G-Poppers … June 22nd, 2018

One of G-Pop’s children came to him with great concern.

She was troubled about two gentlemen she knew who were in the midst of a contentious and vicious argument over politics. They were both good men, good fathers and they were both Christian.

But the climate of division had overcome both of them, and they began to take it out on each other, leveling nasty insults in the direction of the other person, once a dear friend.

One man was a Republican and one man was a Democrat. But they both were Christian–shall we say Jesonian?–followers of the heart of Jesus.

Like many people in the lifetime of Jesus, they were looking for political solutions rather than personal revivals in their own hearts.

These two gentlemen had taken their eyes off the personal prize of discovery and placed their faith into the knowledge and politics of the day.

They were arguing about President Trump.

The Republican brother found himself in the defensive profile, trying to explain what was happening in our country the best he could, while the Democrat brother was using insults, derogatory statements and anger to attack the leader of our country.

It is affecting their friendship.

It is taking what was meant to be unified and breaking it apart.

Each one of them is convinced that the other couldn’t be a Christian and maintain the feelings he has about President Trump. They fail to understand that there are three principles set forth by Jesus of Nazareth.

If the Republicans ignore any of the three, then for a season we must walk away from the Republicans. Likewise, if the Democrats set any one of the three to the side, that party has to be negated in favor of greater words.

The three principles are:

1. No one is better than anyone else.

2. Judge not or you’ll be judged.

3. Love your neighbor as yourself.

These can’t be compromised just because we want to promote a candidate, and they certainly can’t be ignored to maintain affiliation with a political party.

Two good men are fighting because both of them are sacrificing their Jesonian beliefs to support an earthly power structure.

So G-Pop says to his children, don’t speak evil of the President of the United States. Keep your hand on the plow and follow the three principles listed above. And where you see problems come in, don’t resort to cheap insult and vulgar retort. Hang on.

The words of Jesus have lasted much longer than any ideas from any politician, and they certainly will be around long past the next election.

 

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3 Things… June 21st, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

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To Consider Before You Apologize

1. Be prepared for the apology to be rejected.

 

2. Allow the offended party to be unforgiving without your comment

 

3. Let the apology stand. Avoid further conversation. It is poison. Step away. Let time heal.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … June 20th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3709)

Fly Girl

I want to apologize to you

For feeling so sorry for me

It’s just that everything is new

Not used to being free

 

Do I enjoy feeling pain

So I can nurse the sore?

Flirting with a hurtful insane

Sitting in the dark on the floor

 

Do I understand I was wrong

Remember the twist in my mind?

I finally feel like I belong

With a heart, generous and kind

 

My hands are strong

My mind is clear

It took so long

To calm my fear

 

Yet I yearn for grace once again

Embarrassed to feel so weak

At the mercy of my lingering sin

Still inheriting with the meek

 

As a girl I dreamed of flying

Across the sky, crystal blue

Lying, sighing, trying and crying

A seeker without a clue

 

Lord, give me wings like a bird

So I can finally see

The beauty of your heart and word

And all your love for me

 

Fly… fly… fly

Try… try… try

Fly girl.

Our guest reader is Angy, entrepreneur, wife, mother of two daughters, from Fort Lauderdale, Florida

 

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Cracked 5 … June 19th, 2018

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Jonathots Daily Blog

(3708)

Really Odd Reasons to Get Married

A.  To have that tan line around your ring finger so when you take a shower you can jump up and down in your birthday suit, saying, “Yay-yay, yay-yay! Look at me!”

 

B.  Your spouse’s breath smells like onion rings, so your mind never drifts too far from Burger King

 

C.  Turns out, with the union and marriage, you can stay with your same bank

 

D.  Your husband has a pet ostrich named Oscar, and he really, really, really likes you

 

E.  You are able to find the perfect last name to go with your first one–so much so that it even rhymes: Carol Farrell.

 

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Salient…June 18th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3707)

There are matters that are too important to ignore or leave to chance. These are salient moments.

