Catchy (Sitting 55) It Wasn’t a Terrible Idea…… July 1st, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

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No plan is perfect–except in the minds of those who want to declare it so, to calm their nerves.

And certainly, this particular plot put together by Charmaine and Thomas was only functional if every detail worked in unison.

Trouble began as soon as they hit the hallway heading into the rotunda. Thomas realized how out-of-place he was in his cowboy hat and serape, fearing that they were in danger of jeopardizing the plan. So he quickly removed them, searching for a trash can as Charmaine moved briskly down the hallway in front of him.

Rudyard Simmons, a fifty-three-year-old guard who had served the Capitol for twenty-five years, found it a bit suspicious that someone was disposing of their clothing in the trash, so he eased over to speak with Thomas. Mr. Kinear sprouted some nervous energy, which made Rudyard even more suspicious.

Simmons was a fine, old, wizened civil servant, who actually had achieved his job because his mother had the good sense to name him Rudyard (after Rudyard Kipling) figuring that white folks, who might be considering hiring him some day, would be aware that at least name-wise, he had brushed up against European tastes.

Meanwhile, Charmaine turned around, aware that Thomas was not behind her. Seeing Rudyard making his way toward her cohort, she made a fatal mistake. She panicked.

She instinctively reached for her gun, and before she could cover it up, one of the guards spotted the weapon and screamed to the whole hallway, “GUN!”

When Rudyard heard this, he turned toward the sound of the warning, and Charmaine realized that the scheme was unraveling. She pulled her .38 calibre pistol from her holster and aimed at Rudyard, as several guards moved toward her.

Charmaine fired her weapon at Rudyard, but he, still possessing some cat-like reflexes, ducked, hitting the ground so that the bullet flew over him and struck Thomas in the chest.

Without missing a beat, Rudyard–who had never used his weapon during his entire twenty-five years; never even pulled it from its holster–yanked it out with all his might, swirled around on the ground, pointed at Charmaine and fired, striking her with a bullet in the throat.

The two intruders lay bleeding in the hallway of the Capitol Building while Rudyard’s heart pounded like a marathon runner’s. Charmaine lasted about two minutes before she completely bled out. She was barely able to form any words, but did manage to gush an anguished, “Sorry.”

Thirty feet away, Thomas was dead. Quite dead.

The hallway was now full, as the gallery stood by in stunned silence. Slowly, two of the Capitol armed guards moved over to help Rudyard to his feet. With horror in his eyes, he asked his friends, “Did I kill her?”

No one responded, but instead, took him to the nearby office of the Speaker of the House and sought a doctor to examine him for any wounds.

It really wasn’t a terrible plan. Charmaine and Thomas had conceived to capture the Speaker of the House and take him into the Chamber, holding him hostage until their demands could be met.

Thomas had become a “knight in armor” for millions of Americans who were unable to afford their medications due to the rising costs of drugs. Charmaine had joined him when her mother was forbidden a particular treatment because the insurance companies deemed it unnecessary.

Maybe the two of them should have sought more peaceable means of presenting their plight, but when there’s smoke in the air, it’s difficult to decide which fires to put out.

That night the President of the United States secured time on all networks to speak to the people, but CBS sent a request to have Jubal Carlos address the country, right before the President spoke.

They had no idea if they would be able to connect with him, especially since he had just finished the series in North Carolina with the reporter, Jennifer Carmen. Not only did Jubal take their call, but he agreed to fly to Washington to share.

The network asked him how much time he would need. They were a little shocked when he responded, “Four minutes.”

So five were set aside, just in case, and promptly at 7:55–just prior to the eight o’clock hour when the President was due to speak–Jubal sat on the steps of the Capitol Building with a single camera framing his face.

