Catchy (Sitting 54) Meanwhile… June 24th, 2018

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The city council of Sunbury, Ohio set aside a parcel of land for those who wanted to come and commemorate spiritual renewal. It became known as “Soulsbury North.”

Likewise, outside Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, a wooded area was sanctified for similar purpose. “Soulsbury East.”

And just south of Eureka, California, people gathered, worked together and put together “Soulsbury West.”

One newspaper referred to the movement as “The New Awakening.” Historically there had been a “Great Awakening” in America in the mid-eighteenth century, but the current reformation was characterized by true questioning and a desire for humility.

Simultaneously, Jasper Carlos, who was floating on his newly found fame, turned out to be a stand-up comedian. He started touring the country and recorded a live album entitled, “We Made the Devil Do It.”

Possessing the same charismatic personality as his brother Jubal, but peppered with great jokes and antics, he was soon filling halls, sharing a message similar to his twin brother–just with lots of laughs and knee slaps.

Former Congressman Michael Hinston met a woman in Salisbury who happened to be a Lutheran minister. He fell in love, and was so careful to make sure that he wasn’t foolishly rebounding that he nearly scared her away. Fortunately, friends at the Soulsbury camp held them together, and lay wedding was in the future.

Matthew developed a severe liver infection which placed him in the hospital for nearly two weeks. The doctors weren’t certain of the origin, but Matthew was pretty sure that it must have come from some bootleg tequilla purchased in a backroom casino. Normally when people are in the hospital, they take the time to reflect on their lives. Matthew, on the other hand, used the occasion to daily expose the foolishness of the medical field. Soos flew in to be his personal nurse, and also prevent him from being justifiably poisoned by one of the nurses or hospital cafeteria staff.

Fifteen installments of the story of Jubal Carlos were aired on the NBC affiliate over the next thirty days. The nation was transfixed over the comings and goings of their new national prophet. Of course, Jubal, wearing heels, a gorgeous black wig and a great make-up job, found it easy to do the special about himself, since he was quite privy to the subject matter.

One of the surprises of the show was an interview with Jubal’s mother, Jenesca. She was not an old woman since she had the triplets very early. So not quite yet fifty years of age, she was filled with spunk and vinegar, and offered some insight on the life and times of the two remaining sons.

She offered a heart-wrenching tale of the death of Jamison. She described his loss as if stirring in the middle of the night, sensing that she’d lost all air and breath, except it happened during the day.

And meanwhile, in Washington, D. C., Thomas Kinear climbed into a black sedan with Charmaine Donaldson and headed for the Capitol building. Charmaine was an FBI agent-gone-rogue in pursuit of what she believed to be a noble cause. Thomas was a patriot–at least he deemed himself to be–and had made a decision to strike out for the cause of the American Constitution and liberty throughout the world.

Arriving at the Capitol, Charmaine knew of an entrance not normally frequented by either diplomats or the public. Thomas climbed out of the car wearing a cowboy hat and serape, and grabbed a machine gun from the trunk, tucking it under his garments as they slowly walked to the private entrance.

Charmaine stared deeply into his eyes. Thomas gazed back at her and replied, “Yes. I’m sure. Are you?”

She quickly nodded and they covered the distance to the door. Finding it locked. Charmaine reached over and opened a window, saying, “I left it open just in case.”

Thomas winked. “Professional.”

They stepped in, made their way through a small library and into the main hall, scurrying toward the rotunda.

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Dudley … June 29th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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DUDLEY

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Published in: on June 29, 2017 at 12:47 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Come Along … October 11, 2012

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Live from October 1st filming

My legs are not working very well.

It is a simple statement. Looking down at it typed on this computer screen, it seems rather insignificant. Like most truly profound realizations, it comes suddenly, sits on top of your life and demands attention. The question is, what is the nature of the effort I will give to such an interruption?

First of all, I am not surprised. I am often amused when people act shocked by events which certainly had many warnings. One of our greatest human hypocrisies is the instinct to be wounded by the knife that is often in our own hand.

