More Angels… April 6, 2013

(1,843)

Mattie loved me. I loved her, too.

It really was not a romantic thing, although if it was confirmed that we were marooned on a desert island, after three or four days of restraint, we certainly would have done our part to repopulate our new earth.

I really liked her voice. She had one of those folksy, husky alto tones, with a bit of available soprano-melodia. I used to love to sit in a room with her and listen to her share one of her original songs as I sipped tea and crunched on some Trisquits. That was really her best atmosphere. The sound she had selected for her style was not conducive to the recording studio or public arenas. It was simple and intimate. So Nashville producers were not busting down her door to procure the rights to her material.

Therefore, it was really sweet of her to be so supportive of me and my group when we did get signed. Matter of fact, on the day of our session, she showed up at the studio with Rice Krispie treats for everybody, which we gobbled down quickly (even though it did cross my mind that they could be poisoned).

Most of the time she was the brave little warrior, but one day I walked in and found her sitting in a puddle of her own tears.

“What’s wrong, Mattie?” I asked, moving to her side and putting an arm around her.

“I suck,” she replied, releasing a fresh gusher.

I sat for a moment, thinking about what the correct response or encouragement should be to such a proclamation. Merely saying “you don’t suck” seemed insufficient.

“What happened?” I inquired.

She handed over a piece of paper containing her latest rejection from a publishing house in Music City. Not only had they spurned her tunes, but had also misspelled her name. It was rather depressing.

She continued. “I’m ready to give up. I’m no good and will never be any good.”

Once again, as you can see, she didn’t leave me a lot of room to leap in.

“You know what the problem is?” I asked.

She paused, and then said, “Yes. I suck.”

“No,” I replied. “You don’t suck. You just feel like you suck because you’ve forgotten that you have more angels than demons.”

She crinkled her brow at me as she often did when I offered some piece of wisdom that she found to be too heavenly and not very practical. I quickly continued.

“All of us, Mattie, have more angels than demons. It just feels like we’ve got more of the bad guys because we chase the angels away. We don’t do it on purpose, it’s just that angels are more mannerly and less pushy than demons, and if we get in a mood to be negative, we scurry them out of our lives and they stay away until we invite them back in. Meanwhile the demons remain because they have no sense of fair play, and sit around laughing at us–moving the box of Kleenex so we can’t even comfort ourselves.”

She sat for a moment, then asked, “How did I chase the angels away?”

“The same way we all do. When we become convinced that what we have is not enough and we insult ourselves so strongly and meanly that the angels scatter.”

“How do I get ’em back?” she inquired.

I didn’t answer at first. Sometimes I think there’s a danger in being too wordy or overly spiritual with someone who’s hurting. Because I gave that space of time, she answered her own question.

‘”I guess the angels would feel more like returning if I stopped feeling sorry for myself.”

“That’s good,” I said.

She did. Matter of fact, she doubled her efforts, and three weeks later signed a contract with a national adoption agency, which used one of her songs to promote placing unwanted children into new families.

Mattie never became a star, but I know there may be people reading this who were welcomed into a new home because of her efforts.

Everybody has more angels than demons. Everybody chases the angels away from time to time and forgets how to welcome them back home. The key to life is avoiding the temptation to destroy your demons. Instead, outnumber them with your angels.

Good news–we have more angels than demons.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Boy and Dad… October 5, 2012

(1,659)

Live from October 1st filming

He was a musician. I’m not talking about one of those prissy choral directors who sit around shuffling papers and complaining about off-pitch altos. He was a songwriter who loved to rock out and was willing to dance to the beat of exhilarating music.

He was passionate. But you must understand that passion is not a barn where you store up good notions to use on intelligent occasions. Passion is a wide-open plain filled with thorns, thistles, cacti, poisonous snakes, adventure and mountains. Passion refuses to be restricted by either temperance or the rules of the day.

So even though he was a man of God, he was also a man of the flesh. He loved women. He loved to be enthralled and overtaken by circumstance.

He loved the fight. Yes, he was a warrior–a gentle, romantic barbarian. He viewed the world in black and white and saw enemies instead of potential allies. He embraced those who embraced him and fought off those who rejected the simplicity of his common sense.

At one time in his youth, he trusted, only to be chased down by his mentor and relegated to the status of a slave. He rebelled against control but often found himself in authority over those who were less likely to achieve success than he was.

His mouth was filled with praise but his heart was filled with rage. He spent his whole life trying to balance the two forces, allowing repentance to be the buffer–a healing balm.

He had children, but did not know how to father them, and when he did parent them, he was either too gentle or too confused. You see, he possessed the nature of a lion, the energy of a king and the attributes of a rabble-rouser. In the midst of his marriage, he was tempted by a woman so beautiful, so significant and so needful that he acquired her and killed for her.

