The Curse of September 30th.

September 30th is a day which will live in infamy for the Matson clan. On this day we are forbidden from bike riding. One year apart on that day both Kathy and Melody had biking accidents. One involved failed brakes (I have to contend - brakes she wasn't used to) and a cement block wall. The other involved a bike race with a borrowed, modified bike and a rather hard, sidewalk-type surface. One was left with two front chipped teeth and the other ... well .... one of her front teeth is no longer with us. OUCH!

Happy Birthday!!

Happy 4th Birthday Hannah! I love you!!,
Uncle Deron

Under Construction

Thanks for checking in. Apologies. My intent was to blog on each days happenings here from Mexico City. So much has been going on that it hasn't happened that way - good stuff. In the meantime I had hoped to let some pictures speak a thousand words on my flickr account but I'm fighting with a "low" wi-fi connection. I'll try to catch up but it may not happen 'til I return to S.D.

Peace.

D

Ciudad de los Palacios

Well it's been 25 years since the last time I was in Mexico City. That time I was representing the Nazarene youth of Wisconsin attending World Youth Congress in Oaxtapec. The sights, smells, & sounds have brought back a flood of memories. I'm on vacation here visiting my sister, Kathy. It's good to see where she calls home and the work she's involved in. She's been here in this capacity since 2003 so in a land where "mi casa es tu casa", I don't have a good excuse for not coming sooner (I know... double negative but when in Mexico....).

The flights went well and the jaunt through customs went off without a hitch. The layover in Dallas was just long enough to see a couple scoring drives by the Chargers on Monday Night Football (24-14 at that point). The customs line in Benito Juárez International Airport was short. The airport was nice but I have no pix to show. I learned the hard way in Brazil once that they frown on picture taking in Customs. After walking down the stairway, off a plane and onto the tarmac I promptly turned around to snap a picture of friends deplaning. People rushed at me from all angles and I feared for my life for a second - looked like they were going to tackle me and I didn't know why? Still have the picture :) .

The flights gave me a chance to catch up on sleep, reflect on what I forgot for the trip and work on some unfinished business. The main flight attendant on the second flight was a hoot. He announced the pilots as if he were announcing a wrestling match with Nacho Libre. First-class passengers got fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I regretted for a bit, my decision not to cash in some frequent flyer miles and upgrade. That would have been an expensive cookie though. When you're a landlubber and used to just buying what you want, when you want, to satisfy your cravings & that smell is filling the air, it's hard not to rush that cart at 30,000 miles up. A cooler head prevailed.

So I forgot a pair of shoes I wanted to bring. Stores just don't carry shoes here over size 10. Hard to believe, but I guess I could search day and night and not find a man here wearing anything over a size 10. It's like trying to find a size XXL shirt in Brazil. Can't do it. And don't forget your swimsuit when going to Brasil. If you're shopping for one you're going to be looking at speedos. I'll leave you with that thought.

Scott & Sarah

We had a sending service today for Scott & Sarah Borger. Two weeks ago we sent Sam Nichols and Vanessa Contopulos. They will be greatly missed. Scott's background in economics might tell him "money makes the world go around". My physics teacher would tell us "financial capital causes the earth to rotate on its axis in centripetal fashion". It's people like this that push the church and help it to go.


Adeui mon amis! I will miss my fellow ONU alums and Chicago-style pizza affecianados. Sarah has taken a job in Baltimore with World Relief.

Prayer Request

Please say a prayer for P---. Please pray that he can see beyond his past & present pain and realize the hope that God can give him for his future. I have known him for 7 years. In that time, I've visited him in every type of living situation from the streets, ICU, hospitals, a hotel, "crisis house", independent living, sober living, board & care, and lock-down psych facilities (County & State). I've traveled all around the county for visits and even to San Bernardino.

He's hit bottom again. I remember the first time I saw him in a drunken state. I let it happen on my watch. I agreed to take him out of a facility on a pass to attend church. I had to take him back to the facility in that state. It felt like someone balled up their fist and hit me as hard as they could in the gut. I've seen the cycle occur now over and over again. His request today for $3 was categorically denied because I had no doubts where the money would be spent.

He's made numerous attempts to end his life. He bears the emotional and physical scars of those attempts. They are evident on what he calls his "earth-suit". He hopes to shed it one day in exchange for a heavenly one. A few months ago I saw something on his neck. I thought it was just dirty. I said "hey you've got something on your neck, why don't you wash it off?" "It won't come off", he said. "How about using some rubbing alcohol?" "No that won't work, it's a tattoo." I took another look. It was a dotted line from one side of his neck to the other. Below the line it read, "CUT HERE".

Thanks Roy for taking him to the hospital for me today.

David C. & I visited Bill in the nursing home & changed a seat belt on his wheelchair. We took the occasion to go across the street & see David's friends at Badlands Motorcycles - a flashback to his former lifestyle. He's educating me on motorcycles & the shopkeepers educated me by teaching me a few new choice words.

D-E-R-O-N

Today, several of us assisted the Hunt family with packing, cleaning and exterminating. The move had Bill's dad and a friend pulling away a trailer with an estimated 90% of their belongings & leaving friends with more questions than answers.

I acquired 3 more baseball cards today of my namesake, Deron Johnson. Depending on which dictionary you consult, I'm his namesake or vice versa. Technically, he might be my eponym because I don't think I was named after him for who he was & what he did ?? but because my parents liked the spelling of his name. My Dad took me to meet him once when he was coaching with the Angels & they were playing the Brewers.

