Family, Humor
My writing teacher gave me this assignment and I had a ton of fun putting it together. I figured I’d share it with you here since I got a laugh out of it (the self-effacing tone is meant to be humorous, not glum). Please ignore the citations since I didn’t include the bib with this post. Enjoy!
Living With Forrest Lee Bezotte
My name is Forrest. It’s not a very common name. In fact, my parents gave it to me with no intention of ever calling me by it. They wanted to call me Lee and liked the name Forrest as a middle name. Ultimately, they decided that “Forrest Lee” rolled off the tongue a little easier so they went with that (Hackbarth). My name has always been a blessing and a curse, but I live with it because it could be much worse.
I’m OK with having a somewhat uncommon name, even though research shows that people with uncommon names are perceived to have “undesirable characteristics” (Kalist and Yee 39). I’m sure if research was done specifically on the name Forrest, they would find that it is associated with extreme blandness, an admittedly “undesirable characteristic” but not entirely unacceptable.
Other research points to names having a predictive power for a person’s lifetime outcomes (Aura and Hess 226). I’m going to predict this person’s lifetime outcome as, again, bland. Blandness is not such a bad thing in my opinion. After all, there has never been a major crime figure named Forrest. I can’t recall anyone universally disliked with that name either. However, there are celebrities, such as Forrest Tucker from F Troop and Forrest Sawyer the news caster, who are equally as bland yet very well liked.
The downside to being an amicable, yet bland, chap name Forrest is that you tend to get left off the list when guests are being considered for a wild party. I imagine those party planners making their list and having a conversation somewhat like this;
“Who should we invite?”
“How about Bobby? He’s crazy!”
“Great idea! What about Stacy? She cracks me up!”
“And don’t forget Jim. He brings the best food.
“Absolutely! What about that one guy, uh… Forrest?”
“Who’s that?”
As liked as I’ve been over my lifetime, I’ve never been thought of as a must-have at anyone’s party.
As you could imagine, I have been given different nicknames over the years that were inspired by the name Forrest. One of my uncles calls me Jungle. He finds it clever to refer to me as a wooded area since my name rhymes with Forest. Another of my uncles uses the moniker Trees for me. These nicknames really aren’t so inappropriate considering the meaning of my name.
The name Forrest means “from the woods”. I remember when I discovered that. I was looking through a big book of names hoping to find some profound insight or a discovery that my name meant something powerful and compelling. While other names had meanings like “noble”, “strong”, and “prosperous”, mine insinuated that I was birthed beneath some foliage. Dorothy Astoria writes in “The Name Book” that my name means “Guardian of the Forrest” (113). That meaning conjures thoughts of strength, purpose, and nobility in my imagination. I like it much better than simply “from the woods”.
When my oldest son was born, we decided to pass the name Forrest on to him. We even committed to calling him by that name. Little did we know that there was a movie in theaters, that was growing in enormous popularity, called “Forrest Gump”. I didn’t think much about it until the fiftieth person asked, “Did you name him after the movie character?” Who names their children after movie characters? I’ve never known anyone to name their son Luke Skywalker. Often, when I give my first name, the listener asks,
“Like Forrest Gump?”
and I want to respond with, “No, like Forrest Gregg, offensive right tackle for the Green Bay Packers from 1958 to 1970.” (Profootballhof.com)
My absolute least favorite Forrest Gump reference is when someone shouts to me or my son, “Run Forrest! Run!” I look forward to the day when that film is all but forgotten. Dale Carnegie once wrote, “A person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language.” (117). When it comes to the name Forrest, I’m not so sure.
My parents always called me by my middle name, Lee. In fact, almost everyone called me Lee from the time I was born. It was an easy name to be a kid with. It was easy to pronounce, easy to spell, and still not terribly common. I was always the only one with my name in all my classes and no one thought it was strange. There was a popular actor, named Lee Majors, that was considered rugged and handsome so I had the added advantage of having a little star power behind my name.
The downside to the name Lee was that it rhymes with pee. Other children gave me nicknames like Lee Pee and Lee Pee the Bumblebee. When they really wanted to tease me, they’d yell, “Lee Pee the Bumblebee sitting in a Potty Tree.” I have no idea what a Potty Tree is or why a person would want to sit in one, but the neighborhood bullies seemed to be authorities on them.
When I was in college, I worked at a radio station delivering the news, weather, and occasional song dedication. There I used Forrest as my first name and Lee as my last name, being known on the air as “Forrest Lee”. I felt like it sounded distinguished and I carried that alias with me into some film work. To this day, when my agent calls, she asks to speak to Forrest Lee.
