PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … August 22nd, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3773)

Caught Up With God

by Jonathan Richard Cring

I caught up with God last night.

It’d been a while

I had been busy with me.

His matters–more universal.

“How ya doin’ with that life I gave you?” He asked, with a twinkle in His eye.

“Livin’ loud and free,” I replied.

“Oh, my. Sounds bold,” He countered.

“Let there be light, bolder still,” I returned.

He smiled.

I loved His smile. Always warm and left me enlightened.

He looked tired, but not aging–the kind of weary you might see in a friend when you suggest a nap instead of another cup of coffee.

I searched for words.

I suddenly realized why the visits between us were less frequent.

There was a great mutual appreciation, with not much common interest.

“I thought we could catch up,” He suggested.

“Good.” I nodded but remained silent.

I don’t know why He makes me nervous.

There has been no vexation between us. No major disagreement.

There are many things I like, which I hear He thinks are sins.

And the thoughts that cross my head seem unworthy to share with such a pure soul.

Yet venturing for a night that would be memorable for its difference, I said, “Sometimes I stay away from You when I don’t need to.”

I looked deeply into His eyes to see if I had hurt His feelings.

That was not my intention, but certainly could have been the conclusion.

He maintained a stare, as if waiting for more explanation. So I decided to push on.

“Sometimes I just don’t believe in You. Sometimes I feel foolish thinking that the apparition I’ve created of your presence has any truthfulness. Or for that matter, value. Sometimes I grow weary of my own mythology.”

I stopped speaking.

Only half of what I shared was honest. Like many words spoken in a spat, the majority are stirred to hurt instead of reveal.

But why did I want to hurt God?

Why did I want Him to know that I didn’t need Him?

Why was I taking this moment of reunion and turning it into a cup of poison?

Then…

God just walked over and quietly sat down in a chair.

Though He did not motion for me to join Him, the energy compelled me to find a nearby seat of my own.

The two of us, seated.

Old friends?

Or just strangers who finally realized the extent of the disconnection?

He spoke. “What would you think or feel if I said I don’t always believe in you?”

“I would be horrified,” I responded. “Even if I have made you up in my ego, I need you to be supportive. I need you to be my permanent cheerleader. I need you to give me unconditional love.”

“And what do I get for this gift?” He asked, tilting His head and squinting His eyes.

I didn’t pause for a moment. I answered immediately–almost impetuously.

“My guaranteed doubt.”

The Most High laughed.

“Quite a good deal,” He said, rubbing His chin. “Perhaps I should jump on it right away, in case you change your mind.”

I excused myself and went into the bathroom.

I sat in my stall, realizing that I was manufacturing an event in my head that was probably more spirits-in-a-bottle than Spirit-in-my-life.

Suddenly, there He was. In the stall with me, leaning against the wall.

“Stalk’er much?” I asked.

“It’s not really stalking,” He noted. “I thought we were still having a conversation, and just changing locations.”

“It’s a perfect example,” I interjected. “I am a person. I value my privacy. There are times I don’t like to be chased by a spirit or a theology or reminded of my inadequacies by a black book with a lousy cover.”

God burst into laughter.

“How true! For them to claim it’s the Word of God, and not even have great cover art… So much like those who only believe so they can hold it against those who don’t.”

“Would you turn your head?” I demanded. “I would like to finish here.”

Before I could complete my phrase He was gone.

I wondered if it would be another season of absence, or if I would find Him sitting in the chair when I left the restroom.

I stood in front of the mirror and splashed some water on my face.

I realized I was not ugly. Maybe just a little facially displaced.

I smiled, thinking how I wanted to share that with Him. How much He would enjoy it.

We always could make each other laugh. That’s for sure.

It’s just that sometimes, He doesn’t know how to stop my tears.

Feeling I was “stalling,” and then thinking that I must share that pun with Him also, I opened the door and stepped out.

He was gone.

There was this amazing smell in the air.

What was it?

Garlic, tomato and just a hint of oregano.

Of course.

All the ingredients of Chicago deep-dish pizza.

I breathed in deeply.

I shook my head.

He knew it was my favorite.

Our guest reader is Isabella, who is a student at Florida State University.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … August 15th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3766)

Yet, in the Middle

by Jonathan Richard Cring

The world has tribulation

On this we can agree

A fretful habitation

Is thrust on you and me

 

So faith begins

To sprout some fear

And nagging sins

Rob us of cheer

 

“Love one another”

The Master’s request

Our sister and brother

We fail at our best

 

The sea is raging

The wind continues to blow

Hampered by aging

Not certain where to go

 

And “peace be still”

The Carpenter’s command

Has lost some will

With our feeble demand

 

Yet in the middle

Of the festering crazy

There is always a little

If I’m not too lazy

 

Just a piece

Of Jesus to be

A joyous release

Of him and me

 

A chance to remember

A promise of December

Unto us a child is given

The answer to Earth from heaven

 

So be not afraid

My precious friend

All things God has made

He’s with us ’til the end.

