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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4043)
Karin was perturbed at herself—“perturbed” being the most civilized word she could come up with after rejecting some more colorful choices.
It seemed she had totally lost perspective. No, that diagnosis was much too clinical. She had just downright screwed up. Plainly, she had let sentiment take over her better judgment.
There was nothing wrong with being sentimental—as long as the work you set out to do gets done, the children are safe in their beds, the fire is lit and all the cows are in the barn. (She had no idea whatsoever why she had chosen such a rural metaphor. She was trying to be completely practical, and nothing seemed more “earthy” than a farm.)
After all the excruciating activity of the day, it turned out that she had not improved the situation whatsoever. Arrogantly, she had tried to solve all the world’s problems. She was aware that this was not her job—her actual job was two-fold: to keep from being a problem to the planet and try to keep all the crazies around her from doing outrageous things.
She considered—if each person with a lick of sense would just try to stay out of trouble and take a few moments to care for friends who couldn’t make things work, well, to quote the old song, “what a lovely world this would be.”
But she had not helped two boys stop their insanity. She had made it worse. After all, before she came on the scene, they were two young dudes out in the desert, chomping on food and giggling. Sure, they had a hand grenade—but they didn’t know how to use it. No, she was the one who provided that information to them. She brought the soldier. She caused the conflict. And she got those two friends spitting mad at each other.
Karin realized that she could work a lifetime and not tally such a disaster again. Yet she had done it in a single afternoon—not to mention losing the respect of her editor.
What perturbed her most of all was that she could not figure out why she had acted so “girlie.” She had been trained better and had certainly learned better. Frankly, she had never bought into the lingo of the day, which claimed that men and women were hopelessly non-communicating misanthropes. If men were from Mars and women were from Venus, why couldn’t they just build spaceships and travel to this good ole’ Earth and live together as humans?
The whole thing was rather ridiculous. But—and a very important “but” it was—she needed to do something. Her soul and conscience refused to stay out of the affair. It was frightening, considering this was how she got into trouble in the first place. Yet Karin Koulyea had a heart to be part of the solution instead of remaining a jagged edge of the problem.
So she pondered—a rather exhausting task after completing such introspection.
Then she remembered what the editor said. He was going to make some calls. Well, she knew how to use a phone. And God knows she would be safer in her apartment contacting people instead of in the desert, threatening to blow up little boys.
She opened up a book she had never used before:
The local Yellow Pages.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(3378)
Sunday morning, bright and early, I headed off with my buddy, Janet, to St. Timothy Lutheran Church in Melbourne (even though the words “bright and early” should never appear in the same sentence.)
Over the years, Ms. Clazzy and I have learned a very important lesson: those who have gathered in a church are not there to see us, no matter how much we’ve been advertised. And they’re not necessarily there to learn about God, either.
They are accustomed to gathering. It is a tradition. Each one has his or her reasons for being there–ranging from preparing the coffee to loving the organ music, to appreciating communion, to getting stuck with usher duty.
So it is ridiculous for the two of us to think that we will come in and move mountains, or even rearrange dirt piles. Our job is simple–and made easier by the kindness of those who assisted us with our equipment and by the tender spirit of Pastor Blaine Johnson.
We are to be grateful for those who’ve attended, encourage what we see that’s positive, and gently address what’s missing.
Without the initial burst of gratitude for what is available, you immediately becomes the eternal brat who is never satisfied unless you get your own way.
Do I wish there were more people at St. Timothy Lutheran Church? I don’t give it a second thought, since there aren’t.
Do I wish I was going to larger churches than St. Timothy Lutheran Church? I don’t give it a second thought, because I’m not.
I am grateful for all the souls before me.
Then there are things that come out which are delightful and positive. There are people who greet you even though they have never seen you before. There is a sense of organization that lends itself to progress instead of chaos. Opportunities.
Yet in the midst of Jan and myself being grateful and reveling in the positives set before us, some missing spaces are obvious. Shall we refer to these as an absence of the presence?
Just quietly ask the question, what’s missing?–and then allow the Spirit of God to offer suggestions.
So while grateful for the congregated and my celebration of the positives, I talked to them about passion–the ability for the heart to stimulate praise instead of relying on the memory.
Did we make progress? Will next Sunday’s service at St. Timothy reflect any of the energy of the visitation?
It’s a foolish question; irrelevant.
Because the good news is that Pastor Blaine and the fine folks of St. Timothy found it in their hearts to invite us to come and share our talents.
And the better news is that God, in His infinite wisdom, leaves it up to each individual soul to determine what he or she will do with what has been seen and heard.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
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Sometimes G-Pop forgets.
He is suddenly overwhelmed by the nasty, cantankerous, mostly-cloudy conclusions, and then drenched in the negativity.
Weathering the storm.
What G-Pop forgets is that there are two worlds: the world around him and the world of his undertaking.
It is so easy to get trapped into believing that significant change can be accomplished by arguing, fussing, preaching or evaluating the lives and actions of eight billion other people.
But we’re all human. We want everything, everywhere, to be just fine. And by “just fine,” we mean “to our liking.”