I’m glad my parents decided to call me Lee. I feel like a Lee. I see myself as a Lee, though the name’s meaning isn’t much better than that of Forrest. It means “from the meadow”, which again insinuates that I was birthed beneath some foliage.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there are 33,074 other Forrests in this country (howmanyofme.com) and I wonder if they’ve had similar experiences as my son and myself. I wonder if they go by their middle names or proudly announce “Forrest” when asked to identify themselves. I wonder if it’s been a blessing and a curse for them and I wonder if they’ve come to accept all that comes along with such a strong, unique name.
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Christ Following, life, prayer
“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” – Aristotle
“Discipline is freedom.” Wrap your brain around that! I read through Foster’s book with an equal amount of conviction and excitement about a disciplined life. I’ve always considered myself a relatively disciplined person (at least in a few areas) but I know I could use an adjustment here and there. I learned a long time ago that praying for God to help me be disciplined was crazy talk like praying for longer hair or bigger muscles. Discipline is a choice and a daily decision. It’s not just going to come over you by supernatural influence.
The thing I’ve found though, is that it really DOES bring freedom! I meet with people all the time that are struggling. They struggle with their commitment to Christ, they struggle with their weight, they struggle with their marriage, they struggle with… everything! It astounds me how many times the answer just comes back to discipline. To the struggling believer, I ask, “How’s your prayer life?” The answer is usually a long list of activities that are taking priority over prayer. I see friends struggling with their weight that just can’t seem to establish a discipline of exercise and restraint, pastors with declining churches that won’t discipline themselves to read, grow, and learn a better way, and families falling apart that fail to discipline themselves to say no to all the things that compete for their time together.
I know that’s a pretty general approach to many of the problems that we face. My intention is not to come off as insensitive and all “Drill Sargent-y”. But isn’t it much easier to wish than it is to take practical steps to do? I turned my life over to Christ 25 years ago. I’ve seen many wonderful people turn away from the faith during that time, and I have the pleasure of worshiping alongside others who were with me when I made the most important decision ever. When I look at the lives of those who fell away, gave up the fight, and abandoned their relationship with God, I find only one common thread, only one difference between them and those who are still serving Him today, and it’s a lack of discipline to seek God. That’s it! We all had similar problems, obstacles, and issues. It’s just that the disciplined ones stayed. Hence the old saying, “He who prays stays, and he who fasts lasts“.
There’s an old man in his 90s that I know from the YMCA. His name is Ernie. He swims six days a week! Because of his discipline, he has energy, he’s strong, mobile, and sharp as can be. He didn’t start swimming when he turned 90. He’s been doing it for decades, and now he experiences a great deal of freedom for a man his age. Many men, younger than him, come into the gym feeble, sickly, and tired because they they spent so many years without discipline and now they’re there under doctor’s orders. I don’t know about you, but I want to be like Ernie!
Being disciplined helps you to last. It brings freedom from bondage. It conditions you to serve better. It creates a condition in you that allows God to transform you!
If you don’t believe me, give it a try. Pick a discipline, like prayer or reading, and stick to it every day for six weeks. You WILL notice a difference! Your desires change. You start to long for the good stuff. Your capacity for achievement increases because you’re growing and expanding. Your mind even starts to sharpen because you’re forcing yourself to develop new habits (a side effect to counter-intuitiveness).
I believe so strongly in the power of discipline that, if it doesn’t help you, I’ll refund the money I charged you for reading this blog 😉
One last thing. If you do decide to give it a try, think about posting your benefits on this blog. You never know who you’ll encourage!
Christ Following, culture
I’ve been reading lately about the confessions of Patrick and Augustine. They had struggles and shortcomings just like me and you, yet they had a profound impact for Christ on the world around them. Most of us would be honored to accomplish one tenth of what these men did. In our impotence and ineffectiveness, we feel the need to put on masks to hide the things we feel would tarnish our public image. The appearance of having it all together even supersedes the need to reach out when we need help, or seek counsel when we’re hurting. It’s strange since these men let it all hang out and changed the world anyway.
So, if these men can lay themselves bare, with great faith in God’s covering, why can’t we? Why do we, like Adam, hide our nakedness even from God? Maybe it’s because everyone’s doing it. Maybe if someone else would start, a chain reaction of transparency and vulnerability would occur, allowing God to mightily use these broken vessels that seem to only want to be carefully displayed. Since someone has to start, I think I will.
My upbringing was far from the traditional nuclear family. My folks divorced when I was still in grade school. My mom had to go to work to raise my brother and me, which left me alone to find all sorts of trouble to get into, including watching some very inappropriate things on television, ding dong ditching the neighbors, and being a general pest alongside my friends. I wasn’t great in school and secured my ranking as average in most of my classes. I wrestled in 7th, 8th, and 9th grade but never actually won a match.
In high school, I found a relationship with Christ in a major way. Unfortunately, I was a pharisee and would harshly judge people. I had a sarcastic side a mile wide and would bring some people to tears by getting a laugh at their expense. I dated the wrong girl and barely made it to graduation with my virginity intact. I learned some things about myself, during my teenage years, that would really hurt me later in life. I had charm, wit, and charisma and I knew how to use them to sail through certain things instead of patiently doing the hard work that prepares us for greater service.
