Hector is my hero

Those of you that have been tracking with the Watsons know that we spent several years in the heart of California's Central Valley, Fresno.  Recently, Lisa and the 3 Watson boys took a couple of trips back to a city that holds lots of fantastic memories and twice as many fantastic friends.  

Our two visits, one in May and another in June, both centered on weddings.  We spent our time visiting friends, eating some of the best Mexican food (Fajita Fiesta & Lola's) and tossing in some In 'n Out Burgers for good measure and otherwise celebrating our faces off.  

There are several stories from our visits that could be told, but I have to tell this one.

Hector Guzman is my barber.  I have had a lot of hair cuts in my life.  No one makes me look as good as Hector does.  And no one reminds me more often of God's love despite the difficulties of life like Hector.  I first met Hector and his wife nearly 8 years ago when they were on welfare but working really hard to get off and on their feet.  I was directing a mentoring program that matched people on gov't assistance with Christian mentors.  The goal was gainful employment and a deepened faith.  It wasn't long after I met Hector that he started cutting hair at a barber shop in central Fresno.  Slowly Hector built up his clientele.  Actually, it wasn't that slowly.  Reputation got around and Hector had a healthy base of customers.

On this last visit to Fresno, I intentionally let my hair grow so that Hector could 'do me right'.  When I got to World Hair Stylist Barber Shop I noticed that Hector was in the first chair, not his normal second chair.  I commented about Hector 'moving up'.  Turns out the owner of the shop, Lou, passed away last year.  A gentleman who will be missed.  Rather than find a new shop in which to rent a chair, Hector decided to buy the shop, keep the guys who were cutting with him and keep being a pillar in the community and an encouragement to anyone who asks his story.  

Before leaving Hector's, I told him how proud I was of him.  I told him several times.  And as I drove down Blackstone, I cried tears of pride and thanked God for him.  Hector is my hero.

Going to see about a girl

Two weeks ago Lisa and the boys headed to western Maryland for a 2 1/2 week visit with her mom.  The first part of her visit I was away in Nicaragua, but for the past several days I was in Memphis flying solo.  I don't do solo very well.  So, rather than continue in my spiral of sorrow over missing my family, on Tuesday I woke up, bought a plane ticket, rented a car and made my way to Oakland, MD.  Before I left the house, I grabbed the video camera so I could chronicle the adventure.  Here's the short of it.  

Journey to Lisa from Matthew Watson on Vimeo.

Visiting with a modern day Saint

There have been times in my past, when speaking to a group of pastors, or volunteers or missionaries that I'll refer to those dear ones as 'saints'.  And, certainly they are and at the time of my delivery I certainly meant it.  Last week however, I spent 3 days with one who is undeniably, while still living, cannonized in the halls of Saint-dom.  

If you've not yet heard of Dr. John Perkins, I don't know how to put this politely, but the price you're paying for that ignorance is a costly penalty.  

I first met Dr. Perkins in 2002 in Pasadena, Ca while attending my first CCDA conference.  His sermons amazed me.  Then I began to learn about his life and that amazed me even more deeply.  Born to a bootlegging, sharecropping family in Mississippi in the 20's, Dr. Perkins' life is a tale of redemption that radiates out from his life and washes over a city, state, nation and world.  Fleeing a racist South in the 50's, Dr. Perkins was introduced to Christ as a young husband and father while living in California.  Following his conversion, God called him back to the segregated Mississippi to which he swore he'd never return.   

Perkins' 50 years of faith in Mississippi has walked between the beautiful balance of evangelism and social action; fighting for civil rights and contending for spiritual awakening, ensuring access to healthcare and education for the poor and ensuring that there are ministries and churches dedicated to communicating a holistic gospel.  

Last week I spent 3 days with John Perkins and other members of his family.  I sat at his feet while he shared his stories of struggle and joy - stories that stretch back before I was born.  Back before my parents were born.  Stories of God moving in the racial integration of truck stops woven through other stories of God moving in the training of black pastors and other stories of God moving in the hearts of whites and blacks for reconciliation.  Stories of redemption and life that find their origins in the empty tomb of Christ.  

