Ben Factor

Ben Factor (1,248)

August 24th, 2011

I discovered a busted key on my electric piano which I play in my show. It was the lowest “B” on the register so I wasn’t that concerned since I never actually hit it. I certainly planned to fix it, but felt no particular hurry—until I arrived at the next date and found that I now had five keys that were jammed up. This was serious and certainly hindered some of my effort. So even though we were on the road and didn’t know anybody in the town where we were staying, it was necessary to find a repairman to fix the problem. After many calls and a plethora of inquiries, we discovered Ben.

Ben was one of those fellows who works at a music store and really wanted to be a rock star, but ended up selling guitar strings to other people who wanted to be rock stars, too. He is a musician and technician mingled, which may be the universal personification of “disgruntled.” So he made it very difficult for us to pin him down to a time when repair would be possible. He told us to call him Monday after eleven o’clock because he had a doctor’s appointment. My business “spider sense” went off—knowing from experience that when someone puts you off to another time slot, you are near to entering oblivion in his mind. So we tracked down another person to work on the piano, which ended up being very successful.

Therefore, when Ben called us late Monday afternoon, we had already satisfied our need. But it was then that we found out that when Ben had his doctor’s appointment, they found some nodules in his lungs that could very possibly be malignant. He was scared. Who wouldn’t be?

It is also at that point that I realized that the reason we had made contact with Ben was not to procure a piano repair or to secure quality workmanship. Our encounter with Ben was due to another factor—Ben needed someone to pray. And because of series of events mingling purpose and chance, we came across his path.

I believe this with all my heart. The more cynical members of our society would call me superstitious or foolish. The more supernaturally charged individuals would get starry-eyed, weepy and mumble something about “the will of God.” I wedge between the two.

I think we find the will of God when we believe that the next thing that happens to us has greater potential than what we originally relegated to it.

In other words, every time we meet someone, greet someone or stumble across his path, there could very likely be a reason beyond the obvious—IF we decide to believe it to be so. For I think the will of God is in three parts: (1) what happens; (2) what I do with it; and (3) how I follow it up.

Because quite honestly, I could hear about Ben’s appointment with the doctor and the findings of the test and simply say, “Poor Ben.” Then, even if God wanted me to pray, nothing would happen. But if we really do contend that what we feel, perform and think matters, then everything becomes significant.

Ben is going to get prayer because my piano was broken, we found him, he went to the doctor and he shared with us. But he mainly is going to get prayer because we decided to make our interaction with him purposeful instead of accidental.

I believe we find much more blessing and inspiration in our lives when we pursue the notion that nothing is insignificant.

Ben did NOT fix our keyboard—but Ben was sent our way because he needed something fixed in his life. If I didn’t believe that—if I chose to live a life of faith that was based upon ritual instead of reality—honestly, dear folks, I would prefer to be a well-intentioned atheist. But because I believe in the Ben factor—in the notion that our steps are ordered and anointed of the Lord—my life is much more exciting and much more charged with possibility.

· Ben did not repair our piano.

· We will never meet Ben.

· But by the grace and style of God, Ben may get repaired himself.

Published in: on August 24, 2011 at 12:01 pm  Leave a Comment  
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A Spate

A Spate (1,247)

August 23rd, 2011

Monday should not look like Tuesday.

This may be the most profound piece of advice I can give. After all, the quality that destroys the human spirit is repetition—causing us to believe that settling down and falling into a pattern is the definitive sign of maturity.

Many of you reading this essay have a job where repetition is not only valued, but extolled as the preferable pattern of behavior. I totally understand this. That’s why it’s important that you take every single fragment of time that belongs to you and use it with selected diversity. Because this is surely a fact: Evil has one goal—to impede creativity.

Once creativity is stalled in human expression, we pretty much perform all necessary atrocities on ourselves—those which lead to our own boredom and eventually our relative decimation. If I were in charge of evil (which, by the way, I’m not) I would campaign for normalcy and encourage people to be as calm and settled as possible. For that amount of repression in and of itself causes human beings to feel deprived, which eventually lends itself to some form of depravity. Yes—if you feel deprived, you eventually will end up depraved.

That’s why it’s important to look at life in spates—chunky moments that we focus our dreams and aspirations upon, creating a climate of our own fancifulness. Without this, we get on the treadmill which immediately informs us that we’re going nowhere or just to a very-well-assigned destination. Yes, a treadmill is exhaustion—with no change of scenery.

