Matt W Cook

Don’t worry…be happy!

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life…
Matthew 6:25

So here’s the deal. Ruth’s visa application is somewhere between Karachi and Islamabad, there is no way I can know if it arrived safely until the middle of next week. Also, in order to get a good deal on plane tickets I paid for our flight last week, though I cannot take possession of the tickets until Ruth’s passport with its visa returns. Imagine what would happen if our ‘reliable’ Pakistani courier service lost the application with her passport. She’d need a new passport, and that takes a while to get, we’d miss our flight. On top of it all when I try to talk to our dear friends at the High Commission they, more often than not, decide to not pick up the phone. The possibility of stress is pretty high these days.

Then I read the Sermon on the Mount. Don’t worry. Don’t worry about your life or your food or your clothes. There’s more to life than all that! The others worry about that stuff, not you! You’re different, you’re set apart, and you’re part of a holy nation whose ruler is God. So don’t worry.
But what if Ruth doesn’t get her visa?
Don’t worry about it.
But what if we’re stuck in Pakistan?
I’m in charge of the limitless cosmos. If you’re stuck here, I put you here.
But what do we do if we have to stay?
Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.
But what if…
The situation doesn’t matter. I am in control. Nothing escapes my power or my grasp or my sight. Whatever happens to you is part of the wonderful story I’m writing with your life. Seek me first; I’ll take care of the rest.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Five Iron Frenzy these days. I miss the old days when I was a ska kid. One of my favorite songs is called The Greatest Story Ever Told. It reminds me why I don’t need to worry. I’m part of a wonderful story. The greatest story. Jesus is making a wonderful story and I’m in it. Everything will work out for my good. So everything may screw up and blow up in my face, no matter, the end will be better because of it. My only job right now is to seek and pray and wait on God. He’ll take care of the rest. The author of my hope is writing the greatest story ever told.

World Without an End

For all the deepest thoughts complied,
Philosophy to laws of physics,
No-one’s ever heard or seen
A more beautiful thing than this love that saved us.

In the soundless awe and wonder
Words fall short to hope again.
How beautiful, how vast your love is!
New forever, world without an end.

The very spark that burns the stars
Drew near to me today.
The God of everything that is
Whispered in my ear that this love is boundless.

In the soundless awe and wonder
Words fall short to hope again.
How beautiful how vast your love is!
New forever, world without an end.

Cook out

PS – Since this blog was first posted the visa application has been returned to us because I needed an extra form that the Consulate in Karachi didn’t give me. I sent the whole deal back to Islamabad two days ago. Looks like we’re cutting it a little close here, eh?

Rain, rain on my face…
We were in Karachi for a little while this past week. We decided to head back to Sanghar a day earlier than expected. It was a very interesting trip home.

I booked our seats for the 3:30 bus. At 3:15 Ruth and I were sitting patiently at the grungy bus-stop waiting for our bus. Oddly enough, it was late. At about 3:50 it finally arrived. Whatever frustrations we may have been feeling were banished as soon as we boarded the bus. I have never seen a Pakistani coach so lovely! Chilling A/C, tons of leg-room, and wonderfully comfortable seats with cup-holders made this look like the most wonderful ride we’d ever had. We settled down for a nice ride home.

The bus traveled much slower than usual. Usually these coach drivers rule the road and drive any obstacles into the ditch, but this guy was courteous and rather slow. While I went through the entire trip without fearing for my life once, I wished it went a bit faster. Eventually we left the National Highway and got onto the rural roads that would eventually lead us home. This is where the interesting things began to happen. We suddenly pulled off the road into a gas station and met up with another coach. Before I knew what was happening all the men were scrambling to get off the bus. For some reason we were switching buses. So off the bus I went, trying hard to keep up with the crowd and not lose my seat. I almost lost all of my luggage but eventually Ruth and I were settled nicely in a less-comfortable but much faster bus. Wonderful, eh?

