Jesonian … June 9th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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It wasn’t a “God-storm.”

The disciples were wrong. They were wacked-out–frantic over a poor use of faith.

They were probably reflecting back to several weeks earlier, when they were in the middle of the Sea of Galilee, got swatted by a cloud burst with huge waves, thunder and lightning, were surrounded by other little boats, and Jesus walked on the water to save them.

Now, that was a “God-storm.” In other words, a storm that required the hand of God. But the little squall that blew up on this night was not a “God-storm.”

The disciples should have known–for Jesus was sound asleep on a pillow in the boat.

Let’s keep in mind–you’ve got four fishermen on this craft–at least that many. This isn’t their first raft trip. It’s not the first time they saw the waters well up around them.

But back before they were disciples–when they were men–they handled it. If they didn’t, they died.

But now, you see, they had faith.

And their faith, instead of making them whole, had made them lazy.

They didn’t need to wake up Jesus. They had just grown accustomed to the Master handling all the difficulties, and they were in no mood to put themselves in jeopardy by practicing what they had been taught.

They didn’t want to “take no thought” about the storm.

They didn’t want to be the “salt of the Earth and the light of the world.”

They were completely content being followers–while Jesus was trying to make leaders.

They were lazy.

This is the same problem we have in the Christian church today. The faith we espouse is making us lazy instead of whole.

For I will tell you–I cannot attest to the fact that the Christians I know are the nicest people I know.

I cannot testify that these same Christians are the smartest, most generous, most open-minded and most forgiving people I have encountered.

They are simply too damn lazy from living off grace to use their faith.

Somehow or another, Jesus had called men to be on his team, and they had all turned into little children: “Daddy! We’re gonna drown! Don’t you care?”

Even two ounces of faith would tell you that if Jesus is asleep on the pillow, this must be a livable situation.

Maybe it’s a “Me-storm.” That’s one that only requires “me” involved to produce a safe conclusion.

Maybe it’s an “Us-storm.” That would include my partner and myself, working together to provide energy, brains and faith.

Perhaps it’s a “We-storm.” We might have to beckon the whole family, maybe the congregation, the town, or who knows? The nation.

But when it’s not a “God-storm,” don’t expect God to take care of it.

Jesus wanted his disciples to trust him. But he wanted to trust them, too.

So if you want to have a Christian walk and you want to be Jesonian, you’ll have to learn the difference between a “God-storm” and a “Me-storm.”

After all, it’s not that God fails to answer your prayers. He just wonders why you’re so lazy, and don’t answer your own.

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … November 26th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3130)

Dear Man Dear Woman

Woman: I’m pregnant.

 

Man: What do you mean?

 

Woman: You don’t know what pregnant is?

 

Man: Yes, I know what pregnant is, I just don’t know why you would think you’re pregnant.

 

Woman: I was told I was.

 

Man: It’s not possible.

 

Woman: What do you mean, it’s not possible?

 

Man: I mean, I’m engaged to you and I know that I haven’t had sex with you, so the possibility of you being pregnant is zilch.

 

Woman: Listen, and listen carefully. I would like you to listen even if you don’t believe what I’m saying. And listen with the mind that the last thing in the world I would want to do is lie to you.

 

Man: You’re creeping me out. What are you trying to say?

 

Woman: I’m trying to say that I have been visited.

 

Man: You’ve had another man?

 

Woman: No, of course not. We’re going to be married. I… Well, I don’t know. Do you believe in angels?

 

Man: Are you asking me if I believe in angels or if I think there really are angels? Because it’s a different answer.

 

Woman: Are you saying you believe in things you don’t think are real?

 

Man: Hell, yes. There are two kinds of belief. There’s the belief that if I put seed in the ground, it will grow and I’ve got a good chance of a harvest. Then there’s belief in angels, which I’ve never seen, have no evidence of and just decide to go along with because the God who makes the seed grow insists they are real.

 

Woman: That’s interesting. Because the God who makes that seed grow has placed a seed in me that’s growing.

 

Man: Woman, you’ve lost me.

 

Woman: I hope not. I hope you can just listen a little bit more and understand. Because even if I’m crazy and this is all in my brain and I am stark raving nuts, I’m going to need you to hang around and take care of me. But if what I’m telling you turns out to be real, I’m going to need you to hang around to be part of it.