Today’s guest reader is Thomas, from Georgia. Thomas is a writer and blogger in his own right.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … August 8th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3759)

Lunchtime

by Jonathan Richard Cring

If Jesus took me to lunch

What would we talk about?

As we sat down there to munch

Would I share my inner doubt?

 

For as much as I appreciate

The forgiveness of my sin

What would be truly great

Is learning how to win

 

I desire to have a lovely soul

Sparkling so sublime

But must the years take their toll?

A wrinkle in my time

 

I want to possess a mother’s voice

Tender, reassuring and kind

But also make a divine choice

In the lover and friend I find

 

The anthems that I raise

As I sing my songs of praise

Always make me smile

But only last a while

 

As Jesus and me break the bread

Will I allow him inside my head?

 

For man does not live by bread alone

And woman is much the same

Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone

To share a common name

 

So pass the salt, my dear Lord

There’s no one quite like you

For I refuse to become bored

Never aging, always new

Our guest reader is Lisa, a singer/songwriter living in South Florida with her two children

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … August 1st, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3752)

Come, My Children

by Jonathan Richard Cring

Come, my children, let us greet

The rumble we hear on the street

Tear down the walls of religious tradition

Take a look at the human condition

Bring the drum, start the beat

 

Then let us dance to the sound

Of understanding spreading around

Love your neighbor is the scheme

Living out Brother Martin’s dream

May the blast of brass abound

 

Jimi arrives with his lick

Jesus comes and heals the sick

Love blends jazz to soul

A song celebration is our goal

 

Who am I in this holy jam?

An honest heart

I am what I am

In a climate of physical fitness

Can I get a spiritual witness?

 

Ease on down in the Muddy Waters

Bring your sisters and your daughters

‘Tis the season for the news

Race escapes into the blues

 

Gospel created the rhythm and rock

Join the festival on our block

Hometown boy is back today

His hair sporting a streak of gray

The shepherd seeking a groovy flock

 

So count your measures and blessings, too

The joyful noise is coming to you

 

This week’s reader is James, who lives in Shreveport, Louisiana, and shares his music, labor, love and ministry to everyone he meets.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … July 25th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3745)

The Process

by Jonathan Richard Cring

Ineffective

Stalled

Broken

Evaluated

Rejected

Offered

Refused

Presented

Snubbed

Condemned

Abandoned

Worthless

Available

Comical

Revisit

Curious

Concerned

Careful

Courageous

Cleanse

Scrape

Repair

Replace

Restructure

Reinvent

Renewal

Reveal

Tepid

Uncaring

Critical

Short-sighted

Persevere

Time

Chance

Music

Dance

Notice

Appreciation

Praise

Admired

Mine

Our guest reader this week is Janet, who lives in Florida with her family, and is a master musician.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … July 18th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3737)

Found Her Space

by Jonathan Richard Cring

Hustling along the common square

Delirious with hope, yet barely aware

Something living, growing inside

Closing her mind, let it abide

Living in the moment seems safe and sane

Worrying of ‘morrows, what will she obtain?

Did she like her? Did they agree?

For all to see, how can it be

That happiness can end this careless tale

Fools are found to always fail

Just give her a chance to make a scheme

Perhaps a door to allow for her dream

To be what she wanted–no common fool

Find her place in the school

Two, three, four o’clock

One more time around the block

Raincoat sniffs of old worn tires

Almost forgot, then the memory fires

Walking in the open door

There’s the boy–nothing more

No place to go and find retreat

Time and truth finally meet

So girl became a mother

And mother birthed brother

Jarring moment in reality

Mercifully immersed in vitality

Though the freshman lost her place

The lady found her space

Our guest reader is Elizabeth, who lives in Florida with her husband and family

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … July 11th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3730)

Every Winner

by Jonathan Richard Cring

Don’t look for me down the road just yet

I’m reveling in this particular spot

Don’t insist my feet need to be more wet

I’m really learning a lot

The race you run is exhausting to me

I like to stop–enjoy what I see

So speed on, dear friend, just let me be

I’m enjoying the power of free

I really lost my single soul

Trying to be the “Best in Show”

Teaching the old dog takes its toll

Yes, the bite is worse than the bark

I’m not a philosopher, nor a king

Not a possessor of all that’s wise

I want to wear simple shoes

And avoid the nasty lies

My feelings were raw and full of hurt

Frightened to make a start

So give me time to sense again

And open up my heart

God means nothing if I feel small

So I relax, peaceful, awaiting my call

There is no hurry, there is no worry

No need to toil and spin

Slow down the race and find my place

Perhaps I still can win

For today has come to keep me busy

Making my logical case

For every winner is still a sinner

Pursuing amazing grace

Today’s reader is Jerrod, who lives in Florida and works as an executive technician at 3G Productions, residing with his wife and two daughters

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