Salient…July 9th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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There are matters that are too important to ignore or leave to chance. These are salient moments.

Strolling down any thoroughfare in 1975, it was highly unlikely that you would see a person dressed in a military uniform unless it was an aging hippie who was donning the garments to protest the whole concept of war.

Soldiering just wasn’t popular. It was not contemptuous, but it was contentious.

In other words, it created so much conflict because of the Vietnam War that people tried to avoid any discussion about army men, marines or sailors.

This continued for many years. Matter of fact, may I say that for most of you reading this, if you encountered a guidance counselor in high school, you were offered many choices on college, technical institutions and even mechanic schools. Then, at the tail end of such a conversation, you might have been given the option of military service.

A last resort.

“He is so screwed up he needs to go into the army.”

“Maybe the marines will straighten him out.”

The military was never considered a fast track to success and was often riddled with guys–and maybe even a gal or two–who “just never found themselves.”

It was a volunteer army for those who volunteered because volunteering for anything else seemed pointless.

These are hard, cold, historical facts, and have nothing to do with the sentiments of this author or even the lasting emotions of the American people. It was just felt that being grateful to a warrior seemed to be promoting the war.

Then there was a change–a needful one.

At first, it was politicians who wanted to pander to their more conservative base.

Then it was ministers in churches, welcoming the fighting men home to their families and friends.

Gradually, a phrase emerged from the lips of the American populace: “Support the troops.”

Then it evolved from this generic form, it has become: “We want to thank you for your service.”

It doesn’t make any difference if it’s President Trump, a game show host, a first grade class or Bernie Sanders–it is now universally executed. Whenever a person in uniform is standing before us, we must pipe up with, “Thank you for your service.”

We have learned to do it. Sometimes it doesn’t even sound sincere. It doesn’t matter. It is the respectful piece of etiquette, which has been inserted into our common, everyday lingo, to express a positive position.

So why can’t we do the same thing over race? Why can’t we start looking at the color of people’s skin, and honor them for surviving their struggles, battles and the ups and downs in being American citizens?

It might take a while–but perhaps we could start off by making eye contact with someone of a different race, and tenderly, through that gaze, communicate that we understand that their journey is more difficult than ours.

After all, we don’t give a nod to the troops because they’re changing light bulbs in the kitchen. That’s what we do. We give appreciation to them because they do and have done what we can’t or won’t do.

They serve. They survive. They use their intellect to protect our freedom.

Why can’t we do this with the black man?

“I want to thank your ancestors for their service to America, even though it has gone unnoticed and unheralded.”

To the Hispanic population:

“Thank you for your industrious nature, which continues to work despite all the criticism you receive.”

To the Native Americans:

“Thank you for allowing us to live on this land which was originally yours–and even though we stole it, you stopped fighting and decided to coexist with us.”

And to those from Asia:

“Thank you for coming to this country and bringing your energy, heart and family values, which we have incorporated into our own lifestyle.”

So here is your salient moment:

Support the troops. Yes, let us rally around those who are prepared to fight for our country.

But perhaps we could take the next two decades, applying the same principle we did to bring necessary respect to the armed services, to learn, once and for all, how to support the groups.

 

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Ask Jonathots… August 18th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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What does Jesus mean when he says “Let the dead bury the dead?”

Jesus was neither extremely religious nor just a “lovey-dovey hippie.” Any extensive study on the life of the Nazarene will bring out two strong impressions:

1. He believed human beings had great, untapped capacity

2. He also believed human beings were capable of being judgmental jerks.

So when you consider Jesus’ words as recorded in the Gospels, apply these two principles. He is always trying to get us to tap our greater humanity by learning to deny our selfishness.

One day he meets a fellow who really wants to be a follower, but uses the excuse of burying his father to delay his decision.

Jesus responds, “Let the dead bury the dead.”

This is not a disregard for giving honor to a family member, but rather, a realization that missing the moment of our greatest conviction normally means that we never get back to what we originally set out to do.

A crossroads of contrition: where we focus on what we really want to be and what we really want to accomplish.

This person had decided he wanted to follow Jesus. Jesus’ point was simple: You will never, ever feel this energized again.

Find a different way to give tribute to your father, but truly show your respect to him by pursuing your heart.

Nothing should stand in the way of an inclination to make our lives better. Too often we use family responsibilities, such as weddings and funerals, as a way of excusing ourselves from chasing our dreams.

Give your tribute to the dead some other way than showing up to the funeral.

Share the responsibility with another family member.