“Horrified. Shocked. Despaired. These are words that will be used for today’s events in the hallowed halls of our legislature. We should be upset. But in the midst of it, some very powerful and positive moments occurred. His name is Rudyard Simmons and he’s fifty-three years old, and you would have never have known him. Nor would I, had this tragedy not occurred. Had this attack happened five months ago, I’m not so sure Mr. Simmons would have been ready for it. Just because insanity has an agenda–one which is evil–does not mean good people are prepared to do their part. What has happened in our country over the past months has not only built up our love, increased our hope, but it’s made our faith more sturdy.

“Rudyard Simmons saw something that didn’t look right–a cowboy hat and a serape in the Capitol Building being thrown away by an anxious stranger. He wasn’t judging cowboys nor Mexican immigrants. He moved decisively to find out if there was something that needed to be done. Over the past years we have lost our boldness. We nibble at each other. We fuss like little children. But today, a real man boldly walked over to ask a question, and in doing so, threw a wrench into a plan to silence our government.

“I don’t know what the President is going to say. You know I am not a political person. But tonight I am grateful for the boldness of Rudyard Simmons, and more than that, I am thrilled that his faith, along with his works, made sure that there weren’t many dead.”

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G-Poppers … February 23rd, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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G-Pop looked on with a bit of sadness as social media lit up with posts about evangelist Billy Graham.

Many of them were cruel. Matter of fact, an inordinate number were laced with vindictive language and resentment against the deceased Reverend.

He lived for ninety-nine years, so trying to abridge his life into one space of time is completely impossible. So the last generation only has insights on the occasional press release which came from his home in North Carolina and the actions of his son, Franklin Graham.

G-Pop feels the same way about Billy Graham as he does about Michael Jackson. G-Pop is not sure either one of them would appreciate the comparison, but every person’s life, including Michael and Billy, comes down to two questions.

What did he or she do?

What did he or she miss?

Can it be as simple as the good doings outweighing the bad, which means someone ends up righteous?

Yes. Any other standard would be prejudicial.

What did Billy Graham do? He preached the Gospel to the whole world. Granted, it was a particular gospel–focused mainly on repenting of sin, accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior and being baptized. Therefore he missed the greater glories of the Gospel of Jesus:

• Abundant life
• Mercy to others in order to obtain mercy
• Refusing to judge fellow humans
• Wise to stay away from politics.

Michael Jackson arguably wrote the most unique blend of R & B and pop music ever penned. The tunes were filled with humanity, generosity, giving, joy and tolerance. We also have to note that he missed the opportunity to learn to love himself or accept who he was, and in the process may have accidentally damaged the lives of some young people because he was abused as a child.

Billy Graham stayed married to the same woman and was never involved in a sexual scandal throughout his entire ministry.

Yet he missed the opportunity to link arms with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and failed to encourage the South to join the North, East and West to accept civil rights in this country.

He missed the moment when the gay community sought equality as citizens, and instead evaluated them by his moral code and traditions, dating back thousands of years.

Michael Jackson was generous, childlike and desperately tried to address world hunger while simultaneously destroying himself through drug abuse.

It would be terrible if Dr. Billy Graham were to be known as “Billy Graham Cracker.”

Just as horrible would be “Michael Jackson, child molester.”

G-Pop thinks both of these men established that they had hearts to do more good than bad. The weakness of each one showed up at poor times in their personal histories, but with confidence, G-Pop will continue to respect their journeys.

So every time G-Pop hears the old hymn, “Just as I am without one plea,” he will think of the love, efforts and mission of Billy Graham of North Carolina.

And when G-Pop hears Beat It, Billy Jean and Man in the Mirror, his eyes will tear up over the memory of one of the greatest talents that ever inhabited the Earth.

If G-Pop expects this same quarter when he dies–to be evaluated by what he’s done, minus what he missed, hoping for a positive total–then he must first extend that grace to others.

We must first extend that grace to others.

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Mayberry Passion … April 17, 2014

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Being the local sheriff in a tiny village in North Carolina demands a variety of skills. Sometimes a psychologist. On other occasions a fixer of bicycles for young boys. It always requires a smile and a kind word for those passing by.

Andrew Jackson Taylor just seemed to have been born for the position.