 

Man: Cut to the chase. What are we talking about?

 

Woman: An angel has told me that God is placing a baby inside me who is going to be the Messiah.

 

Man: What? Why you?

 

Woman: Thank you very much for that vote of confidence. I don’t know why me. Maybe it’s because everybody else turned Him down. Or maybe He knew that I was willing to at least consider it was possible.

 

Man: Let me go over what I’m hearing. You’re telling me that an actual angel spoke to you, telling you that God was going to give you a baby even though you haven’t been with a man…

 

Woman: Apparently that’s important–the fact that it isn’t coming from one fellow. The baby isn’t coming from one nation, or this baby isn’t the actual “seed of David,” but instead is a child of all the Earth…

 

Man: But you see, that’s where you’re wrong. The prophecies say that the baby will come through the loins of the seed of David, birthed from a Jew. Why would God have all these men in the Old Testament and then suddenly turn to a woman to deliver His messenger?

 

Woman: Actually, he’s supposed to be called Jesus.

 

Man: I am so freaking disappointed in you. If you made a mistake and slept with someone…I don’t know. Maybe I could forgive you. But at least I would not feel insulted that you thought you could deceive me with this tale of angels.

 

Woman: I completely understand your point. I knew when I came to tell you the story, I had to be prepared for the fact that it’s so unbelievable that you would not be able to comprehend it. I don’t know why the angel didn’t tell us together… but I think God just got tired of men dominating women, and He decided to do something with a woman, minus the man.

 

Man: There’s no history of it.

 

Woman: There’s never been a Messiah before.

 

Man: So what am I supposed to do?

 

Woman: You’re supposed to listen to me–which you’ve done–and decide for yourself if I’m a cheater, a deceiver, crazy, or blessed.

 

Man: No man could do that. No man could sort through this mess.

 

Woman: Maybe you’ll need an angel, too…

 

Man: Well, until my angel shows up, let me tell you that loving someone is not something that comes quickly and goes away just as quickly. Standing here, I feel bruised, upset, cheated… but in love. I need my thoughts to myself. I don’t want to say something stupid and hurt you, but I also don’t want to say something silly and find out you’re laughing at me.

 

Woman: I understand all of that. Parts of it hurt. Parts of it are reassuring. But I know this–even if I’m crazy, it’s my crazy. And I can’t turn my back on it. I promised I would be willing to see it through.

 

Man: Maybe we should sleep on it.

 

Woman: Maybe we should.

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G-50: Going Forward… November 14, 2014

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2413)

better garden sized

That pretty much concludes everything. At least for now.

Every intelligent creature willing to move toward wisdom is learning. And all learning requires both a willingness to make mistakes and a desire to repent.

After billions of years, the process continues.

It’s not so much that we search for knowledge as that knowledge is waiting for true searchers. And what makes a true searcher?

That’s easy.

Not being afraid to be wrong–or at least mistaken.

Good will come. Evil will challenge. Kingdom will rise against kingdom and nation against nation.

Those who get caught up in the temporary conflict of the moment will soon be forgotten.

The earth is stronger than any of its occupants. The universe has more purpose than any poet can imagine.

But when all has been said and done–and that is unlikely to happen soon–the desire of the heart of the Creator is to bring us back to the Garden.

So how can you make sure that you’re moving toward the Garden instead of glorifying the arid desert?

1. Find enjoyable work.

Stop hanging on the cross, trying to suffer for being a grownup. Once and for all, a crucified man set us all free. Anything you do that avoids joy is wasted breath and exhausting effort.

2. Be equal partners.

Avoid those who make distinctions between men and women, colors and races, religions, sexuality and just general preferences. Equality is the only form of humility that has everlasting power.

3. Honor nature.

The Earth brings forth fruit of itself. Stand back in awe. You are not absent from the process, but rather, included. Don’t abuse your Mother and expect your Father to stand idly by, approving.

4. Meet your Creator at the end of the day and enjoy the cool of the evening.

Life is not a perpetual prayer session nor is it a fit of anger, shaking a fist at the heavens. It is understanding that there is a time for work and a time for commiserating.

5. And finally, choose life over knowledge.

As beautiful as knowledge can be, and as essential as it is to your well-being, it is life that brings you abundance.

So I speak to you:

  • Use life to pursue desire.
  • Employ your desire to acquire knowledge.
  • Let knowledge advance science.
  • Realize deep in your soul that science will always lead you to God.
  • Worship God for the purpose of loving humans.
  • And finally, enjoy humans to better your life.

 

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The Sermon on the Mount in music and story. Click the mountain!

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Click here to get info on the "Gospel According to Common Sense" Tour

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G-34: Punishing Absence… July 25, 2014

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2302)

black shirt

Four hundred years.

A “non-prophet” business.

The messengers sent did their very best, many of them giving their lives for the cause, only to be killed by those who heard.

Everything fell into a malaise of three reactions:

  • Deny: “There is no Creator.”
  • Ignore: “What has the Creator done for me lately?”
  • Fear: “I am frightened of the Creator.”

A very dissatisfying conclusion for One looking for intimacy. It was time to review.

Billions of years of evolution had culminated in the creation of human beings. They were placed in a Garden of ideal circumstances for fellowship and pleasure. It failed.

Once separated from their Creator, the creations over-simplified their lives and over-complicated their emotions. All the indecision led to violence, and the Creator, in a foolhardy moment, destroyed His own work.

He regretted it.

So He tried to become a Father, even though He was guilty of abuse.

A provider.

Then a protector.

And culminating by sending prophets to be the mouthpiece of the deep affection of the Creative spirit.

Nothing worked.

When failure is the conclusion of your efforts, you have a choice of either becoming defensive or admitting the inadequacy and allowing for healing.

Four hundred years to think about it.

Something needed to be done. If human beings could not comprehend the tenderness of their Creator through Eden, provision, protection and prophets, then a much more personal solution would be required.

During the four hundred years, kingdom rose against kingdom, nation against nation, until finally one empire nearly encompassed the entire earth: Rome.

It was time to do something. It was time to be something.

It was time, once and for all, to show the creation … the Father.

 

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Arizona morning

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Humbled, Aware, Empowered … September 7, 2012

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I AM:

Humbled by the beauty of our nation

Aware that beauty is only skin deep

Empowered to find the heart and soul of my countrymen

Humbled by the generosity of my new friends

Aware of the responsibility of their faith in me

Empowered by the uplift and confidence it provides

Humbled by the need around me

Aware of what I can do

Empowered to go ahead and do it

Humbled by the grace of grace

Aware that grace is given to the humble

Empowered to embrace productive humility

Humbled by my weakness

Aware of my gifts

Empowered by the balance granted me by my Creator

Humbled by the overwhelming need

Aware of the needs already met

Empowered to continue to pursue meeting needs

Humbled by fatherhood

Aware of the requirement for my children’s independence

Empowered to see them do greater things than me

Humbled by failure

Aware of teeming progress

Empowered by promising opportunity

Humbled by what I create

Aware that it was birthed through adversity

Empowered to persevere

Humbled by tomorrow

Aware of today

Empowered by yesterday

Or sometimes …

Humbled by yesterday

Aware of tomorrow

Empowered by today

Humbled, aware, empowered:

  • The balance of power for this important hour.

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Day One, Part Three — Lighten Up … February 17, 2012

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Jubal hated his name.
 
Actually, he hated people’s reaction to his name. Everybody wanted to misspell it, mispronounce it and certainly, misinterpret it. He often wondered why his parents had made the choice, considering all the “John, Paul, Sam and Tom” possibilities available. When he asked them about it, their only response was, “Special people need special names.”
 
Jubal didn’t feel very special. Aside from the fact that every time he was introduced, some folks would crinkle their brow, trying to fathom the origin of his particular calling card, he felt completely normal, and really, without any outstanding uniqueness.
 
Well, he did have one talent. He enjoyed writing. Not scribbling and scrawling–just poetry and prose. He had even submitted some of his material to some publishers, and was unceremoniously informed that “there was no market for rhyme and verse.” He just smiled. So much like his whole life–there’s just no room in the world for a Jubal.
 