True satisfaction is about grabbing spates of time.

Monday should not look like Tuesday. Otherwise, Wednesday will resemble Thursday and then Xerox a depressing Friday, hatching a Saturday when we lament how short our weekend is, culminating in a Sunday, where we feel guilty for not going to church or wonder if we should have gone fishing instead of hymn-singing, depositing us back on Monday—scurrying once again on the hamster wheel.

Here are three suggestions from this humble traveler:

1. Give your days a name and a purpose. In other words, Monday becomes “my workout day.” Tuesday is when I pull out my old writings and work on a journal. Wednesday is email day—to contact old friends on a weekly basis, and so forth and so on. You will never smother creativity if you give her air—and creativity is granted breath by being granted the opportunity to do something different every single, fresh day.

2. Don’t misdiagnose boredom. Boredom is a sign from your spirit and emotions that you are ignoring the better parts of yourself. Don’t slap yourself and pretend you should fake interest in something when you don’t actually have any intrigue. Allow yourself the luxury of being invested in what you do. This is why it’s sometimes necessary to say no. Some of the best times in my life are when people have insisted that we “should all go out and do something” and I have remained behind, to spend quality time with my own creative being.

3. Never criticize—exhort. When we start comparing our lives to other people’s—especially favorably—self-righteousness enters our existence, causing us to believe that whatever we do is enough instead of challenging our horizons to pursue more, be more, believe more and share more. There are only two people I compare my life to at any given time. First, my own best, and secondly, Jesus. If my present actions do not measure up to my best, I laugh at my own inadequacy and challenge myself to pursue a better angle. And if I feel good about my best, I then compare it to the lifestyle, intensity, intelligence and integrity of Jesus. That’s usually sufficient to keep me busy. It is not enough for me to supersede the efforts of Joe Schmoe. Otherwise I will find myself being judgmental of my brother instead of uplifting him and motivating him by the example that I provide.

It’s all about what you do with your spate of time. If you believe that life is supposed to meld into a big clump of cheese, then you will never understand the true milk of human kindness.

Monday should not be like Tuesday. I don’t care where you are in your life or what you’re doing—diversify your efforts to give oxygen to your creativity.

This will give purpose to your spirit, joy to your emotions, ideas to your brain and a spring to your step.

Published in: on August 23, 2011 at 12:32 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Under and Over

Under and Over (1,246)

August 22nd, 2011

A sweet woman—I met her yesterday after my show in New York. She had just returned from a trip to Quebec and also a train excursion through Boston. She was filled with the exhilaration of travel and blessing, only offering one lamentation—a concern that the young people she saw on the train in Boston possessed a melancholy in their countenance that she feared would not fare well for them as they grew older.

She is right. If the light of the body is the eye, then the human race seems to be expelling a visage of darkness. But why? Our society’s children—a generation raised under the false teaching of “self esteem” is now beginning to reap the crop of its blight.

We have taught them to overplay their abilities and underplay their difficulties. We have defined this as confidence-producing while interpreted the espousal of humility as “being weak”—easily manipulated. So as someone stands on a talk show, expounding with great bravado their self-belief, the audience applauds—while simultaneously wondering how much of it is just plain hogwash.

If you want joy in your life, you should learn to underplay your abilities and overplay your weaknesses. It doesn’t affect your self-worth; nor does it deter your determination to do well. It simply places you in the position Jesus describes as “taking the lower seat”—and the purpose for taking the lower seat is not to condemn yourself to a relegated status of failure. No—it is to place yourself a position to be called up because of the quality of your life as opposed to placing yourself in a position you cannot live up to and then being called down for your arrogance.

People are unhappy because they have been taught to be confident and they feel inadequate, but rather than dealing with their lack, they mask it with a verbal onslaught of claims and promises which rarely come to fruition.

There is power in underplaying your abilities but also in confessing your faults. Matter of fact, the Bible says that without the confession of faults to one another we often fail to gain healing. That is a powerful thought.

Let me give you an example. A lady complimented me on my performance yesterday and I told her she was kind. She became a little angry with me and replied, “I’m not kind. It’s just true.” I know she meant well. But I do believe it is kind when someone notices my efforts and deems them to be beneficial. I never found that expecting blessing makes it richer—but I have discovered that living a life of being surprised by goodness does make one feel fuller—possessing a greater sense of abundance.