Maybe not. About five minutes into the ride I noticed something that I had not seen for almost a year. There were flashes of light in the sky and droplets of water striking the windows. Rain? In Pakistan it never rains, but it pours! Within ten minutes of the rain starting we found ourselves in the middle of what I might call a monsoon. Even though I don’t really know what a monsoon is, I figure it can’t be much worse than that rain storm. The windows were leaking water all over us and we couldn’t see two feet out the windows. Funny thing is that our dear, semi-crazy driver never seemed to slow down. So on we went, up and down bumpy roads in the middle of a flooding nowhere, hoping and praying that we would reach Sanghar without drowning. At about 10:00 (two hours past the original ETA) we arrived in the lake that used to be Sanghar. I hopped off the bus to grab our luggage. As I stepped onto the street I silently cursed the driver for parking right beside a foot-deep puddle. I stopped cursing him when I walked away from the bus into the rest of town which was a two-foot puddle. I greatly regretted wearing my nice leather sandals that day.

Eventually we found a rickshaw that was willing to take us home. We were given a neat surprise when we got there. First, it was incredibly difficult to walk, the entire courtyard having been turned into a muddy swamp. Secondly I noticed that a rather large tree had fallen down. As I walked inside the house I saw the strangest sight of the day. The entire western wall of the compound had collapsed, leaving the family exposed to the outside of the city. As I type this now the men of the family are collecting thorny trees and branches to put up in place of the brick. Here’s a picture of the wall:

And here are a few other shots you haven’t seen:

Leader of the pack. Vroom, vroom.

Our cute little family at the Qaid-e-Azam tomb. Nice tourist destination.

Joe, cuter than ever.

Hanging at the Arabian sea.

He’s gonna be a soccer player. He iiiiis!

Swinging like a champ.

Yeah, you teach that goat a lesson!

I hope you enjoy those pics. Pray for us these days, some big things are near in the future. I could use some of that Spiritual Wisdom stuff.

Cook out.

You are what you…are

They encircle me with words of hate,
and attack me without cause.
In return for me love they accuse me,
but I give myself to prayer.
Ps. 109:3-4

If you have your Bible with you this morning please turn to Psalm 109. Do you have a footnote at verse four? I do. It says that the original Hebrew reads but I am prayer. I am prayer. He doesn’t say “I pray lots” or “I pray without ceasing” or “I devote myself to prayer”. “I am prayer.

It makes me think of a man that you walk up to and ask “Excuse me sir, do you pray?” He answers, “Do I pray? My friend I am prayer. I am the incarnation of prayer. The defining characteristic of my life is prayer, it’s what I’m all about. Take prayer away from me and I am a different person. I am prayer.” I think that is what David basically means. You wonder what was the most important thing in David’s life. What was the sine qua non of his existence? Prayer.

It’s like one of those secret agents who goes around saying, “Danger? Danger is my middle name, baby.” Prayer? Prayer is my middle name, baby.

When I read that this morning I was very groggy and certainly didn’t feel like my middle name was prayer. I think my middle name was slug at that time. I’ve often wondered how to make my body and spirit work together to get me into a position where I desire the things that will give me life. I’ve got a few clues, but I still haven’t figured it all out yet.

These days I think consistency is a key (there are a whole lot of keys to this lock). When I’m consistent for a few days everything seems to flow nicely. Until that first snag at which it all falls apart. You cannot be prayer without praying. To be prayer you need to be all about prayer. It needs to be that one thing that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Prayer, to you, must be like a firstborn son, a favorite duty, a spouse. When you consistently look at prayer like this, maybe it will help.

So pray for me and I’ll pray for you. One day we may say with David, “I am prayer.”

PS – More pictures!

Jenn and Jordan.

Jenn and Jordan with our dear friend Ambo. Ask them what his name means.

Malaria + 50 degree weather + Funny diet + Two great friends visiting = The above picture.

Joe chillin’ at the tomb of the founder of Pakistan. Chill well, young man.

More later!

Goodness Gracious

For you so loved the unlovable
That you gave the ineffable
That whoso believes the unbelievable
Will gain the unattainable

Video games are pretty cheap here. When I say pretty cheap I mean that you could buy Doom 3 for fifty cents. Which is the same price that you’d pay for the entire series of Age of Empires or Jedi Knight or any other game you could think of. Or movie for that matter, they also cost fifty cents. You don’t pay for the time and mind of the creators here; you just pay for the plastic the media is put on. Yesterday my brother-in-law, John bought a CD that has something like 15 separate games on it, including a few that I loved back before Bible College. I always like the older games the best. So I was helping him install them on his computer because half the time the fifty-cent games don’t work. Which is understandable, being fifty cents and all.