There is only one world. It is the world where we live and have some sense of contribution.
But to keep on that straight and narrow of wisdom, G-Pop realizes that certain ideas need to be honored on a daily basis:
1. No one is better than anyone else.
Even if you have information to the contrary or discover evidence which contradicts such a noble notion, be intelligent enough to ignore it.
2. Don’t judge anyone, anywhere, at any time.
Even if you feel you have the backing of eternity or a stack of holy books, laugh at your inclination to be superior.
3. Stop thinking big.
It sets your mind to enormous expectation which causes the smaller opportunities to escape your vision. Life is not about a magic wand which causes dreams to appear, but rather, a pile of bricks, which we put in place one at a time.
4. Laugh.
It’s better than crying, and even if weeping comes for a season, be prepared for it to turn into giggling. Taking things seriously only puts you in serious trouble.
5. Don’t stop believing, but don’t rely on it.
Believing has an unrighteous tendency to wait too long before determining to do something. If you want God to know that you believe, start working with what you already have.
You see, sometimes G-Pop forgets these things. The bickering causes him to become cynical, or worse, proud.
When G-Pop lives in his own world, change actually seems possible.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(2317)
English class.
Right before lunch.
Four days before Easter.
Since everyone was giddy, ready for spring break, the teacher intelligently surrendered to the atmosphere, forsook all nouns and verbs, and instead, posed the question: “What are you doing for Easter?”
Everyone joined in enthusiastically with their plans.
“Ham.”
“Church.”
“Family.”
“Trip to New York.”
“Dinner with friends.”
“A cantata.”
And then, out of nowhere, a young girl who was normally pretty quiet and reserved, piped in:
“I’m waiting for the Easter bunny.”
There were a few chuckles, since the majority of the room believed that such a proclamation was impossible to take seriously.
Now, this young girl’s name was Dollie. She was tall, gangly, bespectacled, often escaping into her own thoughts, but dressed very fancy because her family was loaded. She was a fair student, a little silly, and now, suddenly, with a full spotlight on her in an adolescent English class, found herself the sole advocate for the Easter bunny.
The teacher, attempting to get Dollie off the hook by changing the subject, posed an additional question to the entire class: did they like pineapple on their ham, or raisin sauce?
Yet Dollie persisted, oblivious to the social cliff looming in the near distance.
“The Easter bunny lives in a hole in my back yard.”
She nearly sang it. Yet to the classroom, the idea was off-key.
We were all stalled. We glanced around the room at one another in horror and disbelief, when all at once, the most popular cheerleader laughed out loud. Everyone, feeling license to participate, joined in heartily.
Dollie sat, nearly in tears, perturbed and perplexed that everyone had selected an agnostic position concerning the Divine Easter Bunny who slept in her back yard, awaiting the opportunity to bring candy to all the good little boys and girls.
Fortunately, at that point the inquisition was interrupted by the ringing bell announcing lunch period. Everyone leaped to their feet and headed to the door, still giggling and whispering.
Dollie remained in her chair, stung, emotionally bleeding and bewildered that her faith in the Great Rabbit had been marched into the coliseum of public opinion and slaughtered by the lions of ridicule.
I felt compelled to do something–but I was just a kid. So I walked over and patted her on the shoulder and said, “You know, that’s really dumb. There’s no Easter bunny.”
That was the extent of my empathy.
I then walked from the room, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
It wasn’t the last time I would have an encounter with Miss Dollie.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(2177)
When people control your food, water, hygiene, play and sleep, you learn to believe what they say–or spend a lot of time in your room without supper.
On May 8, 1965, I was thirteen years old and still a novice at any form of teenage rebellion. So when the church men decided to go to the mountains of Oklahoma for a meeting of all-male types–three thousand in attendance–to hear nothing but gospel preaching and gospel singing for a whole week, sitting on hard, knotty pine benches with a big knot just beneath my butt crack, I was compelled by those who controlled my supplies, to go.
It ended up being a week of firsts:
The rally was forceful. It was intense. It was a meeting that peaked at times in jubilance. It was full of “god-talk.” It was permeated with self-righteousness.
And it was child abuse.
Because I needed …
Well, I needed tenderness. Instead, they gave me large doses of macho.
I needed an open mind. They worked very hard to seal mine shut.
God, I was desperate to know about girls. They proclaimed that women should “submit.”
Some laughter would have been nice. They reserved giggling for the older men around the campfire after they thought we young’uns were asleep.
And of course, I needed a world view. They provided God’s 40 acres.
After I got home and healed of my poison sumac, I started to think for myself. Yes, in my own simple way, I began to rebel.
I have never stopped.
I am still a warrior against anyone who has constructed a box for God … and wants the sheep to come passively, and worship.
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Please contact Jonathan’s agent, Jackie Barnett, at (615) 481-1474, for information about scheduling SpiriTed in 2014.
click to hear music from Spirited 2014
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| Maxine Mantooth on Scrambles … October 20th… |
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| Maxine Mantooth on Scrambles … October 13th… |
A voice writing in the wilderness
Jonathots Daily Blog 