So much of how Lisa and I have lived our lives for the past 8 years has been shaped by the life and ministry of John Perkins.  Our desire to relocate into the broken places of Fresno, Nigeria and now Memphis was first given language by Dr. Perkins.  Our heart to see people reconciled to the Creator first and to one another second - especially as it relates to racial reconciliation - has always been better articulated by Perkins.  Our passion to see the lives of people of means intertwined with the lives of people who have been made poor continues to be encouraged (and challenged) by 'Grandpa Perkins'.  In essence, the way in which I pastor, lead and preach is indebted to Perkins.

Even now, as I lead and love the spunky little suburban congregation on the outskirts of Memphis, Perkins' life and themes continue to dominate my thinking.  And coming out of my 3 days in Jackson, MS, I can't stop thinking about how these issues of the gospel are to be animated at Living Hope.  For we cannot dismiss them as simply 'strategies' of ministry in a poor, black rural or urban context.  The Biblical themes and mandates on such issues will not allow.  

On more than one occasion, JP told me (and the 12 other 'emerging CCDA leaders' I was with) that the mantle is passing and has passed on to us.  We who are living out this message of Jesus in a holistic way among the poor, among others who follow the ways of Jesus.  

I pray that I will be found a faithful steward of that mantle.  More importantly, that I'm found a faithful steward of the gospel.  A gospel that stands for the poor and marginalized.  A gospel that calls to the lost and invites.  A gospel that loves the rich and invites them to use what they have for Kingdom causes.  A gospel that changed the life of John Perkins.  And changed my life too.  And continues changing me.

 

Surviving & Thriving in Nica

Initially it seemed like a good idea.  Then we weren't so sure.  Then we thought, "it'll be ok".  Then we had our doubts.  

Leading a team of 10 on a mission & humanitarian trip to Nicaragua can be loads of fun mingled with loads of stress.  But the Mrs. and I decided to add a little icing on the fun_stress cake by taking our two boys along.  After all, we'd been there before with the oldest kiddo in 2007.  Granted, it was just the 3 Watsons then.  No team.  No stress really.  Just hanging out at El Samaritano with the Sirkers.  Quite relaxing actually.  

What we hoped to illustrate was that families could actually serve together.  Even in a foreign context.  We wanted to push against any prevailing thought that once you have children then service (outside the home) takes a back seat and missionary work is only for the young and single; or at least the young & married with no children.  But to be honest, we had the thought that, we could actually prove quite the opposite.  We had images in our mind of returning from Nica, looking like ragged Survivor contestants after 40 days on the island WhoopAss and with our boys looking like the 'bad tribe' from Lord of the Flies - all of us warning other families, "Don't do it!  Turn back now!  Danger ahead!".

But that's not our story.  The truth is, we had a really good time.  We traveled with a team that exhibited the beautiful balance of caring for the team (our boys included) and displaying gigantic amounts love and care for the Nicaraguan children.  Our boys opened avenues of ministry and friendship that would otherwise have been closed to us.  They did this just by being themselves, by being cute.  

Sure, nap schedules were a little off.  There were moments of grumpyness. But in some ways that's no different than last tuesday when we had to spend the day shopping at Target AND Costco in the same afternoon.  But those times afforded us an opportunity to teach our oldest lessons on prayer (and teach ourselves lessons on patience).  

I watched our oldest pray for other children who have physical disabilities.  I watched our youngest smile at Nicaraguan school girls.  I watched my wife train other Nicaraguan moms on healthy child discipline.  As a family we prayed over schools and ministries.  We sang Alabare` ("Praise" in spanish) in places where, frankly, it was a little difficult to sing (a neonatal ICU unit, that looked more like a garage than a hospital).  

I have no idea how this trip and others that we may take together as a family will shape our boys (or our family for that matter).  My hope is that it shapes us into really good images of Jesus.  I hope that the saints we meet along the way influence my boys and help them grow into men that reflect their namesakes.  

And if along the way, we happen to look like survivor contestants or Lord of the Flies tribes, I'm attributing that to being parents of a rowdy three year old and an ornery 9 month old.

Dancing in the Kitchen

The days run by and its a month since our last post.  I'm trying to figure out what we've been doing that's kept us away from the keyboard.  

Basically, it's been things like this....

and then a few days later there was a week of this....

but before all of that there was this...

Dancing in the Kitchen from Matthew Watson on Vimeo.

 and that's really about it.