So I finished installing the classic Jedi Knight: Mysteries of the Sith. To my surprise it worked perfectly, though without the cut scene videos. I figured that I should test it for him too. Just to make sure there wasn’t any nasty bugs or anything. I dove into the game. John and Nadeem were in awe at my incredible lightsaber skills as I fought off the invading army of stormtroopers. I played a little longer than I had expected because the next time I turned around John and Nadeem were gone, maybe in bed.

I missed something that night. Ruth and I had made a habit of meeting together every evening for prayer and study. I was busy defending the New Republic from the remains of the Galactic Empire. I was thinking morning about why. You and I both know that it’s very easy to do those little pleasing things that make us happy now as opposed to those difficult things that make us very happy forever. First I tried to rationally figure it out. What are the benefits of taking on the forces of darkness as Jedi Knight Kyle Katarn??

• Fun now
• Sometimes a feeling of accomplishment if I win

That’s about it.

What are the benefits of leading myself and my wife to Christ?

• Sanctifies me
• Sanctifies my wife
• Gives me access to omnipotence
• Prepares me for eternity
• Draws me closer to my wife
• Sets my mind on things above

And I’m sure you and I could go on for a while because we know full well the benefits of fellowship with God. We know what it’s like because we have been at the throne of God before. We’ve tasted it and we know that there is nothing better.

So according to the logic of it all we should through everything away and run after God. The trick is that we are not logical creatures. But neither are we really emotional. Even emotionally speaking we should be running after God. The problem is not that we rely on our emotions too much. Our emotions tell us that true joy is found in Christ because we can remember how He has affected our emotions in the past. I don’t think the human problem is over-emotionalism.

We aren’t overly-rational or overly-emotional. We are overly-sinful. Our sin totally screws up our reason and emotions. Untainted, our reason and emotions should make us beautiful creatures, but when perverted we become dangerous, unstable, miserable folks. Our sin destroys every good thing that was supposed to dwell in us. The reason that I choose Kyle Katarn over Jesus is not rational or emotional, it’s just sinful. There is the problem. If we try to point at anything else as our problem we make a fake solution that won’t help us out one little bit.

I’m very good at pointing out problems, but I’m not too good at working a solution. Although I’ve heard that recognizing the problem is half the solution.

PS
Photos for your enjoyment:

Rani, John, Ruth, Joe, Sindhu and Peter on Easter.

Mommy, nephew and son.

Mommy and Joe, on the roof.

Again, our dear mommy and son.

More are coming. Including the much-awaited shots of Jenn and Jordan’s trip to the land of Pak.

Toodles.

Expectations

It was Joseph’s first birthday just a week or so ago. He’s running around a lot now, he rarely crawls unless he’s at an especially difficult slope. His blabbering is being a lot more focused, almost coherent. He even knows how to work a cell phone. Last night we were all hanging out on a bed outside and Paul gave his cell phone to Joe to play with it. Joe loves those things. He puts them up to his ear as is he’s on a call and starts talking to it. He’s a smart kid, for his age.

But do you know what he did when he was first born? Nothing. At least, as close to nothing that a living person can do. He cried, ate, slept and pooped. That was it. He didn’t have any complex desires. He had no concept of communication or relationship. We loved him but he couldn’t have cared less about us, really. Let’s face it, when a person is first born their brain really is not working yet. In our prenatal course the teacher told us that more than half of physical brain development occurs outside of the womb! So it would have been unreasonable for me to expect love, communication, empathy or anything interaction from Joseph during his first few weeks and even months of life. He just sat there. And sucked and pooped.

I like how Jesus compares conversion to a birth. It makes it seem really real.