I have never been quite certain what the purpose is for a disclaimer. If you’re going to disavow a claim, why make it in the first place? Yet since I have the tendency to pursue hypocrisy, I shall make the following disclaimer:

I am fully aware that the toys I am about to mention are archaic, old-fashioned and certainly not in the lexicon of anyone under the age of thirty-five. Yet attempting to substitute modern toys would remove much of the charm, and still make me irrelevant within five years.

So let me say that when Eddie came to my house for a play date, I was fully expecting him to show up with marbles.

(Marbles are little circular glass toys of all sorts of colors. You pinched them with your fingers, rolling them across the floor and striking your friend’s marble, and in so doing, you won control of his prize. It was very popular back when you were able to play outside because the dinosaurs had gone to their watering hole.)

But when Eddie arrived, he did not have his marble sack. Instead he was carrying four brand new cans of Play-Doh. For those unacquainted with Play-Doh, it is best explained as a molding clay in various colors with which you could use to form objects and declare yourself artistic.

Eddie’s parents had just purchased the Play-Doh and he was obsessed with the stuff. I was offended because he had not warned me, and I was prepared to play marbles.

We struck a bargain: he would work with his Play-Doh and I would pursue marbles. This lasted half an hour.

We were miserable.

I kept looking over at his Play-Doh and he kept peering at my marbles, each of us insisting that we were happy–while secretly aggravated because we weren’t playing with each other.

Finally I interrupted the process and suggested we take the Play-Doh, roll it into tiny circles resembling marbles and mingle the games, instituting a new format called “Play-Doh Marbles.”

It seemed ingenious, but the Play-Doh would not roll, so we tried throwing the little clay circles at the actual marbles, and it came off as stupid.

It was a play day from hell–so frustrating that we cut it short, growled at each other a bit and separated to our households of security.

Now, as I rose and listened to the news this morning, I realized that we have much the same situation in our world.

Everybody is showing up with their favorite toys. Because we insist that nothing matches, nothing is the same, nothing is culturally equivalent, we are playing side-by-side with our own rendition of fun, privately pissed off.

No one seems to have the sense to look for common toys, mutual ground or general excitement. We have become convinced that “marble people” are better than “Play-Doh people,” and because of that “Play-Dough people” should not be allowed near “marble people.” We even make up rumors about “Play-Doh people” and diminish their character. Sometimes we even say that “Play-Doh people” smell. Or is it the “marble people?”

Earth does not work unless we agree on the toys. I can think of three right away:

1.  Kindness.
2.  Respect
3.  Passion

Without this trio, the Trinity look like three bums who came into town to hold a revival and nobody showed up.

It is time for your salient moment:

If you can play with your dough, you won’t mind losing your marbles.

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Catchy (Sitting 53) Assigning Blame… June 17th, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

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She birthed triplets.

Jenesca Bradbury, in a matter of just a few minutes of time, brought three living souls into the world.

There was no father present–matter of fact, no father was ever brought up or even mentioned. Just three little boys and their mother.

She named them Jubal, Jasper and Jamison.

They were born into poverty, they learned to live in poverty, and most importantly, Mother Jenesca made sure they were happy, though poor.

For the first two-and-a-half years of their lives the boys lived in Salinas with their mom at their grandmother’s house. It was difficult. The house was small and Grandma was sensitive to too much noise.

So one night when Jenesca wiggled a furlough from the house for some private time, she sat at a bar and met a man named Roy.

Roy Carlos. He was a farmer from Clovis, who spent all of his time planting, picking and selling fruit.

After the second–or maybe it was the third–drink, Roy suggested that Jenesca pick up her three boys and move down to Clovis. He had an old Amish barn about four hundred yards from the main house which could be fixed up and turned into living quarters for her little family. He promised her work, pay, and a way to keep the kids busy with chores, which would provide a legitimate form of daycare.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the tugging emotions from the pedal steel guitar in the country music playing in the background. Maybe it was a young woman who was just tired of living with her mother and pretending she was dead. Whatever the reason, Jenesca agreed.