Our world is sad because we promised to be glad and instead we ended up mad.

I can’t promise you much of anything. Even my talents are sometimes buried under a bushel of dismay or fear. So I will be honest and share my potentials with you more candidly—and at the same time tell you my weaknesses clearly. Bluntly—merely stating my deficiencies does not make me weak; I am only weak when I ignore my shortcomings and make you believe that they will not deter me in any way.

So you have to make up your mind—if you’re going to overplay your abilities and underplay your weaknesses, you’re going to generate a level of expectation which is not only difficult to live up to, but also may leave no room for you to go the second mile and exceed your claims.

On the other hand, if you want true happiness, you should underplay your abilities and overplay your weaknesses. It gives you room to surprise your fellow-man. And after all, everybody loves a surprise.

Published in: on August 22, 2011 at 1:12 pm  Comments (1)  
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$481.22 (1,245)

August 21st, 2011

In high school, I was the president of my junior class. It was a dubious honor bestowed upon me by the local student electorate, confirmed by the teachers and administration, because in all of their minds’ eyes, I was the best to represent my class. I use the word “dubious” because our class was relegated by the adults of our high school as “the losers.” We were what you might call both the “least” and “most” student body. For instance, “the least team spirit.” And “the most visits to the principal’s office.” I think you probably get the drift.

We were in one of our class meetings, which were always a great tug of war between our advisor trying to get us to use parliamentary procedure, and me having a smart-ass comment about parliament being in London. It was late January and we were informed by the powers-that-be that it was the tradition at our BigWalnutHigh School for the junior class to pay for the prom each and every year. We were all a little surprised by this revelation, and immediately turned to our treasurer, who in horror, with a blanched face, informed us that we were $481.22 short of such an endeavor. Now, that might not sound like very much money unless you’re sixteen years old, living in Ohio in 1969—certainly a number more suited to sending a man to the moon.

We all immediately sank into a great pool of despair (since we were the class voted most likely to be depressed and least likely to escape its grip). Our advisor, dear woman that she was, thought the best approach to motivate us would be tough love, which, by the way, had not yet been invented. At that time it was just called “mean.” She explained to us that the entire school would be making fun of us, mocking us and that we would be the first class in the history of BigWalnutHigh School to fail to provide the funds for a prom which most certainly would not be held, most assuredly ushering in the fourth horseman of the apocalypse.

You see, the problem was that our advisor did not understand that unmotivated high school students who are prone to depression are usually not given great energy by being told the reality of a situation. We just sat there, stared at her and began to think of excuses of why we couldn’t afford the prom, picking out our favorite members of the steering committee to blame for the horrific malady.

But strangely enough, at that point, I actually mustered a little bit of backbone and foraged through my soul and found some leadership—because this was not a financial need that was going to be met by the typical bake sale or by tin cans placed around the school for collecting coins. This needed innovation. So I suggested two ideas.

The first one I had read about in the Columbus Dispatch—the story of a school that raised money by having a powder puff football game—a relatively new concept in that era. The premise was that the girls in the school would dress up in football uniforms, choose up teams and play tackle football, much to the delight of the male student body and the citizenry of the community. That was my first idea. Since it was a new one, filled with “big town” sensations, it was immediately met with negativity. I was told that girls couldn’t play football, they would get injured, there would be insurance problems and that the community would object to their fair maidens becoming fullbacks. I explained that the attraction was NOT that the girls would become fullbacks, but that they had full fronts. Our advisor did not think I was very funny. But we voted to do it, and actually survived all the slings and arrows of the local “press beagle,” which tried to hound us out of such a gender-bending idea.

My second idea was to hold a Hoot’ Nanny, an event usually held in places like Greenwich Village, New York—not in small-town Ohio. This was better received, since people were going to be able to get on stage, play their guitars, sing and produce some Kum Ba Yah moments.

So we set both plans in motion, and I personally was put in charge of turning some very testosterone-driven males from our class into cheerleaders for the powder puff football game. I also succeeded in bringing my musical group to perform at the Hoot’ Nanny.

Well, long story short, much to the amazement of the adult world, and even the student body, both events were extraordinarily successful, and by the time we got done trimming out our expenses and counting our money, we had raised $506.33. Our treasurer was quick to tell us that this was more money than we needed.