Through their union a son was born. The angry musician who loved God but did not understand earth wanted better for his offspring. So he taught the boy to learn instead of fight. He instructed him in poetry and prose instead of swords and spears. He asked the young lad to believe in the power of conversation instead of the marching of troops. He tried to instill passion into his son, but a bridled version, which was not subject to mere whim or appetite.

The father died. It was the son’s turn to rule.

The young man only asked for one thing: wisdom.

He wanted to understand instead of being constantly frustrated by what he beheld. He was given wisdom, and with wisdom, to his surprise, came all the other blessings and gifts of earthly treasure.

He was healthy, he was wealthy and he was wise.

Yet with all his wisdom, he failed to acquire true relationship with the God who had granted him this perception, so even though he rejected the notorious fierceness of his father, he still saw the futility of human effort and obtained his own form of resentment. He became a cynic.

His wisdom changed into mere knowledge, and knowledge, when left to itself, produces a madness in the soul–an insanity without remedy. It makes us believe that there is “nothing new under the sun.”

But because he possessed wisdom, he survived his temporary bout with doubt and in the end, came out believing.

Two men–father and son.

A father who was engorged in human emotion and blemished by error, who loved life and God with all of his heart.

A son who sought wisdom, found knowledge, but for a season was trapped in his own cynicism–until the possibility of hope sprang eternally in the depths of his being.

The father was David. The son was Solomon.

Every man needs to understand that he will pass on to his son both his virtue and his failings. If the son gains wisdom through the father’s failings, then in the end, the message will survive and see a better day. But the son must remember not to lose the virtue of the father’s passion, or a sarcastic spirit will torment his soul.

Boy and dad. The miracle of life continues–hopefully progressing with passion and wisdom towards greater understanding.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Boy and Dad… October 5, 2012

(1,659)

Live from October 1st filming

He was a musician. I’m not talking about one of those prissy choral directors who sit around shuffling papers and complaining about off-pitch altos. He was a songwriter who loved to rock out and was willing to dance to the beat of exhilarating music.

He was passionate. But you must understand that passion is not a barn where you store up good notions to use on intelligent occasions. Passion is a wide-open plain filled with thorns, thistles, cacti, poisonous snakes, adventure and mountains. Passion refuses to be restricted by either temperance or the rules of the day.

So even though he was a man of God, he was also a man of the flesh. He loved women. He loved to be enthralled and overtaken by circumstance.

He loved the fight. Yes, he was a warrior–a gentle, romantic barbarian. He viewed the world in black and white and saw enemies instead of potential allies. He embraced those who embraced him and fought off those who rejected the simplicity of his common sense.

At one time in his youth, he trusted, only to be chased down by his mentor and relegated to the status of a slave. He rebelled against control but often found himself in authority over those who were less likely to achieve success than he was.

His mouth was filled with praise but his heart was filled with rage. He spent his whole life trying to balance the two forces, allowing repentance to be the buffer–a healing balm.

He had children, but did not know how to father them, and when he did parent them, he was either too gentle or too confused. You see, he possessed the nature of a lion, the energy of a king and the attributes of a rabble-rouser. In the midst of his marriage, he was tempted by a woman so beautiful, so significant and so needful that he acquired her and killed for her.

Through their union a son was born. The angry musician who loved God but did not understand earth wanted better for his offspring. So he taught the boy to learn instead of fight. He instructed him in poetry and prose instead of swords and spears. He asked the young lad to believe in the power of conversation instead of the marching of troops. He tried to instill passion into his son, but a bridled version, which was not subject to mere whim or appetite.

The father died. It was the son’s turn to rule.

The young man only asked for one thing: wisdom.

He wanted to understand instead of being constantly frustrated by what he beheld. He was given wisdom, and with wisdom, to his surprise, came all the other blessings and gifts of earthly treasure.

He was healthy, he was wealthy and he was wise.

Yet with all his wisdom, he failed to acquire true relationship with the God who had granted him this perception, so even though he rejected the notorious fierceness of his father, he still saw the futility of human effort and obtained his own form of resentment. He became a cynic.

His wisdom changed into mere knowledge, and knowledge, when left to itself, produces a madness in the soul–an insanity without remedy. It makes us believe that there is “nothing new under the sun.”

But because he possessed wisdom, he survived his temporary bout with doubt and in the end, came out believing.

Two men–father and son.

A father who was engorged in human emotion and blemished by error, who loved life and God with all of his heart.

A son who sought wisdom, found knowledge, but for a season was trapped in his own cynicism–until the possibility of hope sprang eternally in the depths of his being.

The father was David.

The son was Solomon.

Every man needs to understand that he will pass on to his son both his virtue and his failings. If the son gains wisdom through the father’s failings, then in the end, the message will survive and see a better day. But the son must remember not to lose the virtue of the father’s passion, or a sarcastic spirit will torment his soul.

Boy and dad.

The miracle of life continues–hopefully progressing with passion and wisdom towards greater understanding.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity