So often we’re sold a unicorn and then delivered a donkey. I think this is particularly true with many of our modern digital technologies.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

A missed meal at the table is often a missed opportunity to check in, to observe, and to grow together as a couple and family.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

Tonight my daughter got hold of my wife’s phone and started recording the fireworks. I told her that if she was going to film anything she needed to film the people who were there watching. It will be the people we will want to remember years from now — no one will want to rewatch fireworks.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

“Daddy do you fight dragons?”

“Of course! I fight them every day”

“You do? How come I’ve not seen them?”

“Because I stop them before they make it to our home”

“You’re just being silly; aren’t you?”

“Honey. I keep many dragons away from our home. Every day I keep the dragons of Hunger, poverty, darkness and evil away from this home. You see my dear, some children live in homes where daddies can’t or won’t fight these dragons so they live in homes that are filled with hunger, darkness and things too scary for your precious mind to consider right now”

“Those aren’t real dragons daddy”

“They might not look like the dragons in the picture books, but the dragons I fight to keep our home safe are just as scary and fierce as any mythical dragon”

“Daddy, I don’t understand”

“Honey I know. One day you will. For now just enjoy being a child. One day you’ll have to fight these dragons too but don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to kill them.”

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

What are we profited if our soul is strong but our body weak, sickly or feeble? Similarly it is no good to be physically strong but spiritually weak. The spirit and the body are the soul of man; therefore it behooves each of us to ensure both become strong.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

No one gets to opt out of belief — we all must believe something. The question is; what do we choose believe and why?

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

At some point we must either willingly accept, or be forced to confront the impermanence of our lives. Whether suddenly or slowly, death will claim us all. We are all fellow and equal travelers toward the grave; there are no exceptions.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

There’s no better vehicle for personal growth than a marriage. Inside of a marriage is where we truly get to live and practice the teachings of Jesus Christ — love, forgiveness, compassion, fidelity, service, tolerance, kindness, gentleness; at least this has been my own experience.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

Marriages are living relationships that require constant care — neglect them, and like a beautiful garden they will die.

One way to prevent marital death is ensuring enough quality and quantity time is invested in the marriage. We cannot expect our marriage to thrive if social media, gaming or screens gets more of our time and attention than our spouse and marriage.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

The great irony I see of social media is that it’s fueled the feelings loneliness so many experience today. They sold us a unicorn and delivered a donkey.

I don’t believe a thousand online connections, likes, followers, or friends can replace or fulfill our deeply human need for connection that one good real life friend can.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

It is arrogant for any of us to suggest we have succeeded solely upon our own merit. All of us warm our hands by fires we did not build and drink from wells we did not dig.

Of course effort will always be a required component of achievement, but the real reason we may be able see or reach farther is because we stand on the shoulders of all those who came before us.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

My father is a great man and I am very blessed. But I think he was wrong on at least this one belief; that fathers didn’t need a day to be recognized because it was just another commercial holiday to sell more stuff.

Now it may indeed be true that Father’s Day really is a chance to sell more stuff we don’t really need.

But fathers are just as needed as mothers in the lives of our children — which means they should be celebrated too.

Like a plane that has two wings to fly, children need both a mother and father. We compliment one another and provide things the other likely cannot.

Do we need to buy stuff on Father’s Day? Probably not. But should we set aside one day each year to honor, praise and remember fathers? Absolutely yes!

Happy Fathers Day.

From my home

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

I am a human, which means that I need other humans to thrive — mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

Being human though is hard. Life has its struggles. But it’s most often in those struggles that so much beauty, growth and joy are discovered.

As more people turn to AI for relationships and connection, my call and invitation for each of us is to return to being human! To laugh with loved ones, conquer problems with friends, and experience intimacy with our lovers.

Let’s be human again. Let’s sit around fires and tell stories. Let’s rediscover the stillness and majesty of nature. Let’s build friendships in the furnace of adversity. Let’s dream great visions and discipline ourselves to realize them.

From my home

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

Fast forward to today, where children in a typical high school have instant access to a high-resolution camera and super-fast internet to transmit photos and videos in seconds.

AI (Artificial Intelligence) further adds complexity by allowing even the novice to edit, distort, and manipulate images. Even an innocent photo or video can be transformed into something harmful.

I did some silly, stupid, and dumb things when I was in high school. One that springs to mind was dropping my trousers in class to prove my underwear style. There were maybe 30 students in that class, most of whom probably had no clue it happened.

Such an act in school today would carry a high likelihood of it being captured on video and in seconds spread like wildfire around the student body. Innocent acts of youthful immaturity can quickly be weaponized for teasing, bullying, and manipulation.

I feel so grateful that I grew up mostly at a time when the whole world — especially my friend group — wasn’t capturing everything on a phone.

As I observe these dramatic changes, my commitment to waiting until adulthood to give my children smartphones and social media solidifies.

I want my home to be a refuge for my children where they feel free from peer pressure — a space where they can just be themselves. A place where the whole world isn’t watching, comparing, and tempting them. Somewhere they can leave behind some of the cares of life and be fully present and focused on building real relationships.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston.

In October 2024, a disagreement commenced between our two oldest children that escalated until one of their pumpkins was launched from the front porch breaking into a dozen pieces on the front yard.

Tears were shed, anger was expressed, consequences were administered and the the family moved on.

But spring came and our family was surprised by the appearance of several pumpkin plants growing in our front yard. The seeds from the broken pumpkin had germinated.

We decided to let them grow — and as they grew our excitement and anticipation grew. We excitedly harvested over a dozen pumpkins that sat on our front porch during the fall season.

