Jonathots Daily Blog
(2384)
A return to sacrifice.
People were once again trying to establish their piety by what they gave up, abandoned, diminished or rationed.
For twenty-five generations, the Earth was encompassed by a spirit of religion which ended up welcoming greed and violence to maintain the bondage to practice rather than purpose.
People who sacrifice always produce one fruit: pride.
It is the duplication of the spirit of the Pharisees, who ended up killing off the new idea because it wasn’t approved by committee.
Human beings were never meant to sacrifice. They become both angry and self-righteous.
Even though I desired to be their Father and was merely requesting an attitude of obedience to the natural order and spiritual law, all I was offered was ritual and regulation.
What I learned through this era, dubbed the Dark Ages, was that even obedience is less than effective because it makes people terrified of non-compliance.
I created man in my image, and woman also–but my image is not one of sacrifice. My image is not even obedience. I blow like the wind at my Spirit’s whim.
My image is creativity.
And of course, it is impossible to be creative when sacrificing, because the fear of stepping over the line or being too expansive intimidates the trembling adherent.
And those who are obedient do well at following instruction but find it difficult to explode with a fresh anointing born of joy or agony.
So after the twenty-five generations passed, a rebellious sort emerged from the masses, expelling the rigors of religion and the constraints of obedience.
They were a carnal sort. They were subject to their appetites more than to a hungering and thirsting for righteousness.
They were carnal, but they were creative. The Renaissance bloomed.
It was at that point that I had to make a choice. Did I want to be a Father, remembered by dusty, ancient scrolls written by patriarchs, or did I want to be a laborer in creativity, blessing the world with innovation?
Should I continue to hide out in huge cathedrals with those who were afraid of monsters, dragons and demons, or should I align myself with the more ornery and less orderly fellows?
I thought it best to encourage creativity.
I turned my back on papal wishes and stood and applauded the painter of a ceiling who believed he had captured the image of God.
I ignored decrees from conclaves of cardinals to peek over the shoulder of the soul painting the Last Supper.
I aligned myself with new wine, knowing that the old wine was good for nothing but idle conversation.
Carnal creativity.
I just believed it was more possible for a man or woman who had just made something beautiful to accidentally discover my Spirit than to believe that some dried-out, bitter, priestly shell, poring over a manuscript, could capture the essence of my Spirit.
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