Catchy (Sitting 24) For So They … November 26th, 2017

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Many frat pranks and moon-doggies ago, Michael Hinston carried a double major in college. History and political science.

Michael’s reasoning was that the history would tell him the mistakes to avoid, and the political science would open doors to teach him to become the kind of civic leader to change the world.

Now, as a congressman, he spent most of his time raising money. Because he had to be elected every two years, at least one of those years was a perpetual fund-raising bash. The rest of his time was divvied among family, uncomfortable parties and meetings with people who were desperately trying to get his vote.

Lobbyists.

It might be fine if they would actually work in the lobby–but they invaded the hearth, home and even mind of every congressman. Michael had once pledged to himself that he would never be involved in scandal. He hated the word. It sounded rotten and smelly. But he found, as a congressman, that he was already at the mercy of organizations, corporations and causes which seemed to be inexplicably linked together into one gigantic chain around his neck.

The latest was a visit from the Christian Liberty Operation (C LO). They met with him to discuss the Jubal Carlos situation in Las Vegas, and shortly after the meeting, Mr. Carlos was arrested, which set in motion a whole series of events which were very displeasing to the C LO

They made it clear. They were upset.

Even though Michael was not in charge of arranging Jubal Carlos’ arrest, he was blamed for the mischief that had been perpetrated because of the flawed plan. The CLO wanted this “popular Jesus idea” thwarted, and now it was gaining national attention.

It was especially disconcerting to Michael when Jo-Jay showed up at his door, a bit surprised herself. For she had been given a tip about where the original order had come from–to hassle Jubal Carlos. The tip she received led to an address, which placed her on the front doorstep of Michael’s home.

So it was an extraordinarily fretful exchange between the two old university friends. Michael did his best to convince Jo-Jay that her contact was completely mistaken–that he knew nothing about any Jubal Carlos or organizations trying to bring him down.

Jo-Jay was nice–but Michael knew, deep in his heart, that she did not believe him. Jo-Jay was a bullshit sniffer. For years he had admired her ability to detect lies and deception, but now he just wished she would keep her nose to herself.

Jo-Jay apologized for the inconvenience, made a lame attempt to suggest they “connect later,” and headed down the sidewalk, seemingly out of his life.

But something was wrong. She was onto him. She knew that he knew more than he claimed.

Michael didn’t know what to do. The honest truth was, he was scared to death of the people he was working with and the lobbyists who were tramping into his life. They were much too energetic, much too determined and much too violent in their mannerisms.

Yet he knew if he failed to report the visit from Jo-Jay, there would be punishments. He didn’t even know what that meant, but was positive he didn’t want to find out. So he called the Christian Liberty Operation and updated them on the visit.

Less than half an hour later, there was another knock on his door. He opened up, and standing before him was a tall, broad-shouldered man, about six-foot-four, with black eyes.

Michael was startled.

The gentleman at the door asked if he could come in. He introduced himself simply as “Joshua,” and for the next ten minutes he questioned Michael about Jo-Jay.

Who was she?

What were her political leanings?

Was she a religious woman?

What was her relationship with Jubal Carlos?

Was she part of the scheme to popularize Jesus?

Where did she hang out?

But what chilled Michael’s soul was when Joshua asked one final question. Do you know anything about her allergies?

Michael didn’t. Michael was suspicious. Michael should have asked this “building of a man” why Jo-Jay’s allergies were of any interest to him. He stayed silent.

Michael was afraid for his old friend.

But Michael did what he had learned to do over his months of living in Washington. He answered the questions, nodded his head and offered no objection.

The next day, a letter arrived on stationery from the CLO. The stationery read, “Christian Liberty Operation,” and the by-line was, “For so they persecuted the prophets before you.”

It was unlike any professional letterhead Michael had ever seen. It seemed sinister. Even though the words “Christian” and “Liberty” were displayed in the title, there was something about the operation that chilled him to the bone.

Who was Joshua, and why did he want to know so much about Jo-Jay?

More importantly, who was Michael Hinston, and was he going to warn his old friend?

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … July 9th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man: She was born in the middle of America, in the middle of the century, in the middle of a great struggle of human advancement.

 

Dear Woman: His roots were more Southern, in a climate of quaint settings and reverence to Good Book passages.

 

Dear Man: She was a simple young lady with farm-girl beauty, possessing a great curiosity for knowledge.