But don’t miss your day in the sun … when the warmth is on your skin and it’s clear what you need to do.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … June 29th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Patchwork

Oh say, can you see

My country ’tis of thee

Come on, give peace a chance

Disco, tango, square dance

Black, white, red, yellow

Hostile, hippie, hyper, mellow

And the rocket’s red glare

Yet please don’t stop and stare

Brown, tan, beige or pink

Freedom to share what you think

I pledge allegiance to the flag

Redneck, negro, chick or fag

Check your gun with the attendant

So to honor the Second Amendment

All men are created equal

Say it again, we need the sequel

To the oceans, white with foam

Where the deer and antelope freely roam

Go to war, stop the war

Open the gates, slam the door

We don’t care where you piss

Just be kind and never miss

North, south, east and west

Take your pick, which one’s the best?

Yankee Doodle, make your strudel

Uncle Sam, carve the ham

MLK, what do you say?

Crazy Horse, with no remorse

Buy a slave, all the rave

All men free–better, you see

America is a melting pot

So humbly bring what you’ve got.

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Jesonian: Reasonable (Part 11) Peaceful … February 14th, 2016

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Love is a committed affection.

War is a committed aggression.

Peaceful is a committed listening.

As you can see, every aspect of human behavior, whether it yields goodness or pain, does demand some level of commitment.

So those who think peacemakers are weak fail to realize the courage it takes to listen to tons of foolishness to find one idea that is worthy of discussion and diplomacy.

Those who contend that a war can begin or end without the destruction of the dreams of many hopeful souls are foolhardy.

And souls believing that love is complete by pursuing commitment or satisfied merely by producing affection often find themselves more often than not falling out of love instead of into it.

It is reasonable to be loving.

War is when we cease to be reasonable and start searching for dominant weapons.

But what does it mean to be peaceful? Or how would we even know that we’re seeking for peace instead of just building up a case for our war effort?

The steps to “peaceful” are very simple, but essential:

1. No one to attack.

As long as we believe that our system of values has to be defended, we might fall victim to being overly sensitive, desiring someone to attack. Actually, everything I believe will continue to be true, whether I defend it or not.

My compulsion to defend is an admission of my insecurity over the quality of what I believe. To be peaceful, you must have an abiding sense that there is no one to attack.

2. Nothing to prove.

I am often astounded at how little confidence we have in the truth to make freedom, and love to find a way.

Believing in truth and love is not a hippie philosophy, but rather, the only hip way to avoid struggling to prove our point when our point, if it has value, has a natural mission to prove itself.

3. Nowhere I’d rather be.

Is it possible that much of the warring that goes on in our species is because we are jealous, and have convinced ourselves that someone has something that we must possess–otherwise, we will feel diminished?

There is no place I’d rather be. That sensation gives me a warm blanket of feeling peaceful.

Contentment is when we are sure that the place we have landed is our next station of learning.

War is when we convince ourselves that something needs to be attacked to prove our point, because our status and power must be supreme.

It is the reasonable mission of those who are guided by spirit to be peaceful.

Stop attacking.

Stop trying to prove a point.

And start enjoying where you find yourself blooming.

 

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Untotaled: Sitting 62 (October 19th, 1970) Abort the Mission… April 11, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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(Transcript)

Ohio was just the way we left it less than a month before.

We were married. Yet folks seemed more concerned about the “whys” than the “wherefores.” They believed we were too young to be Mr. and Mrs. Some of my friends were jokingly betting on how long it would last.

One thing was for sure, we were too chicken to tell anyone about the baby. If they were upset about us being together, what would they think if they knew we had “conceived in sin?”

My wife, Dollie, was beginning to show, but some fashionable, hippie, loose-fitting hemp blouses–popular at the time–helped disguise the bump, so nobody could be sure.

But we were facing a deadline.

There was only one state in the Union that allowed for abortion. It was New York. And that was contingent on the abortion being performed before the conception had gone to six months. We were right on the cusp.

So one day–for all the day–we talked to each other privately and incessantly about how it might be better going forward if there were no baby.

In many ways we had come together because of a pregnancy which we now were trying to terminate so as to be respectable again. I don’t know who was in favor of what–I think both of us just wanted to stop being considered the weirdos, and become the favored son and daughter again.

Before we left Kentucky, a lady gave us a little bit of money, so we hopped into our beat-up Chevy and drove to Buffalo, New York, to get rid of our kid.

It was a long drive. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I’m sure it wasn’t all grim and ugly. We were convinced of the beauty and intelligence of our mission.

We got an appointment at a clinic, and in no time at all, found ourselves sitting in front of a female doctor in her early 40’s, with a heavy German accent.

She was kind. She knew we were scared.

She listened to our story, which was chock-full of some lies, and after we got done pouring out our hearts, she said, in broken English, “I will abort your baby. If that is what you want, that is what I will do. But your wife must be tired from the journey, so why don’t you take today, go off and be together, and come in tomorrow, and we will do the procedure?”

Then she said something strange. She said, “May I suggest that you go see Niagara Falls? It’s only about 25 miles away.”

We agreed. It sounded like fun. Fun was something we did well.

So we drove up to the Falls and found ourselves standing and staring at one of the most magnificent natural phenomenon on this planet.

It was so big. It was so powerful.