We had our prom. Matter of fact, I later found out that there had been great subterfuge within the adult teacher-community, and that they had always planned to have a prom, but wanted us to feel guilty and inadequate—adult staples. I had great satisfaction in removing from these bureaucrats the power of both bailing us out and of saying “I told you so.”

When prom rolled around it was a sweet night. We did it. And I learned through that experience that there are always going to be three kinds of people in life—those who are scared, those who don’t care and those who are willing to help if you actually come up with a good idea.

The scared people would even argue with God—that creating the heavens and the earth might generate more problems than it was worth. The apathetic folks feel it’s their job to create a litany of reasons on why activity is unhealthy to the human race. But those remaining handfuls that are willing to help are always enough to get the job done if you’re not scared and you bust through your apathy and you actually hatch a good idea.

It was a tremendous learning experience, because at the end of the day, leadership does not lie in agreeing with all the committees, but rather, in coming up with a great notion … that all the committees can agree upon.

Published in: on August 21, 2011 at 10:38 am  Comments (1)  
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Bewildered (1,244)

August 20th, 2011

· 10

· 14

· 20

· 25

· 33

· 40

· 50

· 65

· 80

· 90

What are these? They’re numbers, of course. And when these numbers are associated with the ages of human beings, we begin to anticipate a drastic difference between 10 and 90. It’s not only 80 years of life, but also eight decades of what we deem to be experience and maturity.

So I am sometimes baffled when I stare into the faces of my audiences and I see the same bewildered expression on the faces of the retired folks that I see on the teenagers. For I will tell you quite bluntly—there is no advantage to getting older whatsoever if you’re not becoming cagey and wiser.

Getting older when you’re still fighting against the realities of life has to be one of the more painful experiences for a human being. At least when you’re sixteen you can say, “When I get away from my parents life will be better.” But when you’re sixty years old, you can’t use that statement anymore. You’ve been away from your parents for a long time, you’ve had a sufficient crack at life and the dissatisfaction that may remain is now of your own doing or at least the by-product of the choices you’ve made.

No wonder I see bewilderment on the countenances of aging Americans. The proclamation is practically written on their foreheads: “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” It contains the immature notion that God only makes a difference when we’re looking for someone to pray to for a miracle or blame for a disaster. The rest of the time we don’t study His planet, His natural order, the shifting of both physical and social winds or the lay of the land. Instead we want to insist that these messages—often literally carved into the stone—should revise themselves to accommodate our personality and needs.

I don’t know what age I was when it happened—in other words, I don’t recall the specific day, time or place. But somewhere along the line, I stopped arguing with life and the natural order and began to try to find God’s ways within the framework. The reason we are so often bewildered by our earth passage is that we are convinced that it “just shouldn’t be the way it is.”

Is anybody else a little bit confused by people who live in Oklahoma and Kansas who still insist on being surprised at tornadoes in the springtime? Isn’t there a reason they call it Tornado Alley? Is God really trying to punish this region, or perhaps should there be greater care given to finding ways to protect the homes and warn more effectively of upcoming turmoil?

I think we carry a childish edge into our adult years that makes us look ridiculous because we’re still looking for magic instead of discerning the message of our times. Here are the three points that changed my life:

1. Nature is not God but God is in nature. And nature is here to tell me how God is working in the physical realm. Candidly, the earth has one of the simplest roadmaps to discovery that has ever been conceived. Very little happens by accident, there are few haphazard events, there is always a warning before a storm and there are always signs of the times. The definition of maturity is the ability to read these signs.

2. God doesn’t have favorites, but God also does not have enemies. Even people who do not believe in God—but who honor His system—receive the benefits from their respect. And those who are very religious who desecrate His creation or disrespect His beloved human experiment find themselves at odds with His system.

3. And finally, reality is in the moment. My destiny lies in how I deal with the reality of the moment and how I choose to input it. You cannot change reality by ignoring it. You cannot walk around pretending that difficulty does not exist and end up conquering mountains. Even the statement of Jesus that “saying to a mountain that it be removed” does require that we not doubt in our hearts—and the heart is the center of the emotions. The only way to get a handle on any emotion in a situation is to cease being in denial of the reality of the moment, deal with the situation and then set in motion a plan to create a new set of circumstances.