I weighed twelve-and-a-half pounds when I was born. For a myriad of reasons, I have continued to escalate from that point. A conversation on the issue would include a discussion of my metabolism. Also in that exchange would be a lifestyle which certainly has enjoyed fits of festive excess. Matter of fact, it is rather unusual for a man of my girth to survive to the ripe old age of sixty years. I am here courtesy of three miraculous ingredients: vegetables, exercise and the grace of God.

Unlike many people of my circumference, I have always been a consumer of fruits and vegetables. I also have partaken of much physical activity and exercise, even up to a few days ago, when my legs decided to take a much-needed vacation without giving two weeks’ notice. But mainly, God has found it, in His infinite wisdom, to forgive my many indiscretions, accept my fits of repentance and allow me to be a productive citizen of both the kingdoms of earth and heaven. For this I am grateful.

I have on occasion in my life, taken advantage of the medical field to improve my situation. If you will allow me a bit of candor, it has been a mixed bag. There are things that science does well, and things that the knowledge of man does absolutely poorly. If your particular affliction lands on the list of well-known cures or acceptable remedies, you are blessed and usually can receive relief from a doctor or nurse. If you fall out of the parameters of present research, comprehension or understanding, you will have the sensation of being a guinea pig–inflicted instead of affected. You can feel free to disagree with me on this and your opinion is just as good as mine.

But as I look at the work that God has given me for the past forty-two years, reaching out to my fellow human beings with a message of hope, compassion and common sense, I am not inclined at this point to turn myself over to the Philistines so they can cut my hair and rob me of my strength.  My hair, in this case, is the talent God has given me, and my strength is the joy I have in sharing it and seeing how, in my own simple way, I am able to touch the lives of my equals.

So what am I to do with a pair of legs yearning for retirement, when the top half of my body is churning for the thrill of the pursuit and the ecstasy of victory?

I would like you to come along with me as I pursue a miracle–or discover the true heights and depths of my foolish quest.

Here is the miracle: can I learn the wisdom afforded me about my health, weight loss, exercise and even water retention, which will enable me to take this temporarily detained body of mine and move it back into a position of mobility?

Or: will I discover that I have crossed some line, where my lack of attention to my own physical well-being has left me destitute and without recourse?

You certainly can understand why I find it difficult to believe that my Friend, who art in heaven, would abandon his buddy, who is bound by earthly limitations. I have trusted Him all my life, and on this Thursday, October 11th, I will trust Him again.

So what does that mean? It means that I am heading off tonight, by faith, to Sycamore, Ohio, to share my hopes and dreams in front of a small gathering of people. I will be doing so in a unique way.

I will be sitting in a wheel chair that I have rented for the occasion.

Do I feel a sense of personal loss or vacancy over appearing debilitated or weakened? Of course. I am a man. (Ignore that little piece of macho.) I am a human–and therefore, I want to appear strong and in control. But the issue comes down to whether I wish to sacrifice my pride, or lose my mission.

Let’s talk about what I DON’T know. I don’t know anything about a wheel chair. I don’t know if I have enough leg strength to get in and out of it to perform my duties. I don’t know if people will accept me as I am, and realize that the most important thing about me is the message I bring. I don’t know if you can sit in a wheel chair and play a piano. I don’t know if any of this will work.

But faith is not the substance of things “checked out;” it is the substance of things hoped for. Faith is also not the evidence of tried and true practices, but instead, the fierce pursuit of things unseen.

For the next little while, I would like you to come along with me on this journey. I am sure some of you will desire to rebuke me. Others will pray for me. There may be a few who will just find this a piece of fascinating poetry and prose. It makes no difference.

What I can promise you is an odyssey–and that it will come to an end. Our story has this beginning, many conflicts, I am sure, and will culminate with a third-act conclusion.

So I am off tonight to Sycamore, God willing. And I never ask Him to be willing until I make sure of my own stockpile of desire.

  • I am embarrassed, but not defeated.
  • I feel lonely, but not alone.
  • I feel weak, but not destroyed.
  • I feel abandoned, but also reinforced.
  • I feel selfish, but also generous.

I feel it’s time to close this particular jonathots … with the tale incomplete.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

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