Most folks called him Andy. He was always available with a joke or a piece of sage wisdom, but could also offer the occasional warning to those who were flirting with disrupting the peace.

And recently that had become a prime concern.

Deputy Barney Fife, who was known for his nervous twitches, was agog with fear and was trying to warn Andy everyday that this new young man who had come to town was causing a commotion which was about as close to a riot as the folks of Mayberry would tolerate. Matter of fact, Barney had been on the case of this fellow named Jesus ever since he had sauntered into town.

First of all, he had long hair, which was quite unacceptable to those who sported and required buzzed white-walls around the ears. Barney explained to Andy that Floyd, the local barber, was very unhappy, because many of the young boys in the town had begun to grow their hair long to imitate the stranger.

Jesus lived somewhere out in the woods, where he escaped late at night, only to appear early in the morning, chattin’ up the locals and joining in to the freshness of the day.

Goober came from the gas station to tell Andy how this young feller Jesus, had challenged him about putting water in the gasoline.

The local sewing circle, led by Aunt Bee, in an attempt to be cordial and neighborly, invited Jesus to come and share at their monthly meeting. He created quite a stir when he decided to speak up against the practice of gossip.

Barney believed that this Jesus was anti-American because Gomer Pyle, after spending an afternoon with him, had decided not to join the United States Marines.

What really bothered Barney more than anything else was a rumor circulating that the Darlings, who lived in a holler down the road, had invited Jesus to a wedding of one of their young’uns, and word has it he brought his own corn squeezins’ that he had changed to moonshine.

Honestly, Andy didn’t pay much attention to it, knowing that Barney was like a bear-trap with a spring too tight. That is, until he caught Opie fishing down at the lake with Jesus right after school, and didn’t much appreciate anyone interfering with his child. Jesus explained that he was just using fishing to teach the boy the multiplication tables, but Andy was not comforted.

Also when Thelma Lou was attacked by some of the local religious sorts for a reputation she had developed while living in Raleigh, this Jesus pointed out to the accusers how easy it was to have their deeds exposed, and that it might be a good idea for humans who live in stained glass houses not to throw stones.

Barney was even upset because Otis, the town drunk, had stopped drinking so much and didn’t frequent the jailhouse anymore. You just can’t mess with traditions.

But I guess it came to a head when Andy’s girlfriend, Helen Crump, who taught at the local elementary school, allowed Jesus to share with the students a motivational message which ended up being “no one is better than anyone else.” It wasn’t so much that Andy disagreed with the idea in principle—just found it totally impractical.

So with all this ruckus being raised by this stranger, who most people believed must have come from Mt. Pilate, it fell Andy’s lot, as keeper of the peace, to take Jesus for a little drive down the road. He brought along with him a bus ticket and thirty dollars.

Andy explained to Jesus that it was nothing personal, just that it was his responsibility to maintain the dignity and order of this town, and that things just weren’t working out too well with young Jesus being among the citizens.

Jesus listened carefully.

About a mile outside town, Andy pulled the squad car over and handed Jesus the bus ticket and the thirty dollars, and told him he really wasn’t welcome in Mayberry anymore. Andy, being the insightful sort, suggested Charlotte—where there were many more people who just didn’t pay as much attention to one another.

Jesus took the bus ticket and the thirty dollars and climbed out of the car. He started to walk away and then turned and said, “I guess I’m finished here. I hope your memories of me, after a bit of time, will end up being pleasant.”

He waved, turned on his heel and ambled down the road.

Andy watched him for a few moments, and said under his breath, “What a peculiar fellow.”

He turned the squad car around and headed back to town.

It was date night with Miss Crump.

 

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Running out of Gas(tonia) … December 3, 2012

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Me—what I think I can do.

My—what I actually can do.

Mine—where I end up doing it.

Always remember: frustration is the residue from unrealistic expectation. There are certainly human maladies that cannot be healed by a change of attitude, but frustration and despair certainly are self-induced–because we have overestimated our self-worth.