A lot of things are similar between a natural newborn and a spiritual one. When a spiritual baby is newly born there is a period of disorientation. It’s very hard to know what to do or how to fulfill the new desires that you cannot even express properly. There are only a few things that a new spiritual baby needs to do in order to grow. Cry and suck. Cry and suck. A new believer may not know much (even if he had degrees upon degrees in the most spiritual theological churches and school) but all he really needs to know at the beginning is cry and suck. Cry when the pain of sin hits you. Cry when you have pain in your life. Cry when you want refreshment from God. Cry when you don’t know what’s going on, but you just feel like you need to cry. Earthly parents would get frustrated by all this crying, but God knows that it proves that you value Him. And suck. Suck out the pure milk of the word. You know what’s neat? Whenever Joe cries milk satisfies him. Even when he’s not crying for hunger. When he falls and hurts himself, when he can’t have a toy he wants, when he wants to play with Dad who is away. Milk always satisfies him, even when he doesn’t know it.

I think that if we are young in the faith we should not be discouraged when we see others progressing much further and faster than us. I am blessed in knowing many godly people, but sometimes watching their lives makes me sad. They possess a discipline and desire that is foreign to me. But stop and think for a second. They’ve been on this road for ten, twenty, or thirty years now! Of course they’re further along. I can’t expect Joseph to climb a tree today. Joe does what a one-year-old should do, and for that I am very happy. I do not expect him to do the work of a five-year-old. Yet.

There is a danger, though. When Joseph is fifteen will I be especially pleased with him if he can walk across the room without falling or get himself in or out of the swimming tub by himself? Certainly not. Those things that are great feats today will be mundane things by then. I am pleased with what he does today, but I am far from satisfied.

In many ways God is easy to please, but very hard to satisfy.

If Joseph is still struggling to communicate when he is fifteen I will be neither pleased nor satisfied with his progress. God is very pleased when a new soul is born into His family. He is pleased when that soul begins to set aside five minutes every other day to a prayer or a reading. He is pleased when that individual tries to get something out of fellowship at a church once in a while. But He’s not satisfied. God wants us to grow up into spiritual men and women who will lay down out lives and energy for Him. Who love to run to Him and raise His families and fight for His name. He wants us to grow pure, holy desires that breathe after Him, His Son and His Word. He’s pleased when we start, but He’s not satisfied until we’re finished.

To me this is an encouragement and a rebuke. Here we can see a bit of a danger in expecting too little from ourselves, and too much. It’s good to stop and take stock of where we are, spiritually. Are we puking newborns? Stumbling toddlers? Confused Teens? Where are we?

Who would have guessed?

I sit here in Karachi this morning. Everyone in the house is still asleep. The house seems very empty and quiet. I’m thinking about the past and what events have led me to where I am now. It’s hard to believe where I’ve ended up. Looking back, the odds seem to have been against me. But here I am, not only am I in a developing, Islamic country with a Pakistani wife and half-Pakistani kid, but I’m loving it. I can’t wait to get home, but I love this place too.

I have no regrets. I mean none, absolutely none. I look back on my life and I realize that if I could change anything about the past, I wouldn’t. Even the many parts where I screwed up. This system is too complicated. One thing affects another, which affects another. Providence is so beautiful and complicated. Think of the staggering intellect of God who is able to work all things together for His purpose and for my good. I could never change anything, I like my life, I like how the hard times have make me stronger, how the happy times have given me joy, how the dangerous times have given me character, how the trying times have given me patience, how the difficult times have given me wisdom.

All things work together. How lovely.

So my dear Jordan and Jenn leave us today. Their flight takes off in 13 hours. Pakistan’s loss. What a wonderful encouragement they have been, especially these last few days when it was just us and them here in Karachi.

Talk to ya’ll later,
Matthew.

PS – Andy Mack invaded my dreams last night. You and me were hanging out in a Dunkin’ Donuts here in Karachi. The interpretation: Get your arse over here and have a coffee!

Is it true? Is it possible?

Ahh, Karachi. City of Internet. I’m here hanging in Karachi on a secret mission. Two dear friends of our are visiting us and I’m a little giddy about it. They land at 4:30am tomorrow morning. I bet they’re in the air right now! You know what the coolest part is? Ruth has no idea! That’s right, she thinks I’m here picking up a package or something. I’m a sly little dog, ain’t I?

So, the Net has been down for many months, and many meaningful blog ideas have come and gone through my head. As I sit here, I can think of none. But fear not, my dear friends are bringing me a new modem. So soon I’ll be back on the horse, riding into the frontier of blogging.

See you then!

I’m a gardener, but I’m a very lazy blogger.