 

Dear Woman: He was a lad with charisma who found schooling too easy, opening the door for plotting mischief.

 

Dear Man: Though conservative at first, she gradually realized how expansive the world was around her, and set out, in her own simple way, to try to find a means of understanding it.

 

Dear Woman: He, on the other hand, felt destined for greatness, even though his beginnings foretold of poverty and a life too common.

 

Dear Man: She met him at college. She was immediately struck by his ability to communicate, seemingly without ever needing to coordinate his ideas or organize his approach. She was drawn to him. She was not the only one–but she was drawn to him.

 

Dear Woman: He found college to be the perfect atmosphere to spread his wings and launch his self-belief into a dynasty of friends, arrangements, love affairs and universal embracing.

 

Dear Man: Her path was not so obvious. So she studied, she worked, she succeeded, she failed–trying to gain her visibility through academic achievement.

 

Dear Woman: When he met her, he knew he needed her. He required her. She was the common sense for his wild notions. She was the appearance of respectability to his more erratic demeanor.

 

Dear Man: She was in awe of the fact that he was interested. The world stopped. She was being pursued by one of the more popular, dynamic young men, who had been selected by many for greatness. Within a few dates, she became devoted. He, on the other hand, understood that she was coming from a place of invisibility, and what she yearned for was approval–mostly his approval.

 

Dear Woman: They went on a journey together. She remained devoted and he continued to provide her approval, even though his lust for power and for the affirmation of his masculinity, through the appreciation of other women, was a source of conflict and aggravation.

 

Dear Man: She objected. But she persevered. She saw a bigger picture instead of the snapshot of the present moment’s annoyance. She stayed with him.

 

Dear Woman: And he stayed with her, because he needed her. To some degree, he wanted her. So he continued to provide her the necessary blood-flow of approval that pumped her full of life.

 

Dear Man: They went to great places and did great things. And then it was her time–her chance to step out of obscurity and have a say in her own life, very possibly positively affecting the lives of millions. She devotedly asked for his approval.

 

Dear Woman: He seemed excited. Yet because the warmth of the spotlight was too prevalent to his skin, he was somewhat disheartened by the backstage. So even though he promised to approve her, a lingering stupidity deep within his heart caused him to sabotage her efforts.

 

Dear Man: She had been devoted through the affairs, the winks, the rumors, and the issues. Now she needed his devotion, and was failing to get his approval. She was hurt, but she was still loyal.

 

Dear Woman: He was approving, but so preoccupied with his own concerns that he left very little air for her to breathe.

 

Dear Man: For you see, love is more than devotion.

 

Dear Woman: And certainly more than mere approval.

 

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Jesonian: Jesus of Parkersburg … October 25, 2014

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Cara is hard at work, desperately trying to finish up an extra half-shift she has taken on to earn some extra money for her two children at home, who want to go on a field trip to Charleston with their class.

Things have been tough since her husband left early last year, without any explanation.

She’s working double shifts for single-digit dollars, trying to singlehandedly be a mother, provider, disciplinarian, and if there’s any time left over, companion to her fledglings.

She doesn’t need much.

Some encouragement would be nice.

Maybe just to not have people look down on her because her clothes are a bit bedraggled.

Maybe one night off, to laugh instead of budget.

She needs Jesus of Parkersburg.

She needs him not to be religious, but rather, helpful.

Maybe to just listen.

She needs him to tell her that she’s still only thirty-three years old, that her life isn’t over, and she’s not just a paycheck trying to fund her little tykes into an uncertain adulthood.

****

Matt has the afternoon off to go to Wal-mart to buy some incidentals–clothing and shoes–for his family. He tries to plan this trip to the Superstore once a month, taking a good bite out of his paycheck, hoping that they can make all the macaroni last as long as the cheese.

He doesn’t mind the hard work at the coal mines. He doesn’t care that often his safety may not be the primal concern of those who run the company. He has enough faith in God to get him in and out of the tunnels everyday without fear.

But it sure would be nice if Jesus of Parkersburg would lighten the load just a little bit. Not much.

Maybe give him a few extra dollars so he could buy some insulation for the house so that the winter months wouldn’t be so brutally cold and expensive.

Maybe Jesus could help him get a break on that medication that one of his young’uns needs, which the doctor insists will help with the repeated seizures.