I experienced that this weekend. Even though I find myself in a wheelchair, the rest of the world is not so bound nor inclined to be terribly sympathetic. Stairs are everywhere, walking is a must and weakness is viewed with pity instead of admiration.

So when I looked at my schedule and realized that I had three shows to do from Saturday evening through Sunday afternoon, which would include three separate set-ups, tear-downs and travel from place to place through the countryside of North Carolina, it seemed feasible in my mind because my brain temporarily became confused and thought I was twenty-two again.

I am not. I am healthy and still strong but require supplements of relaxation and naps to fuel the engine. I had none of those this week-end.

So it came down to whether I would be able to fulfill my mission and do justice to the lovely people who had gathered to hear what I have to offer. Fortunately, I learned a lesson many years ago–really, a very simple formula for success. Let me lay it out for you in three steps:

1. Trim your self-worth.
2. Multiply your talents.
3. Go the second mile.

One of our biggest problem as human beings is that we over-exaggerate our abilities and don’t adequately compare them to the greater talents of others. It’s a mistake. In the pursuit of having confidence, which our culture touts as an essential for possessing fruitfulness, we end up with an inventory of our particular attributes and abilities that is far beyond reality. Trim your self-worth.

It doesn’t hurt to play down what you can do, because exceeding your promised package is only pleasing to other people. For instance, I was so happy on Saturday night when our sponsor told me that she was “really anticipating a great show–but this evening exceeded my expectations.”  Aha. There you go.

Now, here’s the double punch. Once you trim your self-worth, then start working on multiplying your talents to bring some surprises to those around you, who felt that maybe you had reached your limit. When I rolled up to the church Sunday morning, there were six steps to get into the sanctuary, with no ramp for my wheelchair whatsoever. The dear-hearted pastor of the church was wondering if they were going to need to carry me up the stairs. Since I have no Caesar complex, I rose from my wheelchair and ascended the tiny mountain on my own, with the aid of the sturdy handrail. They didn’t know I could do that–but it was a talent I needed for that moment and have worked to maintain for just such an occasion.

You have to multiply your talents or you become so predictable that humanity just might find you boring and then you could be silly and become offended.

Finally, there is a place we think we should be, but it is never where we end up. Even though I worked really hard this weekend, I found myself in front of about 150 to 200 people. A case could be made that I could have encountered more folks simply by setting up my equipment at the Kannapolis bus station. But since that was neither available nor even a pleasant thought, I ended up where I ended up. I don’t resent it. I don’t wish I was somewhere else. I don’t feel slighted. I feel blessed to have anybody give an ear to my thoughts.

Because of that, I can come in and give those people a show I would be proud to put on Broadway or network television. It is my second mile. I never perform for the size of the room. I always perform for the size of my faith.

You will find yourself running out of gas even in Gastonia, North Carolina if you get your “me, my and mine” out of whack. But if you take the time to trim your self-worth as you multiply your talents, accept where life has sent you and go the second mile, you not only will be valuable to the world around you, but you will be endowed with a giddy feeling of satisfaction–such as fills my soul on this morning.

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Just One More… November 17, 2012

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Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia.

All of these places have been my home this year. I have established a temporary address in each one in an attempt to achieve some permanent results. It has been Tour 2012–and it finishes off tomorrow morning in New Albany, Indiana. You will probably never visit New Albany, Indiana. You don’t have to go … because I’ll take you with me.

At one of my stop-offs in Grand Junction, Colorado, a man asked me what my favorite scripture was. I thought he was just trying to make conversation, so I turned the tables on him and asked him to tell me his favorite passage. He said it was a toss-up between “for God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son” and “nothing can separate us from the love of God.”

I told him I thought those were excellent choices. He pursued. “But what’s your favorite one?”

“My favorite one is found in the gospels,where it reads, ‘and Jesus went to another village.’”

He looked at me, perplexed. I didn’t expect him to totally understand. For you see, the power of the gospel does not lie in the establishment of a church–the organization of religion into practices and rituals. The power of the gospel is that it travels well and is best expressed when it’s moving. It’s why Jesus said, “Foxes have holes but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

My traveling enables me to come into a town and love people, bring some incentives, make a few suggestions and exhort the areas where they are pursuing better paths–and then leave, allowing them, as mature people, to assimilate the message into their lives as they deem powerful. The danger of remaining in one community and believing that you can make a difference is that we all have a tendency to settle…and meddle. We “settle” into a series of repetitive actions determined to be normal, and then, when other people don’t follow our structure, we have a tendency to “meddle” in their affairs, taking away their freedom to be who God has made them to be.

Sometimes we use politics, sometimes we use corporations, but usually we use religious conviction as a club, attempting to hammer people into submission to the will of our local village.

It is most unfortunate.

Traveling as I do, I don’t have to “settle” for anything. I can live my life as I choose and share my discoveries with others without feeling the need for them to either condemn or affirm my purposes. Therefore, I don’t hang around long enough to meddle in their affairs or critique their concerns when those particular selections are not to my favor.

So you might ask me how you can do the same thing–to escape “settling and meddling”–and still maintain the integrity of a local post office box. That’s really easy. God gives every one of us a “tour schedule.” The beauty for most of you is that you don’t ever have to leave your own home. That tour schedule is called Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Yes, all of you can be on a tour–as long as everything that happens on Monday is not carried over to your next stop, on Tuesday. So you have your Monday tour and then you climb into your wonderful tour bus of sleep to journey onto your next gig, which is called Tuesday. Now, if you take along the problems of Monday or celebrate too many of the victories, without being fully aware that the next tour stop will have its own conflicts, then you make a huge mistake. But as long as you live within the day, not worrying about tomorrow, and you don’t fuss over the affairs of the last performance from the day before, you can find yourself in the same position I do–touring.

For after all, we’re all just visiting this place anyway. And those who put down their roots too deeply become very dissatisfied, disillusioned and discontented at the brevity of the visitation.

So I have one more stop tomorrow–but actually, I never stop. Because even as I go on to Nashville, Tennessee, to eat Thanksgiving with my family, and then climb back into my van to tour for ten days with a Christmas presentation, to finally, arrive in Miami to spend the holidays with all my kin, I am always moving on. Sometimes it’s just from Monday to Tuesday; sometimes it’s from New Albany, Indiana to Knoxville, Tennessee. The gospel works best when you don’t try to make your location concrete, but instead, understand that we’re all just passing through–one day at a time.

“And Jesus went to another village…”

A lady recently told Janet that she had come to the conclusion that we were homeless. I guess in some people’s minds it might appear that way. Of course, for fifty years now, I have been a follower of a homeless man who ended up traveling around–and in so doing, changed the whole world. I guess I rather admire his choices, and pattern some of mine after them.

So you will find me, for the rest of my life, going to another village. You may follow suit by keeping your favorite pillow but permitting yourself the blessing of traveling from Monday to Tuesday without feeling the need to worry about the former day or be too concerned about the next one.

Just remember one of the great rules of the road: it’s not polite to steal towels from your last lodging.

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Road of the King–October 27, 2011

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About four or five miles outside of King, North Carolina, is a little United Methodist Church where I’ve spent my past two days sharing with salt-of-the-earth citizens while adding my particular sprinkle of pepper. The experience was rich. People are always a little hesitant to embrace strangers for fear of contracting some sort of social leprosy or actually absorbing a new idea or two. But once you get past the initial shock of physical appearance and survive the great bathing of curiosity, you can get down to the realities of person-to-person.

Unfortunately, two of the greater forces in our society–religion and politics–always fail to deliver us from true evil. They manufacture enemies for us to despise or attack in an attempt to keep our minds off the real problem. And that dilemma would be our inability as a species to deal with our own problems, preferring to pick at the sores and scabs of others.

As I’ve taken a magnifying glass to inspect my innards more frequently, I have discovered that I have much less time to examine yours. It is a good thing. So as I leave my new friends in King (or actually rural King, NC), I impart three different thoughts to them–great barometers to measure whether what they believe and do is really on the right track with the mind of Jesus, or just a bunch of religious rhetoric and political poo-poo.

Let me begin it by saying, “You know you’re on the right path when …”

1.  Children are welcome and encouraged to understand. Somehow or another we forget that children are going to spend most of their lives as adults. If we let them walk around believing they don’t need to understand the truth, they can carry their childish attitudes into the grown-up world and become both obnoxious and useless. Sometimes we think that childhood is only about soccer balls, video games and parties, with a little schoolwork thrown in on the side. Now soccer is great exercise, some video games can be entertaining, everybody loves a party and I certainly have nothing against the pursuit of knowledge. But I think children need to know they’re heading towards a world of responsibility, which they need to both understand and enjoy. Otherwise, you have bratty kids who are going to become frustrated adults. Now, most twelve-year-old children think church is boring, old people are boring, and Jesus is both church AND old, and therefore boring. It is a huge mistake. Every kid should walk out of church with a smile on his face and an idea in his head. Pastor, if they’re doing that, you’ve reached the old ones, too.

2.  Joy should always be established. Joy is a great two-pronged blessing. It is feeling good about what just happened while simultaneously knowing that if it never happens again, you’re still going to be all right. Joy is happiness mingled with the understanding that being giddy is not always possible–but happiness never has to leave. It is the knowledge that we are never forsaken. It is the great information that we matter.  And it is the realization that because we matter, the person sitting next to us does too.

3. And finally, every church service should holler with glee that faith is admired. We need to stop reciting things so much and instead, need to live out a fruitful life, which gives us reason to testify.  Stop expecting people to believe. Belief is a lot harder to achieve than most ministers preach. Faith demands that I walk away from a lot of things I’m seeing towards a bunch of stuff that appears to be invisible at this present moment. That’s tough. But if I’m not walking towards possibility, I’m walking away from opportunity and leaping into disappointment. Faith should be admired. When we see people standing on their own two feet, even though they’re a little wobbly, we should come and put an arm around them and tell them how we admire their bravery. Unfortunately, we’re too busy trying to find all the right answers instead of taking advantage of each and every moment.

Most of the things being debated in our society–that folks are so sure they know the right answers to–I often am not even certain that I comprehend the question. Here’s what I do know.  Faith is necessary for me to get out of my circumstances. My circumstances are often of my own making, but God has granted me grace and forgiven me. And that forgiveness is contingent on me loving people–whether I like them or not.

That’s right. I don’t have to like you to love you.Liking you means I would look forward to an opportunity to share dinner and conversation with you. Loving you means that I’m going to get out of your way and let you have a good life so you can find somebody better than me to eat dinner with and have conversation. So that’s it, King. I love you.  And guess what? I even like you.

But take a  look in the faces of your children to see if your beliefs are working. And make sure you never get together without joy being established. And when you see faith in yourself and other people, step back and applaud and shout hallelujah. Those three things right there will set you apart from the mediocre politicians and the picky religionists.

I hope to see you again. And I know if we pursue these things together, there certainly will be a great meeting place.

***************

Jonathan sings “Let”

Jonathan Sings “Spent This Time”

Jonathan and his partner, Janet Clazzy, play “The Call”

Trutherans — October 21, 2011

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A small Lutheran church in rural North Carolina.

That was my place of visitation on Tuesday and Wednesday of this week. People–pundits, politicians and pollsters–all love to categorize them into convenient clumps for conversation. It’s just not that easy. Southerners are not alway Southern, Northerners are not always Northern, and likewise for the West and East.

Here are three things I CAN tell you for sure–people are not nearly as complicated as you make them out to be. People are much more sophisticated than you might think at first. And people always show up with some damage. As long as you keep that in mind, you can actually be of assistance to your fellow-man instead of a deterrent to their growth.

