Matt was the sort of guy that needed three ministers in life. It was quite comical at times. I say this half jokingly but it’s true! All three of us and many more loved him. I have stories about Matt that stretch from child car locks to diesel fuel. It’s no secret that Matt was a free spirit of sorts and had his own ways about him. That’s what made Matt into the Matt we all know and the Matt that we are all missing today.
The last time I saw Matt was at my ordination service last year. I had no idea that my last time with Matt would be us celebrating my journey. It’s only fitting that I celebrate Matt’s journey under these unfortunate circumstances but first allow me to speak some truth. We don’t need to have an answer to explain this tragic loss of life and honestly that’s okay. If you’re left wondering why none of this makes any sense, I encourage you to stand at ease. It’s not supposed to make sense. You’ll never be able to understand something that is not supposed to make sense. This is easier said than done, but rest in this truth.
As I was combing through Matt’s writings, I ran across something he wrote that really stood out to me. Love is like playing the piano. First you play by the rules. Then, you must forget the rules and play by the heart. There are no better words to describe Matt and the way he lived his life. Matt didn’t always live by the rules like most of us, but I can firmly tell you he enjoyed life better than most of us and we can all learn from this truth.
I’ve chosen to celebrate Matt with some personal stories. When Matt was in High School, some of us decided to build a bonfire and roast hot dogs behind his house. He asked how big he should make the fire and I told him as big as his parents would let him make it. Our life group was a regular set of pyromaniacs mind you, even the ministers. I don’t think Matt ever asked his parents though because none of us could actually get close enough to the fire to roast hot dogs! Matt thought a triple dousing of diesel fuel was necessary when I told him to make a big fire. When we called him out on the diesel fuel, he gave us the grin that only Matt could give. At the time, I thought it was a waste of twenty dollars in hot dogs, but today, I realize it was a lifelong memory in the making.
My favorite memory of Matt was when he put me in my place. Before ministry, I was an infantryman in the Army and all of the guys knew not to mess with me, well accept for guess who, Matt. He challenged that rule one day by wrestling me to the ground and pinning me there. I’m fairly sure I had to cry uncle before he let me up. I know he’s grinning bigger than ever as I admit this in front of his family and friends because I always told him I would never admit it. Matt was a go getter and when he would stretch the limits he would succeed. We may have reminded Matt of his diesel fuel incident from time to time but he made sure to remind me of this encounter during those “time to times” as well. This story reminds me of two verses that Matt memorized. Psalm 18:1 I love you, Lord. You are my strength. 1 Corinthians 8:9 But you must be careful so that your freedom doesn’t cause others with a weaker conscience to stumble.
The memory we all share together is Matt’s car. First he would correct us all and especially the TV reporters in recent days. One time, when Matt and I were riding around, he corrected me three times for telling him I liked his “Lime Green” car. I can hear Matt correcting me now, “It’s Samba, not Lime Green!” Of course, from time to time I would still call his car Lime Green to give him a hard time. He’d promptly remind me that he could take me to the ground.
In case you don’t know, Matt’s car was a Honda Del Sol. His Del Sol represented friendship. On more than one occasion, Matt would give a ride to a friend in need. His Del Sol represented conversation. On more than one occasion, Matt and I exchanged life conversations where we gave each other advice while cruising down the parkway. Matt’s Del Sol represented enjoying life. Many of you experienced just having a good time while riding around with Matt or sitting with him at the Parkette drive-in.
Many of you knew when a Samba Del Sol was in town it meant Matt was in town. Matt’s Del Sol represented ministry and his relationship with God. I’ve seen him bring people to church in that car. I’ve been with Matt window to window as he wrestled around with God sized issues. He sat in his car and I sat in mine and in all of conversations I never doubted that he loved Jesus in his own way. While Matt ultimately lost his life in this car, through Jesus he brought much life to others while riding in his car, more than any of us will ever know.
