Balder … April 18, 2013

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I like hats.

I think I always have liked hats, even though I don’t remember wearing one until I was into my mid-thirties. Before that age, I took great pride in having hair. Matter of fact, in my twenties I grew it down to my shoulders and flipped it in the air when I sang, pretending I was Roger Daltry from the Who onstage at Woodstock, although obviously metabolically challenged.

But as I lost my hair I started wearing hats, the premise being that if you covered up the disappearing area of locks, people would not know that you were actually bald and you could still pull off being extraordinarily youthful and virile.

But I always ran into one problem: sooner or later you have to take your hat off.

Even though I would arrive at my engagements and set up for my show wearing a hat, it was generally considered inappropriate to sport one during the presentation. So actually, donning the beanie on top of my head for the first part of the event made the removal of the same more noticeable–and truthfully, I ended up looking … balder.

I know that sounds odd. But if people don’t know what’s under your hat, when you do finally expose it, it’s even more shocking. So about four or five years ago I stopped wearing hats so as not to send unnecessary electrical waves through the minds of those who meet me. Instead I establish my baldness from the beginning and never have to appear balder.

It’s a powerful idea–and can be applied in so very many ways.

About eight years ago I lost eighty-one pounds. I was VERY, VERY fat. I succeeded in shedding enough tonnage that I became just VERY fat. At that point there was one remaining goal–don’t get fatter. Traditionally, those who lose weight put all their weight back on. So even though I may be fat my whole life, I don’t have to get fatter. There is a certain regality to that which I shall rejoice in, even as I attempt to address losing additional ounces.

You want to know what the problem is with being angry? No one takes the advice of the Bible, which states, “Be angry and sin not.” So instead of getting angry and getting over it, we try to put a hat on it–a lid–and in the process, we become angrier.

Have you ever been hurt? If we’re not able to express the emotion of that pain, crying out some of the frustration, there is a great danger that people who are hurt become hurters.

We have a decision to make. Are we going to take what we are and share it from a pure heart, unashamed, or are we going to put a hat on it and pretend for a while that we really don’t have a problem?

Because I will tell you, I sin–but I am not a sinner. A sinner is someone who attempts to hide from what is done by sporting some fig leaves over the problem area, and end up looking more ridiculous.

• I am bald–but I will not wear a hat, cover up, and end up looking balder.
• I am fat, but plan on being conscientious enough not to become fatter.
• I have been hurt, but I am going to work it out to keep myself from becoming a hurter.
• I can’t lie to you–I do get angry. But I express it so I don’t become angrier.
• And God and I both know that I sin. But I like to let my Daddy know when I break a vase in the house, so I don’t become a sinner, hiding out in my room and missing out on the blessings of the household.

So I am bald. But ironically enough, if I try to hide it under my hat, it really does become … a hairy situation.

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Six Pounds, Seven Ounces … July 11, 2012

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Johann Luther Cring is now part of the human family.

He arrived at 5:25 A.M. this morning–nineteen inches long. His daddy was so overcome that tears flowed down his face, making him feel simultaneously engulfed in joy and embarrassed by his outpouring.

We had dinner with them just hours earlier at Ruby Tuesday’s and they both were much more prepared than I was when it was my turn to be fruitful, multiply and replenish the earth. All during the meal I thought about how this scene was so much like what God envisioned for His earth–the grandparents, sitting at a table, gazing at their children who were about to give birth, knowing that their offspring were much more prepared than they had been.

The best way to describe me as a new father was muddled and befuddled–and still, I was able to squeak out a passing grade when final exams came around. So I am confident that my son and daughter-in-law are going to be able to plug into this experience much easier than I did.

So on this auspicious occasion, I would like to give four pieces of grandfatherly advice to my freshly birthed Johann:

1. Drink the water. Don’t listen to those paranoid losers out there who line up like innocent cattle for slaughter to buy bottled water at a dollar a throw. The water that’s in those bottles was taken from a tap somewhere in the US and shipped to you as “Artesian something or other” and is really just what you are drinking from your faucet. If you’re going to spend your whole life afraid to drink the water, you’re going to miss a lot of opportunities to kick butt and take names.

2. Stay hungry. Johann, I pray that you do not spend your life worried about cholesterol and calories. Develop a lifestyle where you work hard, enjoy it and come home hungry. Human beings were meant to have appetites and if you spend your entire journey trying to suppress these blessings, you not only will be grumpy, but you might end up being homicidal.

3. Love everybody. I’ve never seen anybody killed in the street for flashing a smile. You will be tempted to be prejudiced against certain individuals because it happens to be the mindset of the moment, but just go ahead and love everybody and let God figure out who the bad guys are.

4. And finally, don’t lie. Oh, you will probably run across occasions when a good lie seems necessary, but every time you lie a little piece of your soul crawls into the corner and dies. If people can’t handle your truth, they probably won’t be around to listen to your Christmas wishes either and provide adequate gifts. Don’t lie. It’s a waste of time and makes you begin to believe that no one can be trusted, which is the first step towards living in hell.

Religion, politics and business will try to get you to break these four rules, but they are wrong.

• Drink the water.
• Stay hungry.
• Love everybody.
• And don’t lie.

Any human soul who actually follows this philosophy will not only prosper, but will have enough left over to bless everyone around him.

Welcome, grandson. Don’t be afraid of the world. Walk in love and understand that the world will be intimidated by you–because you are the only force that God has created … that can truly change it.

   

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