I have 20 potted plants in my house. They are beautiful tropical things that cost less that a buck each. Some of them are crazy exotic plants that you really can’t find in Canada, and some are very familiar and you can get them at your local greenhouse. I don’t think I know the proper name of a single one, but I take pretty good care of them and I give them names myself.

I think God is a bit like a gardener. You know, all my plants are different, but they have some things in common. When a new plant first arrives in my house it does great for about a week. No problems, no bugs, lots of flowers, lovely smell. It’s like when they first sign up they’re excited and ready to fulfill their role in my house. After that, some plants experience a…disheartening.

Take my one plant, Morning Glory. I call it that because Rani says that’s what it is. I don’t know any better so the name sticks. He’s one of my first plants. He’s never had a problem with bugs or too much sun or water or anything like that. But I noticed about a month ago that he stopped producing flowers. They were such beautiful flowers too, violet and white. I started to look into why it stopped. I discovered that Morning Glory is a climbing plant. But my Morning Glory had never climbed before. So I got some rope, tied one end to the plant and tacked another end on the wall and watched. Sure enough, after about a week Morning Glory was slowly, cautiously climbing. Two weeks ago the beautiful flowers appeared. All is good again with him. The moral: If you are not doing what you are made to do, your fruit will falter. Morning Glory looked sick and cranky until he started to climb; now he’s having a great time. Find out what your role is and do it.

I have a very neat plant that doesn’t have a name. It’s like two little palm trees, though thinner, with the oddest dark red flowers you’ve ever seen. They look like little cups hanging from the branches. It used to be the best in the house. Recently, this dear plant was overrun with bugs. Little critters that spun webs of nastiness around the branches, choking the life out of the flowers, leaves and branches. At first I tried to be gentle, picking off the leaves that were infected, but the bug spread. I took off whole branches at a time, but they still spread. Two days ago I took desperate measures. I chopped off every branch, removing every trace of the bugs. If I didn’t, the plant would have died. I think the plant will live now. The moral: Sometimes when it looks like God is killing us he’s really saving our lives.

Another plant spent too much time away from me. He used to have lovely purple flowers that gave off the most beautiful smell of the whole garden. Then he was left on the roof too long. In the scorching sun with no water all the leaves and flowers crumbled and died. I found him many days later. He looked dead. I took him out of the sun. I pruned off the parts that could not be salvaged and gentling watered him and nursed him. Slowly new leaves formed, eventually he grew tall again and a flower even came up. This was months ago, and he still bears nasty scars from his experience, but I know he’ll pull through because I’m taking care of him. The moral: Don’t drift away from him. His steadfast love endures forever, He won’t let one of His own fall utterly.

Different things work with different plants. Some plants need a ton of sun, some plants need almost none. Thankfully I know what each plant needs. Even though I may hurt them from time to time (pruning and purging), I will never, ever harm them. I want what’s best for my plants and I’ll do anything to them in order to get it, even if it means bringing them down low almost to the point of death. They are utterly dependant on me. Without me watering them they would die very quickly. The same is with God, He holds our breath and we’d die much faster than my plants.

Knowing Jesus

Knowing you, Jesus, knowing you
There is no greater thing
You’re my all, you’re the best
You’re my joy, my righteousness
And I love you, Lord.

Why is knowing Jesus the best? Why is this the highest goal of Christianity? What made Paul say that he counted everything crap compared to knowing Him? What makes Jesus so attractive?

It’s pretty much impossible to love Jesus, did you know that? Not because there is anything lacking in Him, but because there is a lot lacking in us. Think about a lovely piece of art, be it a painting, sculpture, poem, film, novel, whatever. The average person who knows next to nothing about the art of painting would look at a canvas and not be able to appreciate it. He may like it because it looks pretty, but he cannot fully understand it for what it is. The same is true with a person who never writes, he may be entertained by a book, but the real goodness of it, the artistic level, is lost to him. I think it’s the same with Jesus. We may read about him and affirm that he is was a lovely man and did lovely things. We may imagine that we would like him if we knew him, but there can naturally be no love for him because we are naturally anti-spiritual. We like religion, to be sure, and we often enjoy morality, but the true, underlying glory and beauty of Christ is completely lost to us, unless some understanding of holiness and spirituality is somehow infused into us. You can only see the real quality of a thing if you are somehow acquainted with the subject of its goodness. The best art critic is an artist. The best novel reviewer is a writer. The better the reviewer is at writing, the more accurately he will judge the written work. If Mark Twain says a book is crap, it’s crap. If he says a book is a masterpiece, we will be reading it for centuries.

