really flourishing. … ‘[Art] ceases to be a devil when it ceases to be a god’.
– C.S. Lewis in a letter to a friend

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One Among Many

I’m reading through The Eye of the World with my wife. It’s a lot of fun curling up on the couch, turning all the screens and speakers off and reading out loud together.

The series is all about the rise of the prophesied Dragon Reborn who is destined to fight against the dark one and save the people of the world. It’s wild. I’ve talked about it before.

It starts off in a tiny village. Everyone has heard the prophecies of the Dragon. In fact, there have been many false Dragons rising up and proclaiming themselves. Many more than usual. In a time when there are false Dragons in almost every country, who would take another claimant seriously? But it is in this setting that the real Dragon is actually reborn.

Someone would be tempted to say, “Hey, there are false Dragons all over the place. Why should I think that this guy is the real one?”

That sounds like what people say today when they talk about faith. “There are so many religions today, how can I know which one is right? Maybe none are!”

But truth, like the Dragon, comes with signs. In the book, the Dragon has a set of prophecies that prove him. Only the true Dragon can touch the mystic sword Callandor. Only the Dragon can unite the warring Aiel clans. Only the Dragon’s blood will free mankind from the Shadow. In the midst of countless false Dragons, the true Dragon will stand out. He must stand out.

Truth has marks as well. And in a world filled with false Truths, it will stand out.

What are the marks of spiritual Truth? Can you recognize them?
– Truth is true all the time.
– Truth changes a person.
– Truth agrees with other truths.
– Truth has complex depth.
– Truth has peaceful simplicity.

What are other marks of Truth?

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