Matt’s not a demanding sort, but he sure would appreciate a break.

*****

Calvin hangs out down next to the railroad tracks on the east side of town. He’s officially homeless, in the sense that he neither has an address nor a pillow on which to lay his head.

He begs next to the railroad tracks because when somebody does give him a quarter or a dollar, he jokingly runs across the tracks and says, “Thank you. Now, you just helped me get on the right side of the tracks.”

Ever since his wife was killed by a drunk driver, he has lost much of the will to pursue or succeed. It was just the two of them, and now that’s it just one of them, he feels no compulsion to over-produce.

But he sure could use Jesus of Parkersburg.

Maybe somebody could just come along and pop him a twenty-dollar bill so he could remember what the taste of a good hamburger is in his mouth.

Yes, that would be nice.

Maybe Jesus of Parkersburg could help him find a way to get back into life, and feel important to someone again, like he was to his loving mate.

For you see, Calvin’s not miserable. Just underused.

*****

And then there’s Tim–a young man who’s hanging out at the Dairy Barn, even though it’s set to soon close for the winter months.

He’s not sure where to go. A junior in high school, he’s not adept in sports, can’t sing in the choir, couldn’t afford a band instrument even if the school still had a band.

So he finds himself with a lot of time on his hands, with a bunch of mischief trying to tease and tempt him into some unnecessary choices.

Tim sure could use Jesus of Parkersburg.

Just someone to come along, put an arm around his shoulder and say, “Listen kid. Let’s go out, find what you can do really well, and then get you to doing it.”

He might rebel against such interference, but considering that Jesus is so compassionate and full of good cheer, he just might listen.

For after all, when the Dairy Barn closes, where is he going to go?

*****

You see, the problem is, there is no Jesus of Parkersburg.

There’s no Messiah walking around healing the sick and raising the dead.

For the next twenty-four hours, there’s me. Makes me feel sorry for the good folk of this town. They deserve so much better.

But since there is no Jesus of Parkersburg, I’m going to think, pray, laugh and try really hard, in my own clumsy way, to be Jesus… in Parkersburg.

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Check Us Out … August 4, 2014

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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If you tell us we can’t, we’ll do it more

Tell us we can–why bother?

Surround us with love, we might prosper

Surround us with hate, we just might discover love.

Give us less and we start nurturing abundance

Give us abundance, we are drained of the energy to excel

Preach a sermon, we go to sleep

Produce a vision, we wake up prepared

Tell us we’re great and we’ll develop an attitude

Tell us it’s impossible and we just scratch the itch

Steal our heart, we fight back

Mess with our mind, we get revenge by thinking

Steal our soul, we create God

Laugh at us, we push harder

Believe in us, we may bring you along

Our colors don’t matter

Our nations are just land

Our religion is a process of hope

Our dreams are ever-changing sunrises

Ours is a family–a race of becomers

We are human

It’s up to us

We can’t walk on water

But we sure as hell will try

We have the power to welcome or deny our Creator

We are cast to Earth but not destined for mere mischief

We are …

What we are willing to be

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The Final Pollster… October 17, 2012

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Live from October 1st filming

Having survived last night’s Presidential debate, not to mention the incessant racket of pounding pundits that followed the encounter, I awaken this morning a bit befuddled, somewhat disappointed and slightly alarmed.

I have never considered myself to be one of the more intelligent people in the world. Even though God has given me talent, I feel that my greatest asset is in how well I have multiplied those gifts to foster fresh possibilities.

But when I listened to the message of the two men that America has decided are the cream of our crop for potential leadership, I was greatly dismayed–mainly because all of the processes, approaches and procedures that go into this fiasco called the American election system are completely contrary to the desires of my heart and the tenets of my lifestyle.

I have shared with you over the past several weeks the seven things that God hates. And last night, I suddenly realized that the entire collage of Divine dislikes were being acted out right before my eyes.

A proud look–yes, it seems that both the Republicans and the Democrats feel that “acting tough,” being overly confident and aggressive is the best way to convey dominating leadership.

I disagree. I serve a principle which says that to become master, you must go through the schooling of servanthood. I am looking to work with people who believe that NoOne is better than anyone else, and discard the jutted jaw, the stiff neck and the prideful glance of the arrogant.