So with Christ the only way we can ever love him is if we have his spirit put into us. Then we can see why he is so wonderful, why the saints of old loved him so much. The more his life is lived in and out of us the more we will be able to accurately judge how good he really is. Only with Christ we will never conclude that he is deficient, unless we really don’t know him at all. The more we see and appreciate his infinite perfections the more we will fall in love with him.

So why does God command us to seek him? The same reason our teachers in high school begged us to read those old classics that we hated. Because if we ever actually appreciated them and understood them, we would fall in love with them and read them more and more. In the same way, if I set myself to seek God and to try to understand these beautiful perfections he has, I will love him more and more. The great part is, those who love God get him. I may love a certain novel, but if the bookstore doesn’t have it I’m out of luck. The promise of God is that all who love him, get him

Stuff you don’t see everyday

October ninth was the Shi’a holiday of Muharram. It is a very special time for Shi’as all over the world. The main part of their parade took place outside my house. Here are some photos I took outside my bedroom window and just by my front door.

Those men are holding metal whips with which they beat themselves as the parade travels through the town. If you were to ask someone in Pakistan why they do this, they would give you one of two explanations. According to the Shi’as themselves, here is the story.

After Mohammad died he left no obvious successor. The Muslim community wanted to pick a Caliph to lead them religiously and politically. Most Muslims agreed on a man named Abu Bakr, who was Mohammad’s best friend. A smaller group of people thought that a man named Husayn Ali should be the first Caliph. Ali was the nephew of Mohammad and his only male relative. Ali’s supporters were called the Shi’a of Ali. Followers of Ali. Anyway, Abu Bakr died after a couple years, then another man took over whose name I can’t remember right now. Ten years later he died and was replaced by a man name Usman. Twelve years later Usman was murdered and Ali became the Caliph. The Shi’as were obviously pleased. Unfortunately Ali was killed shortly thereafter. The Shi’as went into deep mourning and split from the mainstream Muslim community. They regard this day as a very solemn time. They mourn his death all day and wound themselves out of grief.

Now, the trick comes when you ask a non-Shi’a about why the Shi’as hurt themselves on this day. The mainstream Muslims are called Sunni. They will tell you that it was the Shi’as who killed Ali all those years ago and now they are cursed people. They wound themselves because Allah will never forgive them, but maybe they can increase their chances through this rite. Different, eh? On a side note, I should mention that it’s rarely a good idea to ask about a group’s theology or practices from a rival group. It’s like asking a Brethren about what the Catholics believe. You’ll likely not get an objective answer.

So let’s think for a moment about the second explanation. I don’t buy it, just because the Shi’as and Wikipedia say different, but it makes me think. I wonder if they see something meritorious in all this. I wonder if they think injuring the physical body will make things better in the life to come. I was reading something this morning with Ruth that I wanted to share:

But someone will ask, “How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?” You foolish person! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or some other grain. But God gives it a body as he had chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body.
1 Cor. 15:35-38

I caught something in this that I’d always missed before. You are the seed. When you die you are sown into the ground. After that, something very different comes up. I have a lovely plant growing on my roof. It has long branches, large green leaves and beautiful red flowers. At one time this plant was a simple, brown little seed. Something you wouldn’t even notice if you saw it lying on the ground. Today it is the first thing you see when you get on the roof. You are a seed, your death will remove your corruptible self and you will put on incorruptibility. What will the resurrection body be like? Different. Don’t try to figure it out, just compare a bulb to a tulip and you’ll get an idea. Except this tulip doesn’t sleep in winter.

How are Muharram and the new body related? I see people corrupting their bodies in the hopes of increasing their chances for future incorruptibility. But this is using physical weapons in a spiritual war. This is using paper and wood to build the USS Enterprise. Impossible. For incorruptibility we must kill the sin that is in us. We can’t. Jesus can. We needn’t whip ourselves, he was already whipped.

Praise God. That’s all.