As I told you, it was a Lutheran church–yet most of the folks I met had absolutely no connection to a rogue monk named Martin Luther, who pounded ninety-five theses on the door of the Wittenburg Church in protest to the excesses and fallacious doctrines of the Mother Church. Matter of fact, some of the folks I met this week might even have a hard time understanding Luther’s mindset, way of life and approach to God and others. Yet the church bears his name. For instance, we still call it the United States of America, even though there are many people who would desire to tear us apart from sea to sea. What I encountered was not a congregation that was following the dictates of a reformer; what I found were Americans who grew up in a denomination they now continue to attend in hopes of pleasing a God they hope someday to meet.

The religious climate in our country is a great source of confusion to me. For after all, the average person has four major concerns: God, money, sex and family–not necessarily in that order, and the particular line-up for each person may very well clarify their focus.

The church talks about God, a little about family, but sex and money are normally taboo subjects unless an offering plate is being passed or someone’s teenager is discovered with an unwanted pregnancy.

Politics will surface the subject of God, completely avoid sex (unless it’s an “intern”-al situation), focus on money and use the subject of family to create commonality.

But no one seems to have the ability to tie it all together, bringing heaven to earth and connecting earth to heaven. If we were faithful to the teachings of Jesus, we would completely comprehend that this is the essence of human life, but unfortunately, those who want to go to heaven feel the need to be critical of earth. And those who want to get the best of earth are equally as condemning and mocking of heaven.

No one seems to get the notion that if there is a heaven, that means there is a God, which means God made heaven, but also holds fast that He created the earth.  Same guy. If you don’t like the idea of heaven, it certainly will taint your appreciation of earth and eventually turn you into a curmudgeon who growls at people instead of embracing them. If you happen to be greatly in favor of heaven, then you just might tend to develop a discontented attitude towards earth–and therefore earthlings–making you of little light to the earth around you, and certainly not a city on a hill for all to see.

My message to those delightful Lutherans was this: we really show that we believe in heaven by relishing, studying, absorbing and appreciating in great thankfulness–the earth.  We equally project our anticipation of what heaven will truly be by attempting to duplicate its glory in our earthly confines.

For instance, if I lived in a lovely house, went on a cruise ship, the boat sank and I ended up on a desert island, would it be better for me to sit around and pine in despair over my abandonment, or try to find the elements on that particular island of destination, attempting to duplicate the beauty of my original home and surroundings? Obviously, good mental health demands that I believe where I am is where I am going to be and therefore I decide to make it the best possible scenario within my power to create.

Unfortunately, we just don’t believe that. Some people believe the earth is miserable and someday we’ll go to a better place. Some people believe there is no better place and the earth is our final destination, so they end up making themselves feel miserable. The end result? Misery for both.

Here’s what I feel. I don’t think heaven is a better place. I think it is God’s rendition of what I’ve already begun on earth. Yes, I think that as a great Host, He is preparing a place for me that imitates in His lavishness what I have already created here with my limited resources.

So if we don’t love the earth, believe it’s the Lord’s and enjoy the fullness of it, we probably will try to procure heaven–but only once or twice a week when it crosses our minds. If we believe there is no heaven, we probably will attempt morality but give up in favor of our own choices and acquiesce to our greed.

I tried, this week, to turn Lutherans into Trutherans. I asked them to believe with me that Jesus was the bridge between earth and heaven. He was the son of man … and the son of God. And he came to give me the power to become the same.

So I never think about heaven without making a snapshot of that vision here on earth. And I try never to think about earth without believing in a heavenly Father who cares about everything here and now.

You know the beautiful thing? Those dynamic souls in rural North Carolina at that Lutheran church opened up their hearts and allowed the simplicity of this message to reside within them.  It was an amazing experience.

And so if Lutherans can become Trutherans, then … who knows?  Perhaps atheists could become “maybe-ists.”

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Jonathan sings “Let”

Jonathan Sings “Spent This Time”

Jonathan and his partner, Janet Clazzy, play “The Call”