How about a lying tongue? Yes, God hates that one. It seems that our friends who strutted across the stage last night in manly magnificence have no particular predilection to be honest or honor veracity. The lies flew like water balloons at a fraternity party.

I yearn for human beings who will admit their weakness but also acknowledge that NoOne is better than the truth.

The writer of Proverbs tells us that God hates those who shed innocent blood. Yet our two candidates running for the President of the United States feel that they prove their testosterone level by saber-rattling, discussing more destruction, additional war, ongoing conflict and careless loss of life. The only problem with saber-rattling is that somebody eventually screams, “Engarde!”

NoOne is better than life–whether it’s a poverty-stricken child, helpless animals in the forest, human beings in the Middle East or the unborn child. Until we learn to respect the value of the breath inside the vessel that God has placed on this planet, we are not worthy to be caretakers of it.

Did I see and hear any wicked imaginations? It seemed to me that the only goal pursued was attempting to prove that the world was going to hell in a handbasket and that each one of these men supposedly has the remedy for removing us from being toted away. When the only thing available to you is the desperation of ignoring beauty and goodness in order to frighten people with devastation, you have become a hateful thing to God.

NoOne is better than happiness. When you see unhappiness, the answer is not to finger-point and blame others for the unsettling condition. Find your own portion and change things for the better.

Feet swift to mischief. I kept thinking that Governor Romney and President Obama were playing to a very small audience while pretending to vie for the position of the leader of the free world. For after all, the voters and the human beings in that amphitheater were pawns in a chess game to establish dominance. Their concern was with their own little collection of cronies who had trained them for the evening’s joust and would be joining them for dinner afterwards, to discuss in glee particular points of mastery. That’s not leadership. I don’t think either man understands his mission, and when you don’t understand your mission, your feet will tend to run in the direction of favorability and mob mania. God hates that.

If you don’t know why you are doing what you’re doing, then stop doing it until you can find out why you did it in the first place. Once you establish your mission, then you have the means to know that everything else is secondary to it. The mission of being President of the United States is simple–liberty and justice for all. Anything that impinges on those two holy ideals must be deemed unnecessary or even evil. Likewise, the mission of God is to bless people, yet give them free will. When you stop blessing people or insinuate that you intend to remove their free will, you lose the heart of God. Our political parties are ALWAYS running towards mischief because they have forgotten why they have been honored with the privilege to serve America.

I had to think about #6–a false witness. Time and time again, I listened to Mitt and Barack twist the facts, turn the tables and knock over reality to allow for their particular rendition of understanding to be presented as supreme.

NoOne is better than good news, and if you don’t have good news, do yourself a favor and help those around you by being forthcoming and admitting the lack. Here’s the truth: we have gotten ourselves into an economic pickle which is now worldwide and does not seem to have an easy solution. So unless we go back to hard work, generosity and personal responsibility, we will never be able to get out of this mess. But neither one of these gentlemen is willing to tell the American people that there is hard work ahead, that we will need to be more generous with each other, and that the buck does not stop in Washington or with tax cuts, but rather, at our own doorsteps.

A false witness is someone who purposely tries to hide the bad news by pretending like there was never supposed to be any good news.

And finally, as I finished up watching the debate last night, I felt empty inside. I am overjoyed to be an American, but in that moment I felt raped of my patriotism and deprived of a national treasure. I sensed that our entire nation was being robbed of its dignity as these two men sowed discord among the brethren in an attempt to win an office which, if done successfully, requires unity, not division.

Don’t talk to me about gridlock. Don’t criticize the attack ads of the other party as you continue attack ads of your own. Don’t sow discord among the brethren of this country and think you’re going to reap anything that resembles cooperation. NoOne is better than peace.

I realized that before my eyes–acted out in some sort of sophomoric play–were the seven things that God hates. Here is what is required for our country to gain back its spirit and receive the favorable nod of the real Final Pollster–Almighty God:

1. NoOne is better than anyone else.

2. NoOne is better than the truth.

3. NoOne is better than life in all of its forms.

4. NoOne is better than happiness.

5. NoOne is better than our mission of liberty and justice for all.

6. NoOne is better than the need for good news.

7. And finally, NoOne is better than peace.

Maybe the vote we need to hold on November 6 is to decide once and for all if we really believe in each other anymore–or have we just become a permanent house divided, pretending to enjoy one another at holiday get-togethers.