I dropped out of college early because I already had a decent preaching ministry (thanks to charm and charisma) and I thought school was “for suckers”. I felt the impact of that decision when I failed my first credentialing exam. I burned bridges during those early ministry years by taking an “I’m going to say whatever I feel God is telling me to” attitude instead of taking the role of a servant.
When I transitioned from speaker to youth pastor, I spoke ill of my senior leader and got fired. It wasn’t the only time I was fired from a ministry position and had to learn many lessons the hard way. I’ve attempted to pioneer a couple of ministries that ended when I tucked my tail between my legs and gave up. I came up with grand excuses and logical reasons for quitting, but in the end it was because I just couldn’t hack it.
I’ve wasted away many hours with distractions, diversions, and a complete lack of focus. I’ve lied about my efforts, distorted results, and manipulated perceptions. I’ve stolen, cheated, and allowed things in my “ear-gates” and “eye-gates” that don’t belong. I am, in short, a complete mess.
But…
But God’s grace has been all over me like a warm blanket. He’s used this big pile of broken, dysfunctional mess to make a difference in the lives of young and old. He’s lovingly humbled me and used me to bless others. He’s used me to build significant student ministries. He’s sent me overseas to be a blessing to pastors. He’s allowed me to lead large groups of young people in passionate prayer.
The Lord has placed wonderful mentors in my life to teach, guide, and disciple me. I’ve had the honor of “carrying the cloak” of men with powerful ministries and exceptional leadership skills. He’s given me a great love for reading and has taught me things that have changed my ministry paradigm; things that I’ve been able to pass on to others.
I’ve had the thrill of working alongside major movie actors and directors. I’ve been on the set of an Oscar winning production. I’ve worked behind the camera, in front of the camera, and on the air.
I’ve shared in churches and in media all over the country and in Ireland. I’m seriously amazed at the opportunities God has given this uneducated, distracted, mess of a man. Want to know what the greatest thing is though?
My family. When I look at my kids, I don’t see the loneliness and brokenness I felt as a child. They’re healthy and they love Jesus with all their heart! God made me a good dad and THAT is a miracle! I’m crazy about my wife of almost 18 years too! I know this is His hand because I couldn’t stick with anything for more than three months, twenty years ago.
God’s tenacious grace has rooted itself deep into my soul. I’m bound to it and it to me. I’m nothing without it so I’m immeasurably grateful for it. That’s my confession.
What’s yours?
Family, Jesus, social justice
This year we decided to start a new family tradition. Like many families hit by economic downturn, we didn’t exactly have a ton of presents under the tree. That’s tough for a parent. We want to spoil our kids with all sorts of toys and goodies. Our three boys have been anticipating this day all year and we wanted to do it right.
Something struck me a few weeks ago, though. My work with WorldHope.us has been seriously educating me on what it means to not have much. I felt down about semi-empty stockings while people in my own community are sleeping under the bridge. And you know what? We have something so many don’t have: each other.
So, we decided to share each other this year at a local homeless shelter called King’s Harvest. In 2009, they served 27,000 meals to the poor and needy. Our objective was simply to go and be a blessing to someone during Christmas lunch. It turned out to be the best Christmas experience I’ve had in a long time.
There were so many volunteers there that they didn’t need us to serve so we found someone who was all alone and planted ourselves next to her. Her name was Shelby and she had no family. Her children all lived far away and she hasn’t heard from them in several years. Her only companion was a kitten, and he ate half of what little food she had. We had the great privilege of being her family for the next hour.
We learned that she’s lived in New Mexico, Colorado, Wisconsin, and Upper Michigan just like me. She was a Farah Faucet fan and she likes Lee Majors. She finds the mountains of Albuquerque beautiful and a spiritual experience to explore. As we shared stories, laughs, and observations, I couldn’t help but notice the gradual change in her countenance. Life begun to show in her eyes, she smiled more, and she became much more demonstrative.
At one point, a homeless woman stood at the front of the room and sang “Silent Night” with incredible passion and grace. The whole room erupted in applause and then we continued our conversation. Shelby told us how she’s been so lonely and depressed and what a gift it was to spend time with us. It lifted her spirits and blessed her heart. It was a blessing to me too! Thank you Shelby, for letting us be your family for an hour!
I have to admit, it was such a blessing to be a blessing. Acts 20:35 is SO TRUE! “It is more blessed to give than to receive.“ I’ll treasure the experience (and keep going back to help some more) far longer than any of my Christmas presents will last and my boys are learning the value of giving of themselves to bless others.
So what? I’m learning that no matter how little we have, we still have enough to bless those with less. What an incredible lesson!
Merry Christmas!!
Cole, Forrest, and Hudson with their new friend Shelby