In less than a week, she, Jubal, Jasper and Jamison ended up on Roy’s farm, fixing up the loft in the barn, trying to turn it into something that resembled a home. Some folks from the local church brought in furniture and managed to hook up a stove and refrigerator to make it seem more functional instead of just a hair-brained scheme.

Like many women before her, Jenesca decided that this was what she was going to do and she would find a way to be content with it.

Roy was a happily married man, and his wife tried hard to be tolerant of the new young hen who had crept into the barnyard. Still–Mrs. Carlos was suspicious. Roy kept his distance, and Jenesca tried to be good, but within a year’s time they were lovers.

They were very careful to keep it quiet, and had all of their rendezvous at the Holiday Inn in Fresno. But Mrs. Carlos was always aware that when a teenager was hired to watch the three boys, it meant there was a party in the making.

Amazingly, it didn’t change anything. Maybe Mrs. Carlos was tired of Roy, or Roy had some magical personality that he unleashed on his wife at just the right moments. No one ever knew how the situation worked. After a while the gossips got tired of chatting about it, and accepted the fact that three young men were growing up in a barn, and three grown-ups were practicing what might be considered to be barnyard morality.

There was always work, and because of this, money was available. Not much. Mother Jenesca referred to it as “aggravating dough.” Just enough cash on hand to make you wish you had more.

The boys never enrolled in school. Although Jenesca was of European descent, all three of her sons had golden brown skin, leading everyone to believe that Jenesca had welcomed immigration. She wasn’t comfortable with her fellows being away from her, so she taught them. She taught them everything she knew, everything other people thought they should know and a whole lot of things from the Bible that she considered necessary.

They did attend church–one that mingled Baptists and Pentecostals who agreed to participate in each other’s activities to keep peace. All three boys were born again at the age of twelve. All three felt the God was calling them to do something other than pull rotten peaches from baskets. And all three of them had stars in their eyes while simultaneously surrounded by very dark nights.

It came time for Mother Jenesca’s birthday. The boys were fifteen years old and decided they wanted to do something special. She had never been on a trip. She cleaned up, dressed up and acted like she was going to Paris every time she drove down the road to Fresno with Roy.

Jubal, Jasper and Jamison wanted to send their mother on a trip to New York. They priced it: $823.

Jasper had an idea. There was a convenience store in Clovis. Out behind the store, surrounded by weeds, was a Camaro. It was ugly, but still in solid enough shape that it could be fixed up and sold to folks who liked such vintage wheels. Jamison got pen and paper and figured out that it would take about a thousand dollars to fix it up if they did all the work themselves. Then another thousand would be needed to put tires on it and give it a good paint job. Finally, a thousand dollars for the trip to New York.

So the three boys figured if they could get three thousand dollars out of the car, they would be coming up with the best birthday gift ever. They were told by those in the know that such a vehicle would actually garner about five thousand dollars.

There was only one obstacle. Could they talk the manager of the convenience store into letting them have the Camaro? After all, it had been growing with the sucker-plants for at least a year.

It was decided that Jubal would speak for the trio. They were completely delighted when the owner said if they could get it out of there, they could have it.

A time was set to meet with the store owner to sign the title over and for them to pick it up. Jasper borrowed the truck from Roy and headed out for the store.

They were all ready to collect their prize, but the owner was very busy. Matter of fact, they ended up sitting in the truck for three hours, until it was time for the store to close.

Then everything seemed to go just fine. The title was signed over, and they started removing the car from its buried condition. The owner left the store and drove away.

About fifteen minutes later, while they were hooking chains onto the car to pull it out, a Clovis police car rolled in. Jubal quietly and slowly got out of the truck and walked to the middle of the parking lot with his hands held high. Jasper followed Jubal’s lead and did the same.