God hates seven things. I take that seriously. I take that to heart.

And I, for one, am going to try to distance myself from His displeasure.

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Fast Feet … September 19, 2012

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The commentator was insistent. He wanted each and every listener to understand that the quarterback was having trouble because he had lost his confidence. Furthermore, he knew the quarterback had lost his confidence because he had “fast feet–happy feet.”

The commentator pointed by pointing out that in one of the replays, this fine athlete, who had a history of being very proficient, was failing on this evening because he couldn’t stay in the pocket, stand firm and throw the ball, but instead was responding to the pressure by dancing about and looking for an escape. It made sense.

Human beings do require a certain amount of confidence. This is undeniable. But the confidence has to be based on something rational as opposed to mere intangibles or hopes and dreams. Otherwise we get dancing feet, fast feet or happy feet–take your pick.

If we go back to that list of the seven things that God hates, the next one is “feet that are swift to mischief“–fast feet.

Are we just talking about bad humans here, who are always looking for a new high or a way of escape? Not at all. Here’s a definition of mischief: “I have lost my mission and I’m chasing other people’s ideas.”

That’s when we get in trouble–when we lose our faith in the portion that has been provided for us and believe it to be insufficient, and then we start trying to wrangle new ideas which are out of our scope, beyond our comprehension or even detrimental to our values. After all, the person who says I’ll try anything probably ends up doing so and always arrives at a place of defeat.

What is my job? My job is to ask to receive my mission. Ask who? Three different individuals:

• Ask God. God’s answer is always located in the reality of what He’s already given you.
• Ask yourself. That answer always comes in the quality of your work and the confidence you have in doing it.
• Ask others you trust. That answer will be given to you in the impact you have on their lives and what the depth is that they feel you impart to them.

When you combine those three answers, you end up with your mission. Then, when you have your mission, you should seek to find your best adventure.

This is where most people lose their way. I think there are many fellow-travelers who actually do discover their mission, but the available venue for them to pursue their particular adventure seems so insignificant and small that they lose faith and think they must have been wrong about their calling.

Do not despise small beginnings.

It it’s NOT small, it is probably a passing fad which will be yanked out from under you just when you’ve made a start. The best adventure is the possibility that comes your way which immediately allows you to start your mission–not in two years; not later on in life. Now. Remember, the scripture on faith in the book of Hebrews begins with the word “now.” Faith is never expressed in the future, but rather, manifested by making a beginning in the present.

Consider this: faith with works is alive.

And finally, knock on the doors around you until you open an opportunity to do your mission with the best quality possible. None of us are going to escape sales. Even if you don’t seek it out as an occupation, you will still find yourself doing some of it to gain the breath to exhale your abilities to the world around you.

So, this is how we plant our feet firmly, ready to deliver the ball. Without this, we get fast feet–we borrow other people’s philosophies, which is not that different from using their toothbrush. We look for what is most popular instead of what is historically lasting. We grant ourselves permission to flirt with sin and ill-advised activity, proclaiming that we can handle it and know exactly how far to go.

We are pursuing mischief. Mischief is when I have denied my portion and I keep trying out everybody else’s portion.

The Bible says God hates it. Why? Why should He care about such an insignificant, immature choice? Because He loves us and the pursuit of mischief makes us look stupid, careless, insecure, frustrated and without the ability to bear the fruit that obviously comes from our own efforts. People who have “fast feet” towards mischief state, “I am better than my mission.”

And what is my mission?

1. What I can do.
2. What needs to be done.
3. A starting point.

I arrived in Gas City, Indiana, last night. Only fifteen folks showed up. I had a choice–was I going to try to adjust my feet to the number of individuals who occupied the seats and come up with a compromise towards my mission, or was I going to stay faithful to what I am able to do, find out what needed to be done with these fifteen folks and jump in to a starting point?

It’s really that simple. My surroundings will change. My circumstances will be altered. My hopes will be tainted. My faith will be challenged. My mission must remain the same–otherwise I find myself with “dancing feet,” running towards mischief.

God hates fast feet because they run away from true ability to try to find temporary success in mischief. So what will today hold for me? How about you?

I have no idea. But the only way to guarantee the purity of each and every moment is to stay on mission and avoid those “dancing, happy, fast feet” which cause me to chase a portion that was never meant to be mine.

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