Philippians 1:21 tells us that living means living for Christ, and dying is even better. We patiently await the resurrection when God will take our weak mortal bodies and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same power with which he will bring everything under his control (Philippians 3:21). Hold fast to these memories and await the day that all of us who are in Christ Jesus will be reunited once again.
The last time I saw Matt was at my ordination service last year. I had no idea that my last time with Matt would be us celebrating my journey. It’s only fitting that I celebrate Matt’s journey under these unfortunate circumstances but first allow me to speak some truth. We don’t need to have an answer to explain this tragic loss of life and honestly that’s okay. If you’re left wondering why none of this makes any sense, I encourage you to stand at ease. It’s not supposed to make sense. You’ll never be able to understand something that is not supposed to make sense. This is easier said than done, but rest in this truth.
As I was combing through Matt’s writings, I ran across something he wrote that really stood out to me. Love is like playing the piano. First you play by the rules. Then, you must forget the rules and play by the heart. There are no better words to describe Matt and the way he lived his life. Matt didn’t always live by the rules like most of us, but I can firmly tell you he enjoyed life better than most of us and we can all learn from this truth.
I’ve chosen to celebrate Matt with some personal stories. When Matt was in High School, some of us decided to build a bonfire and roast hot dogs behind his house. He asked how big he should make the fire and I told him as big as his parents would let him make it. Our life group was a regular set of pyromaniacs mind you, even the ministers. I don’t think Matt ever asked his parents though because none of us could actually get close enough to the fire to roast hot dogs! Matt thought a triple dousing of diesel fuel was necessary when I told him to make a big fire. When we called him out on the diesel fuel, he gave us the grin that only Matt could give. At the time, I thought it was a waste of twenty dollars in hot dogs, but today, I realize it was a lifelong memory in the making.
My favorite memory of Matt was when he put me in my place. Before ministry, I was an infantryman in the Army and all of the guys knew not to mess with me, well accept for guess who, Matt. He challenged that rule one day by wrestling me to the ground and pinning me there. I’m fairly sure I had to cry uncle before he let me up. I know he’s grinning bigger than ever as I admit this in front of his family and friends because I always told him I would never admit it. Matt was a go getter and when he would stretch the limits he would succeed. We may have reminded Matt of his diesel fuel incident from time to time but he made sure to remind me of this encounter during those “time to times” as well. This story reminds me of two verses that Matt memorized. Psalm 18:1 I love you, Lord. You are my strength. 1 Corinthians 8:9 But you must be careful so that your freedom doesn’t cause others with a weaker conscience to stumble.
The memory we all share together is Matt’s car. First he would correct us all and especially the TV reporters in recent days. One time, when Matt and I were riding around, he corrected me three times for telling him I liked his “Lime Green” car. I can hear Matt correcting me now, “It’s Samba, not Lime Green!” Of course, from time to time I would still call his car Lime Green to give him a hard time. He’d promptly remind me that he could take me to the ground.
In case you don’t know, Matt’s car was a Honda Del Sol. His Del Sol represented friendship. On more than one occasion, Matt would give a ride to a friend in need. His Del Sol represented conversation. On more than one occasion, Matt and I exchanged life conversations where we gave each other advice while cruising down the parkway. Matt’s Del Sol represented enjoying life. Many of you experienced just having a good time while riding around with Matt or sitting with him at the Parkette drive-in.
Many of you knew when a Samba Del Sol was in town it meant Matt was in town. Matt’s Del Sol represented ministry and his relationship with God. I’ve seen him bring people to church in that car. I’ve been with Matt window to window as he wrestled around with God sized issues. He sat in his car and I sat in mine and in all of conversations I never doubted that he loved Jesus in his own way. While Matt ultimately lost his life in this car, through Jesus he brought much life to others while riding in his car, more than any of us will ever know.
Philippians 1:21 tells us that living means living for Christ, and dying is even better. We patiently await the resurrection when God will take our weak mortal bodies and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same power with which he will bring everything under his control (Philippians 3:21). Hold fast to these memories and await the day that all of us who are in Christ Jesus will be reunited once again.
