photo(1)

Title: Drawing Blanks in Prosaic Writing

A Memoir, written by Matt Steele.

“I honestly just don’t get it Matthew,” my English teacher sighed. She settled further into
her chair and took in my complete lack of concern for this intervention. “You are such a talented
student and I love hearing how you engage in class. I mean it. I love the way you get involved
and ask questions.”

“Here it comes,” I thought to myself. “They all say it.”

“What is it going to take to make you successful in this class?”

Continue reading “Title: Drawing Blanks in Prosaic Writing”

gtgback2.jpg

Surface vs. Center

I’m very concerned with appearances. It’s a struggle I’ve had for a while. Honestly, this blog post is not going to be as polished as some of the others I might write, because in my heart I know that appearances are less important than content. This world loves appearances because they’re physical, and physical is a great way to ignore the spiritual. But content is spiritual. Content is the guts to your physical skin. Content is the soul to your physical body. Content is what matters, ultimately – the contents of character and not the color of skin, to roughly paraphrase Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Continue reading “Surface vs. Center”

Steeple

The Tallest

We used to do a game with hands

Like most things, as a child, I didn’t understand

But we’d fold them and split them and we’d point them towards the heavens

Like in most things, as a child, I simply wanted to go home

It took six years to learn about steeples and what they were

I remembered in high school learning about the one we had in town

In a class about current events

People argued whether it should be taller than anything else

To this day I’m still not sure whether it really is taller than anything else

Yet I understand the intent, and I look up at that chapel soaring high above the rest

We seem to focus on that and miss the things at street level

Doors to enter into and windows to see through

Brick and mortar

Glass caked with wax and glue from a hundred years of use

I think we sometimes forget that God appreciates a handmade candle

He doesn’t focus on them and dwell on them like we do, but He appreciates them

When He sees the things we’ve poured ourselves into, He sees us, and He loves the us that’s in them

I give glory to God almighty for anything I pour myself into

And then I understand why we built steeples

Yet we argue, and we fight over whether it needs to be the tallest, when we’re missing the whole point

When we get angry and hate each other for building a building taller than the building we’ve built

I suspect we missed the whole reason we built it that way in the first place

Like most things, as a child, I don’t understand

But I fold my hands like I did then and I split them and then I point them towards the heavens

Like in most things, as a child, I simply wanted to go home