Let me give you an example. Every time I walk into a concert in a church I am dealing with years and years of tradition, family obligations and beliefs that people hold dear because of the passage of time. If I am not prepared to recognize these tenets of their faith and preferences of their personalities, I will be in no position to maneuver my way into their hearts and open the door for any fresh possibility. Change does not occur because we rebel against reality. Change occurs when we recognize the reality that exists and begin to deal with it using the tools provided.

It is a terrible thing to reach your seventieth birthday and be as bewildered by life as you were when you were sixteen. It is why there is just as much need for revival amongst the retired folks as there is with the teenagers.

Because until you learn to deal with reality in the moment, you will have no chance of changing history.

Published in: on August 20, 2011 at 2:17 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Benefit of the Faith

Benefit of the Faith (1,243)

August 19th, 2011

I am often wrong. Matter of fact, I am wrong often enough that I find that when I am in an intelligent mode, I need to question everything I think and do. I’m not talking about scouring my conscience—I am not speaking of becoming insecure about my ability to make a decision. I’m just saying that “wrong” has been my constant companion, and because of that I need to make sure that I do not deflect input that comes my way that might benefit me.

That’s right. I need to give people I meet the benefit of the faith. I need to allow human beings to view my life through their less-than-sympathetic eyes and give what may be a much more accurate rendition of my persona than might pop up in my own view-finder. In other words, I’m not always my own best friend.

We have become a nation of opinion whores. We love to hear the sound of our own voices; we are intoxicated by the gears of our mental processes, grinding out the sausage of our philosophy. But we have forgotten that our fallibility makes us susceptible to stubbornness, which causes us to come across as ignorant and often ridiculous.

I am not trying to tell you that I am without means or brain power. It’s just that lots of times the information required for a given situation is absent from my portfolio. If I am unwilling to procure insight, I will move on my own understanding and have limited, if not disastrous, results.

I do not think we can move forward as a people until we become suspicious and even make fun of our own inclination to have opinions on everything. Since we don’t know everything—which most people would admit—chances are we can’t do everything, which fewer people would admit, which means we probably shouldn’t have an opinion on everything, which very few people would agree with in any way.

No, actually my opinion needs to be replaced by the sharing of my experience. Beginning a discussion with “…in my experience…” is much different than starting it out with “…in my opinion.” Because when we have an opinion, we think we have to back it up with the Bible, some moral code, the U.S. Constitution or a book of etiquette. But “my experience” is just that—it’s my experience. And since my experience is growing, it requires information.

I have never seen an opinion that’s looking for anything but allies. I’ve never heard an opinion that is requesting further revelation. Experience, on the other hand, admits that because we’ve already encountered a scenario in our lives, then we just might be prepared to be shown a different path.

Once I establish my experience and communicate that I need more information, I must recognize that information comes from the outside—and generally speaking, that which comes from outside myself dwells in a world called “different.” And “different” is actually the reason that most people have opinions in the first place. They are so frightened of foreign ideas that they close the door to difference—letting everyone know that they’ve already made up their minds.

But experience requires information. And darned tootin’—you’d better know that information always comes from the outside, wherein abides difference. And the reason most people don’t want to deal with “different” is that it demands change. If we are going to live with other human beings, we must relieve ourselves of the need to have opinions and instead merely state our experience, knowing that new information may revise that perspective and that something different will come into our lives, creating change.

It’s called “giving it the benefit of the faith”— because faith is what we hope for. It’s the idea that even though our life is fine, it could be made better by smarter things. To have that kind of hope, we must initiate a lifestyle that pursues the evidence of things we have not yet seen.

A man walked up to me the other night and said, “I’ve seen it all.” Well, let me tell you—I’ve been around the block a time or two myself, but I’m always finding new neighborhoods I missed on the first go-around.

The benefit of the faith—it demands that I get rid of so many opinions and share my experience, knowing that it will be enhanced by better information from a different source that just might request that I change a thing or two.

Published in: on August 19, 2011 at 1:06 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Making Nice

Making Nice (1,242)

August 18th, 2011

When I get up every morning and have the blessing of sharing this jonathots with people all over the world, I feel a great responsibility to try to be positive and certainly edifying. You and I hear too much negativity. Today is jonathots number 1,242. That means that for 1,242 days I have shared my thoughts, heart, silliness, discoveries and journey.

Yes—I feel a great sense of need to be an exhorter—one who tries to find the brighter side of the coin instead of constantly flipping it to produce the darker side. Yet I must tell you that in the pursuit of “making nice,” we must all realize that to actually discover things that are real, lasting, spiritual and emotionally uplifting, we do have to dispel myths and falsehoods that eat away at the foundation of our joy and contentment.