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In life, our hearts, hopes and expectations, like pumpkins, get broken. Tears get shed, anger gets expressed, and consequences are experienced. Sometimes all we can see is a broken pumpkin and can’t see how anything good can come from something so obviously and irreparably broken.

When we stand staring at what seems forever broken; God sees a beautiful and exciting future harvest.

From one broken pumpkin, our family gained a dozen! This powerful lesson does not mean that broken things don’t cause us pain — they do.

I have experienced many painful and disappointing broken pumpkins in my life — we all have. Not every smashed pumpkin has led to a harvest — yet. But some have produced some of the most plentiful, joyous, and surprising harvests.

God is the gardener and I continue to trust in his timing as I remember and enjoy the fruits of the harvests that are happening today because of yesterdays broken pumpkins.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston

As I continue to accept His invitation to follow Him, I’m beginning to suspect that if I continue to follow His footsteps, sooner or later I will find myself being asked to kneel in Gethsemane and also drink a bitter cup.

From my home in Almost Heaven, xo

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Sometimes we can be too focused on wanting Christ to ease our burdens that we forget that his invitation was for us to take His yoke upon us. Can we comprehend the magnitude of what that invitation might mean?

Christ’s burden was descending below all things. Therefore if I am yoked to Christ, surely that must mean I will also descend with Him.

It seems paradoxical that the pathway to finding rest from our burdens is to yoke ourselves with Christ and help carry the burden that caused Him to bleed from every pore.

But He assures us that his yoke is easy and his burden light.

From my home in Almost Heaven, xo

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Having correct expectations of people, places and life itself is necessary if we are to secure contentment, peace and joy in our lives. When I honestly reflect upon the frustrating, angering, disappointing and depressing moments and periods of my life, I realize that some of them have been induced solely by my own erroneous expectations. I do not believe we should never have expectations, but we must be careful to ensure they remain realistic.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew Royston, xo

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Nothing lasts forever. Everything decays, dies or disappears. The hair that once adorned my head is now gone. The babies I once held are gone and are replaced with the children I love; but these children will slowly disappear into adults, their infancy and childhood never to be retrieved. My body, no matter what I do will decay, become decrepit and die. In the end everything in life will be stripped away. The home I own, the nations I have called home, the woman I love, the friends I have, the body I possess, the money in my bank, the work I do; Everything is impermanent.

So why in this world of obvious impermanence where life itself can end or be forever altered in seconds, do I find myself attempting the cling so tightly to the things of this world. Why do I fear loss when loss is the inevitable outcome of living. I fear losing a child but in a very real sense I have already lost all my babies to the natural process of maturation.

I fear death, yet I die every day. I am no longer a baby or a child. I am no longer a young man. All these versions of me are gone, never to be relived and even the remembrance of them is clouded by inaccurate recollections. The man I am today this very moment as I sit here in West Virginia will not be here tomorrow when I wake up. I am dying. This body I call my own is slowly but surely dying. And when it does it will disappear as though it never was; the elements and particles being absorbed by the earth to become other things.

The idea of ceasing to exist terrifies me. When my body does finally die, what becomes of me? At the core of this is the the question; “Who am I?” Am I just biology and chemistry with a brain; a chance creation in a dark and dangerous universe? I sense deep down that I am more than this, that I am an eternal being, an intelligence that can be neither created nor destroyed, but living in a world of impermanence makes me wonder if I am also impermanent; that death really is the end. And if death is the end then life really does have no meaning.

But my life seems to be imbued with meaning and purpose. Instilled deep somewhere is the feeling that life really does have a purpose. I sense a very real desire to progress toward something or someone that is beyond my natural senses to comprehend.

For these reasons I find myself drawn to Jesus Christ because He seems to be the only one to offer any satisfactory answer to the problem of impermanence and provides the solution to it.

One reason why I believe and hope that the tomb was empty that first Easter morning is because if it is true then the problem of impermanence is solved. The fear of ceasing to exist is vanquished. And whilst it does not provide every answer right now, Christ’s resurrection demonstrates that the death and decay I experience all around me as I sojourn through mortality are not final and will, in the end, be overcome.

If Christ came to show me how to become an eternal being, and if I am serious about following the pathway Jesus Christ walked, then I see no bypass around the garden, the cross, or the tomb. If that is the route Christ had to take then surely I must also enter the garden and kneel, be crucified and lay in a quiet tomb.

As I have sought to better understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ, one conclusion I come to is that His Atonement does not absolve me from having to also descend below all things so that I can experience a fullness of Joy; the majesty and miracle to me is that because Christ went first and did it alone, I do not have to go alone. Because he knows how to do it and has borne the weight; I can choose to yoke myself to Him and not have to walk the pathway to eternal life alone.

The question I find myself asking is do I trust Christ enough to follow Him; to let go peacefully of everything in this world and then step into the quiet garden, to hang on the agonizing cross, and lie in the silent tomb with Him. Am I prepared to say “Thy will be done” and descend below all things yoked with Christ so that on my third day I, like Him, can undo and reverse impermanence, and burst forth from the tomb an immortal, eternal, and everlasting being.

From my home in Almost Heaven,

Matthew, xo

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Hiding the uglier parts of who I am is easy when my life goes untested. Not only is an untested life undesirable when taking the long view, it’s not actually possible. Life is testing. And oh how I have lost my composure during many of my tests. To be capable of composure amid any difficulty, challenge or disappointment is a hallmark of a Christlike character. I suppose that such composure only becomes possible when I allow the uglier parts of my character to be purged from my soul.

From my home in Almost Heaven, xo

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