We both started to cry.

I don’t know why we cried, but I know that without saying a word to each other or confirming our decision, we got back into our car, and instead of driving to Buffalo, to the clinic, we drove back to Ohio.

I guess we thought that if God can take mere water and turn it into Niagara Falls, He certainly is able to take our mess and change it into a blessing.

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The Ashford Reality… April 1, 2013

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Once again, I cheated my alarm clock out of the privilege of awakening me. Ever since I was in my early twenties, I have always been able to think about the time I wanted to arise right before dozing off, and literally like clockwork, wake up  near the exact hour. I doubt this gift, so I always set an alarm clock, which usually ends up going off when I’m in the bathroom, unable to reach it.

Thus I began my day early.

I am taking a road trip today back over to Houston, Texas, to share tonight in Ashford. After all these years–nearly forty–I am still an excited little boy at the prospect of journeying somewhere to share my talents to fine human souls. Over the years, pieces of my ego have been trimmed and discarded, and lessons have been learned about better approaches to achieve more satisfying results–but the enthusiasm remains.

I guess I’m kind of an odd bird. I have never been comfortable being a miserable anything. When I hear my fellow-believers talk about the pain and suffering of Christianity, I am bewildered. My understanding of the message is one of abundant life, in which our joy is full and we are given the responsibility of being the salt of the earth and the light of the world, as God’s grace affords us the opportunity of being a city placed on a hill.

So it was in that spirit that I set my goals for my journey to Ashford.

First of all, I just want to tell those delightful friends, “I love you.” It’s not that I want to be mushy or silly–rather, life is about finding a reason to love others. If we don’t, we start acting like we are abandoned on a desert island called earth, and our entire mission is to hoard coconuts, because there is no chance of ever being saved. I refuse to feel that way. Saying “I love you” is just as much or more for me than it is for the hearer. The absence of love is always the introduction of ignorance.

The second thing I want to impart to the fine folks of Ashford is, “You are loved.” Not just by me, but also by the last group of folks I just left, who have opened up their hearts and sent along a sensation of inclusion.  I also want them to know that God loves them. Even though we have made the mistake of attempting to turn God into a person, and therefore cursing Him with virtues ranging from cranky and cantankerous to being a hippie and free love advocate, God is actually a spirit. He is a spirit of light and He is a spirit of love, and whenever you find those two at work, He is there in the midst.

I guess in constructing my Ashford reality for today, I will tell the folks that love is needed for change. Change without love is like a car trying to run without oil, as the gears grind, heat up and smoke, destroying the engine. Love is the oil of change. If it doesn’t motivate the change, then we resort to things like intimidation, anger, frustration and guilt. Nasty stuff. Love gives us a reason to change because we know that even if we falter in the process of revising ourselves, love persists.

And finally, tonight in Ashford I will tell them that change is coming. We can no longer preach a God who is disgusted with human beings. We can no longer have two political parties which are locked in a Hatfield-and-McCoy feud. We can no longer feel superior to one another and think that we can achieve equality and justice. We can no longer have men and women fighting each other in situation comedies and think that one of the genders can solve the problems of earth without the other. We can no longer insist that who we are is sufficient without a little bit of repentance and a whole lot of God’s bolstering.

So there you go. You can see why I’m excited. I get to go on a road trip to bring a blessing to people I do not yet know. I get to say:

• I love you
• You are loved
• love is needed for change
• and change is coming.

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If God Was … July 26, 2012

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If God was a child, He would play more than pray.

If God was a dancer, His steps would be well-ordered.

If God was…

• a minister, He would practice more than preach.
• an elephant, He would remember what’s really important.
• a donkey, He would carry truth into town and invite praise.
• a cat, everything would be pu-r-r-r-fect.
• a banker, He would show interest instead of collecting it.
• a rock star, He would make a joyful noise and party with sinners.

Yes, if God was a grammarian, He would insist that we edit this work to say, “If God WERE a grammarian.”

If God was …

• a chef, He would proclaim, “Come and dine.”
• a billionaire, He would know that man does not live by bread alone.
• a weatherman, He would let us know, “To everything there is a season.”
• an atheist, He would try the spirits, and see if there is a God.

Yes, if God was a woman, He would rule the world while birthing children.

Likewise, if He was a man, He would be a good father and son, with a Holy Spirit.

If God was a student, He would study to show Himself approved.

And if He was a football player, He would run and not be weary, and “pass” on condemnation.

If God was a conservative, He would be a good one–minus the belief that humans are naturally evil.

If God was a liberal, He would be a good one–minus the belief that humans are naturally good.

If God was a comedian, He would rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice.

If He was a hippie, He would honk because He loves Jesus.

And finally, if God was a dog, He would be man’s best friend.

God is this and so much more. He is less, and still more.

If He is real, we are in for quite a ride. If it is all a figment of our imagination, then we have the same ride … alone.

   

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