Memories of Matt

Great is the LORD and greatly to be praised:

Misty and Amy have returned safely from their latest community trip and, though it was discouraging in many ways, the LORD taught them so much everyday! Praise Him for His constant revelation of Himself to His children!

Prayer Necessities for the Skimmers:
1. We are having some serious visa issues right now and will be traveling to Cochabamba tomorrow to try to sort those out with the Bolivian immigration officials. Please pray that we would be accurate representations of the character of Christ before these government officials and that we would be humble and wise in our words.

2. Please be in prayer for our upcoming women's Xtreme training this fall. We have several national women who have expressed interest in being trained to go out and serve as missionaries, and we are so excited about all of this! Please pray that God would call these women first to Himself and then to His service.

3. Please be in prayer for my partner, Leah, as she has been facing some difficulties and discouragement lately. Pray that she would be encouraged by our Lord and that I would be able to encourage her as well.

Bonus for the Readers:

This will be a little different than most of my blogs, and I know some of you might be very glad to hear that. :) I wanted to use this space to pay tribute to my brother, Matt, because this coming Monday, May 3, will mark the fifteenth anniversary of his death. In some ways, it seems like he’s been gone forever but, in some ways, it seems like only yesterday. Matt was my only sibling, and he was 17 years old when he died. This is one of the last family pictures we had taken, from 1993 just before Matt was diagnosed.

Let me tell you a little about him. He was born in October of 1977, when I was in the first grade. At first, I thought he was pretty cool, because I got to leave school early to go to the hospital to see him for the first time. But that was before my dad traded in our beautiful sports car (which had no back seat) for a more practical, but far uglier, van. From that point on, Matt was just my annoying little brother.

Because of the six-year age difference, we weren’t all that close as we were growing up. He had his friends, and I had mine. We fought frequently, of course, but I learned to stop fighting physically when he got big enough to beat me. :)

But we did more than just fight. I remember having some surprisingly in-depth conversations with him. When I was about 14, our mother decided to quit her job to stay home with us, and Matt and I took a walk around the block the night our parents told us that. I remember telling him, “We’re going to have to make some changes and not be as greedy.” And his response was pretty astute for an 8-year-old: “Yeah, we can’t ask for so much stuff.” :)

That being said, Matt never had many problems with asking for what he wanted. When I was in college, I worked as an assistant manager at a local movie theater when I was home from school. One night, one of my employees came to tell me that my brother was there to see me. When I came to see him, I discovered that Matt had brought along with him the entire youth group from church, all of whom seemed to think I would allow them in to watch the movie of their choice for free. And you know what? I did, and my brother just grinned as he walked by me on the way to his free flick.

I was in college when we found out that Matt (pictured here to the right) had lymphoma. We were all shocked, of course. He was 15, six feet tall, a robust and healthy football player. Until he wasn’t.

It’s funny how life can change in an instant. One minute, I’m a 22-year-old college student with a perfectly healthy family back at home. The next, my brother is a cancer patient. Cancer. That’s a really ugly word that inevitably leads to one even uglier thought: Death.

Matt and I had never talked about faith. As a matter of fact, at that point in my life, I wasn’t following the Lord very closely, so I never had any real desire to talk about such things. But, thankfully, my dad asked the tough questions. One day, he asked Matt whether he was afraid, and Matt said no. Dad was understandably surprised, but Matt just said, “Why would I be afraid? What’s the worst thing that could happen? That I could die. But that’s the best thing that could happen.”

Wow. My brother had never really talked much about his faith before, but that explanation showed so much of how the Lord had worked in his life.

In May of 1995, Matt’s faith became sight when he stepped into the very presence of God, never to leave again. I’m sure he heard the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

I still have mixed emotions about it. Does that surprise you? I mean, really, why should I be mixed up about Matt’s death? Shouldn’t the only emotion I have be sadness?

Nope.

Don’t get me wrong. I definitely feel that sadness. Even today, fifteen years after his 20-month-long battle with lymphoma ended, I still miss Matt (pictured here after his bone marrow transplant). I miss how he used to start small fights between my grandparents just so he could sit back and laugh at their bickering. I miss watching “Beavis and Butt-head” with him and listening to him laugh his head off at the antics of two completely idiotic cartoon characters. I miss seeing him do the silliest things to entertain his best friends. I even miss things that never happened, like seeing his high school graduation or being a part of his wedding or watching him play with his children.

But I also feel happiness. Shortly after Matt’s funeral, my dad told me something that was completely beyond my grasp at the time. He said, “If I had the opportunity to bring Matt back today, I wouldn’t.” I didn’t understand that at all then, but I get it now. My brother is in the very presence of God! There’s no more pain, no more crying, no more darkness, and no more death for him. There is only worshipping in the loving arms of His Lord and knowing Him fully. Why would I ever want Matt to come back to this world when he has all of that?

Which brings me to the third emotion I feel: Jealousy. Not in the sense that I want to trade places with him but that I want to be there with him! I now understand completely what Paul meant when he said:

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21)

There was a time when that concept was completely foreign to me. I remember my dad once told me how much he was looking forward to going home to be with the Lord. I was a teenager, and I thought, “I don’t want to do that yet! I want to finish school and have a great career and get married and have kids. All of that heaven stuff can wait!”

Yeah, I don’t feel that way anymore. I have learned that this world has nothing that can possibly compare with eternal life with my Savior. Can you imagine what it must be like to be with the Lord, with nothing standing in the way? Yeah, I can’t either, and I know it would be beyond anything I can even imagine.

Jesus describes eternal life for us in the midst of talking to His Father:

“Now this is eternal life: That they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” (Jn. 17:3)

And Paul gives a little information on the subject in these words:

“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Cor. 13:12)

One day, I will know God fully, even as He knows me. This, my brothers and sisters, is eternal life. Until then, we just have to persevere in what He’s called us to do. But all my hope is beyond this life.

Can’t wait to see you again, Matt. I think it just took me a little longer to learn the lessons you got in seventeen years. You weren’t short-changed; you were rewarded!