I like my name. Always have - good thing. It has caused some difficulty though. I've heard all the pronunciations & been called them all - D'ron (Deron Cherry - KC Chiefs), Dee-Ron (Ryan gets away with that one routinely). There are probably as many ways to spell Darren as there are letters in the alphabet. I've even seen it with an 'h'. At Starbucks if they ask for my name & for the spelling I tell 'em they can just spell it however they like because even if I spell it the next person that reads it is probably just going to slaughter it anyway. How hard can it be? :) Deron rhymes with heron - the bird. Roll call in class at the beginning of the school year was always fun too. For those that get it right the first time, it's like we have an instant connection - want to give them a high-five.

I will sometimes avoid the trouble when making reservations at a restaurant by using my middle name. It seldom gets used for anything and is hard to mess up. Interesting side note: I learned while working in the Records Office - Japanese & Swedish students do not typically have or use middle names. I think I'm going to mess with my kid's name by putting a punctuation mark in the middle of it. That will also give me an automatic excuse to raise my voice when addressing him. "Joh!nny."

The Church Without Walls

I came across this cool, hollowed-out church last summer on the way to New Mexico. It's a convertible model. I suppose some would say it's good for nothing but it stands as a testament to some good times and God's work with His people.


When we were looking for a church building I came across two adjacent storefronts in North Park I thought would fit the bill. They were boarded up. Upon further investigation, looking through a crack in the plywood, I saw that they were sans roofs and the walls were propped up with long metal reinforcement poles. They are just now getting re-habbed and one of our Associate Pastors, Enrique V. & his son Aldo, are on the team of workers working on them.

Upon retirement, one of the pastors I worked with in DC, Sam Smith, said he was going to start a new church called "The Church Without Walls". He was free to go out and minister wherever & whenever. I get a glimpse of this when I go to a Padres game and end up spending most of the game counseling with the person beside me and see very little baseball - and that's fine.

Try wearing a clerical collar downtown on the way to a court hearing and see and hear the reactions you get - good and bad. Angst for the clergy comes out and some keep you at arm's length. Pastor John was even sucker punched while wearing a collar when our Tuesday meal for the homeless was at its former location on the dirt parking lot. A bystander exclaimed, "hey, you don't hit God!" Others feel it's an open invitation to talk, confess a deep, dark sin or share a prayer request.

John Wesley's parish was the world. In today's parlance, or that of the Doobie Brothers, he was "takin' it to the streets". His work took him out to the coal mines where others didn't dare to go. He was able to meet with those that may have not otherwise darkened the doors of the church.

Last evening I was able to sup with a group of Student Ministry Leaders at PLNU & more particularly met with all those involved in outreach to the Homeless. I am encouraged by their willingness and obedience. They are a part of The Church Without Walls. There's something to be said for sacred space - that which has been set apart for God's work. There's also something to be said about space God makes sacred because we are willing to follow Him there. My desire also is that my heart will continue to be molded into sacred space. Wherever & whenever I go out from the walls of the church I want to be a minister in The Church Without Walls.

"But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." (1 Pet. 3:15)

Dark Night of the Soul

I'm sorry for the hiatal silence but I just haven't felt like writing lately. I've been given over more to a contemplative mood and needed the time off to do a lot of soul searching.

When you've journeyed with someone for a significant period of time and they're going through the "Dark Night of the Soul" it's hard to function normally and to know how to act and be. It's still hard, as a pastor or a friend, to always have the right words to say. What really is the remedy or the right posture? If you're close, it's natural to feel the pain as they do.

King David's assessment of the situation and remedy might go as follows: "Then the king said to his men, 'Do you not realize that a prince and a great man has fallen in Israel this day?' Tear your clothes and put on sackcloth and walk in mourning in front of Abner." Hardly seems appropriate in this day and age but a tempting option given the desperation of the situation we face. (2 Sam. 3:38, 31)

Another remedy David offers is a good cry: "To you, Lord I call; You are my Rock, Do not turn a deaf ear to me, For if you remain silent, I will be like those who go down to the pit. Hear my cry for mercy as I call to you for help, as I lift up my hands toward your Most Holy Place." This might help some. For others you can cry until it feels like your eyes are going to pop out and the pain is still there and the right words don't come. (Ps. 28)

I do take comfort in the words of Henry Nouwen, D. McNeill & D. Morrison in Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life. "When do we receive real comfort and consolation? Is it when someone teaches us how to think or act? Is it when we receive advice about where to go or what to do? Is it when we hear words of reassurance and hope? Sometimes, perhaps. But what really counts is that in moments of pain and suffering someone stays with us. More important than any particular action or word of advice is the simple presence of someone who cares." Know we are with you.



On a lighter note, I was able to get away for a while on Wednesday to clear my mind. I had an opportunity to hike in the Lake Cuyamaca area. I didn't hit the trailhead until 12:30 but there was a nice cloud cover the entire time that provided some shade. It was ideal because of the solitude offered - time alone with the Creator of all that I was able to drink in. The only others I ran into on the trail were one other loner going up on my way down and this group of CDC inmates who joined me at the summit. It was interesting to see this group, clad in orange jumpsuits, led by one fire captain coming up the mountain on their own, and good for their sake, unshackled. My Buck knife suddenly said, "hey dummy, quick, conceal me". They were on their 2nd climb of three for the day.

At one point a flock of 9 wild turkeys crossed the road in front of me. Oh for a shotgun and a couple large sacks. That would have made for a nice early Thanksgiving via Billy's smoker. Somehow they seemed to know they were on protected land.

MercyMe - Hold Fast