One day, in the midst of deep thought accompanied with a side of self-pity, he decided to stop complaining and create something. He took some of his poems, Xeroxed them and put them into a little booklet and entitled it Jubal’s Nation.  The volume wasn’t very attractive. It certainly lacked Madison Avenue appeal. But he decided it was his “meaningful mess.” It was a conglomeration of what he had learned, felt and discovered during his journey thus far. For Jubal had selected to allow his emotions to be honest, his spirit to seek and his brain to learn, while keeping his body as healthy as possible.
 
The process generated a product–him–and there was a natural light that beamed from that completed package that he felt was worth sharing. So he “published” his little work and passed it out to friends. He passed it out to enemies. He passed it out to everybody who was willing to hold out a hand and receive it. He had just enough funds to print two hundred copies of his little tome, and within three weeks he had dispersed all of them.
 
He sat back and waited. He realized that everything he could do was now complete. He had taken his time to discover the light within him and then had meticulously, through his pen and heart, released that light onto paper. He realized that none of us can offer any more than what we really are. It reminded him of a scripture in the Bible, where God looked on a world He had created and said, “‘Let there be light.’ And there was light.” There wasn’t light because God spoke it into existence. There was light because God WAS light. He might as well have said, “Let there be Me.” Jubal recognized, and even reveled in the fact that when you work on your internal light, you have the right and authority to speak that light into existence. Otherwise, your time on earth is a series of wishes and hopes instead of beams of enlightenment.
 
It took a while. Some time passed before people responded to Jubal about his new little book. He was itching to ask them, but intelligently passed, figuring that it was much too pushy and much too predictable. After a few weeks he received some emails. One lady said that the words arrived in her life right after the death of her husband and took away some of the sense of desperation. Another young gentleman said that he was actually contemplating suicide but had giggled at Jubal’s self-deprecating poems and realized that nothing was quite as bad as it seemed. Some folks actually wanted additional copies, although they suggested an improvement in the printing and the appearance of the work.
 
Jubal was ecstatic. He wasn’t going to be famous–but he never really wanted that. He just wanted to make a meaningful mess, while sharing the honesty of his heart, the seeking of his spirit, the learning of his brain, propelled by the health of his body. He wanted to bring the light that he was into being. He knew, deep in his soul, that no one can shed illumination if they do not already possess the spark. He knew that, just  like God, he was allowed to say, “Let there be light” if he had actually produced some light inside himself.
 
He still wasn’t sure he was thrilled with his name, but Jubal was an excellent name for a poet, if not for a dude. He printed off some more of his stories and circulated them. And that pretty well culminated the lifespan of Jubal’s Nation. But it produced enough light to brighten up his future.
 
Jubal would be more than just an unusual name for an unusual guy. He would always be a poet who was trying to create a meaningful mess through the honesty of his emotions, the seeking of his soul and the discoveries of his brain. From that point forward, he would be that poet who happened to have the really cool name: Jubal.
 
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Sitting One

 I died today. 

I didn’t expect it to happen.  Then again, I did—well, not really.

No, I certainly didn’t expect it.

I’ve had moments of clarity in my life.  Amazingly enough, many of them were in the midst of a dream. For a brief second I would know the meaning of life or the missing treatment to cure cancer.  And then as quickly as it popped into my mind it was gone. I really don’t recollect dying.  Just this unbelievable sense of clear headedness—like walking into a room newly painted and knowing by the odor and brightness that the color on the wall is so splattering new that you should be careful not to touch it for fear of smearing the design. The greatest revelation of all? 

Twenty-five miles in the sky time ceases to exist.

The planet Pluto takes two hundred and forty-eight years to circle the sun. It doesn’t give a damn. 

The day of my death was the day I became free of the only burden I really ever had.  TIME.

Useless.

Time is fussy.  Time is worry. 

Time is fear.  Time is the culprit causing human-types to recoil from pending generosity. 

There just was never enough time. 

Time would not allow it.  Remember—“if time permits …”

Why if time permits?  Why not if I permit?  Why not if I dream?  Why not if I want?  Why does time get to dictate to me my passage? 

It was time that robbed me of my soulful nature.    It was time that convinced me that my selfishness was needed. 

I didn’t die. The clock in me died, leaving spirit to tick on.  

So why don’t we see the farce of time?  Why do we allow ourselves to fall under the power of the cruel despot?  Yes, time is a relentless master—very little wage for much demand.

I died today. 

Actually … a piece of time named after me was cast away.

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