But Jamison was stuck under the Camaro, trying to hook the chain onto the drive shaft. He didn’t see nor did he hear the police arrive.

So Jamison slid out from under the car and came walking up from the darkness with a big wrench in his hand. The young Clovis policeman was surprised. He had already pulled his gun to ensure there would be no trouble. When he saw Jamison emerging with the silver tool, he fired at him.

It was an accident.

He didn’t even know he had pulled the trigger until Jamison was lying on the ground bleeding. The two brothers ran over. Jamison had taken a hit between the eyes. There was no life; no movement.

It crashed into their minds that suddenly the three had become two.

******

This ended the essay written by Jennifer Carmen and delivered on Monday morning at the NBC affiliate. When she first arrived, there hadn’t been much interest in her presence, nor the project. Obviously, Raoul had not promoted the idea to the management.

But Jubal, anticipating the situation, had arrived with ten copies of the essay and passed them around to secretaries, copy writers and bosses.

As Jen chatted with a couple of sales people, suddenly the room was filled with moans, groans and tears. One of the big-wigs emerged from his office and said, “Who in the hell wrote this?”

Jen sheepishly raised her hand.

He continued. “Is this real? Did you get this story from Jubal Carlos?”

Jen nodded her head and answered, “Yes. That and many more.”

“So he has a twin brother?”

Jen nodded but added no further explanation. The next thing she knew, she was called into the office and given a contract for a nine-part series to be shared on the nightly news.

The boss introduced himself as Mr. Wiggens. Mr. Wiggens just sat there and shook his head, glancing over the piece one more time.

“I know they say this all the time, but this is gold. Hell, this is gold.”

 

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Jesonian … June 16th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3705)

“When are we going to stop all this stuff you’re teaching and go back to who we really are?”

This statement seems to ooze from the twelve disciples throughout Jesus’ entire three-and-a-half year ministry.

They didn’t mind being taught, just as long as they didn’t have to learn.

And they didn’t mind learning sometimes, as long as they didn’t have to apply.

And applying was alright every once in a while, as long as it was a one-time thing that didn’t need to be repeated.

You can look at the disciples as either some of the whiniest men that ever walked the face of the Earth, or be candid and admit that they were typical.

Typical of us all.

Every one of us arrives at the Gospel with too many pre-conceived ideas. No wonder Jesus referred to the experience as being “born again.” Otherwise, we try to join a club that pursues all the traditions we have contrived since our birth.

Why are we going to Samaria?

Why was this man born blind?

Why do you talk so tough to the Pharisees?

Why can’t we divorce women?

Why are we supposed to love our enemies?

Why don’t we kill the Romans and start over again?

Why can’t I be scared in a boat when there’s a storm?

Why are we inviting tax collectors into our really neat band of brothers?

Why can’t we bring down lightning and thunder on the Samaritans?

You see, the Gospel is not just a plan of salvation, it’s also salvation from our plan.

Because without the Gospel, everyone would run hither, thither and yon, starting their own renditions of what Jesus said, coming up with funny-sounding names, and focus on one doctrine over another.

Wait. We’re already doing that.

The greatest gift you can give to yourself is to know that Christianity is a lifestyle, not a religion.

It is not a revolving door, where we enter to worship, and leave to catch the beginning of the football game on Sirius Radio on the way home.

The Gospel is the essence of eternity, functioning on Earth. No other philosophy, no other interaction and no other manifesto ever came along which included God, Nature and people.

Instead, each of these other religions focus on one of these factors. In some religions, God is over-emphasized. Other approaches place too much importance on Nature. And of course, there are philosophies which contend it’s a human situation–i.e., every man for himself.

The Gospel is not going away. It is not going to be replaced or even mingled with provincialism. It took the disciples a long time to understand this.

But if we all join together with good hearts and good cheer, we might be able to shorten the process and get people rejoicing again, with exceeding gladness.

 

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