There is not a night that I perform in front of an audience that I’m not thrilled to have such an opportunity. I know it sounds unrealistic, but I am constantly enthralled with the process. Oh, sometimes I get tired and creaky and I’m not particularly excited about carrying in my equipment or doing a sound check, but by the time I get to my green room to sip some water, eat some fruit and change my clothes, I am ready to interact with my fellow-human-beings and give them the little dab that God has granted me.

Candidly, though, I must tell you that the reactions are not always the same. What Jesus said is absolutely true—that “we must be careful when all men speak well of us.” I also must be careful that I do not write down some of my revelations in road travel based upon weariness, or connote to you in any way that some unfavorable response was limited to a particular village or town. It is not so.

Every night when I arrive at a concert, I am universally greeted with apathy. It seems a little perplexing, because these are the people who actually decided to attend, and yet they project the new American ridiculous notion that “there’s nothing new under the sun” and that blessing is really not available. It probably takes the first ten minutes of my show to break through the crustiness of a society that has given up on the notion of being anointed or changed.

You may find that critical. I don’t. I think it’s a living reality that causes our politicians to ignore the masses in favor of their own will. It prompts religionists to believe that mankind is either all-depraved or somehow all-good—yet absent enthusiasm. And it allows corporations to think they can manipulate the surrounding horde to perform whatever function they deem necessary. Some things in life are just wrong.

Fortunately for me, God has given me humor, music, a bit of cleverness and a voice which allows me to address these injustices with a jocular style instead of hell-fire and brimstone. But it doesn’t change the problem. It doesn’t create an atmosphere that is ideal simply because we all want to “make nice.” Here are the five things I know that are presently imbalanced in our society:

1. The cross has no business being tied to politics. When I see a political rally with a cross hanging in the background, I am sickened by the notion that manipulative politicians believe they can use the lifestyle of Jesus to project their temporary solutions, which may or may not have any merit. Go ahead and be political—just get the cross out of it.

2. Gossip is mean. Mean is hurtful. Hurtful destroys humans. Humans are who God loves. Got it? And I’m talking about all renditions of gossip—even those backbiting dialogues that lead off with, “I’m just trying to help…” Free will is God’s will. It hasn’t changed and it won’t because you or I want to rule the moment.

3. Religion is to God what campaigning is to politics—banners, slogans, speeches and rallies instead of the substantial ideas that make life better. Is campaigning necessary? In a democratic society, I guess so. But it doesn’t have anything to do with governing or giving folks a chance to have a better life. Is religion necessary for godliness? I suppose so. But it doesn’t produce “life and it more abundantly.”

4. Overemphasis on our own personal family is a silent attempt to shut out the rest of the world and make them strangers instead of our brothers and sisters. I’m not suggesting we love our families less. I am merely stating what Jesus said—“if you love those who love you, you’re no better than the heathen.” My true challenge in life is not to express love to those who applaud me or buy my books, or those who gather around my Thanksgiving table. My true challenge is to love those who decide to ignore me and move on. Jesus would never have told us to “love our enemies” unless we were going to have some.

5. And finally, life is too short to do anything long. Anybody who begins a discussion by saying, “This is going to take a long time…” or “Good things take a while…” or “Rome wasn’t built in a day…” is just softening me up for defeat. I am convinced that if we cannot address something in a twenty-four hour period and see a little progress, thinking that we’re going to get ten years to achieve the goal is not only presumptuous but also smacks of the sinister.

I realize that some of you may disagree with what I’ve written, and there are even people reading the jonathots who are considering whether to have me into their church or not. They may be afraid that I will arrive and say something untoward. Not so. The five things I stated above are difficulties—but they don’t need to be harped upon by some disgruntled prophet. They just need to be taken into consideration as we find ways to impart the delightful message of joy and love to a world that seems to have lost its capacity for understanding and feeling—dead from the heart up.

I have the most wonderful job in the world. I get to share my life, my dreams and my insights with those “who have an ear to hear.” But I will not lie to you—when they choose to reject my spirit, I can end up being the loneliest man in the room. But I decided a long time ago that it’s better to be lonely, knowing that your heart is in the right place, than dancing at a party that was not of your own making.

Published in: on August 18, 2011 at 12:35 pm  Leave a Comment  
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