Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 12) Obsession… July 17th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3005)

Reverend Meningsbee

A damnable itch, festering in the brain, simpering to be scratched.

Meningsbee was enraged.

He was wounded.

He couldn’t decide if he was more angry or hurt.

But on the drive home, grasping a moment of maturity, he decided to keep the events of the failed Bible study to himself. Yes, when asked about it, he would play dumb and refer all questions to the other parties involved.

And there would be questions. The congregation had great faith that Meningsbee would be able to come into the living room setting of Sammy Collins’ home and use his spirit and charm to initiate healing.

Maybe that’s what bothered him the most–a complete sense of failure; a rage over being out-foxed by this common possum, Swanson. How did he ever let himself be in such a vulnerable position that this upstart could make him look foolish and insignificant?

Even though he decided that the mature–or as he called it, the Jesonian–way of handling the event was to remain silent, his brain was inflamed with an inferno of retaliation.

And the more he considered his noble choice, to turn the other cheek and pretend it never happened, the more a self-righteous slime made him feel pious–superior to his adversary. Then an aching anger chased that religiosity, leaving him bound in a week-long fit of overwhelming obsession.

Fortunately, he succeeded in dodging all the phone calls from church members by proclaiming that he would share his findings on Sunday. This seemed reasonable to all of them. Why tell the story fifty times when you could tell it once, and have it done?

But what would he tell?

Even though Patrick Swanson did not ask him to keep their conversation in confidence, he knew that anything he would relate about the plans of this worship leader would come across petty–and of course, be easily denied.

He’d had such great hopes.

Meningsbee had come to Garsonville with the spirit of a servant, but now he was realizing that he still had a mind to be king.

Yes, in his more enlightened moments he was willing to be patient and wait for good things to come his way, but that damnable itch insisted on being recognized.

He got so worked up that he ended up with some sleepless nights that invited a common cold to further aggravate him. Sneezing, blowing his nose and sipping some tea and honey for a scratchy throat, he wondered if he could skip the Sunday service due to illness.

Implausible.

Things had to be handled, and unfortunately, it was his hands.

He didn’t pray enough, he didn’t study anything, he over-ate, over-thought and over-reacted.

He reluctantly dressed for Sunday morning and headed out the door. He had no message.

He had never come to spend time with the Heavenly Father so ill-prepared. All he had inside him was poison. But he drove to the church and stepped to the door.

A few people tried to hug him and he was able to maneuver away by explaining his contagious condition. Fortunately, the congregation easily handled prayers, offering, testimonies and even a song.

Then everybody grew quiet, the building completely still, waiting for Pastor Meningsbee to speak.

He stood to his feet, vacant of inspiration.

He walked slowly, as a man treading to an execution. He turned and looked into the hopeful faces of those who yearned for peace with their neighbors.

Suddenly tears filled his eyes. He feigned a sneeze and grabbed a Kleenex to draw attention away from his sudden emotional outburst.

Catching his breath, he picked up a Bible nearby and held it in the air. He stood there for a long moment, waiting for the Holy Spirit to give him utterance. There was none.

Yet the congregation was waiting.

Donate Button

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


Jonathan’s Latest Book Release!

PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant

Click here to get your copy now!

PoHymn cover jon

 

A Petty Party… April 16, 2012

(1,486) 

Apathy, lying and envy.

They are like three homely sisters perched on their beds late at night, brushing their hair, gossiping about all the faults of their friends and neighbors until they are adequately convinced they are better than everyone else and can ease into their beds to snore the night away.

A petty party.

It begins with apathy. “I don’t care to become better.” The only trouble with the doctrine of self-esteem is that it often stagnates the human spirit into accepting the present status instead of improving the situation. We are just “better” when we’re trying to do better. We are happier when we don’t accept sadness as “our lot.” We are more spiritual when we don’t settle for religion.

Because after we become apathetic, lying joins the party. “I will lie and do whatever is necessary to deceive people so that I look better.” Once you accept the fact that apathy is going to be your profile for ongoing endeavors, you immediately face a difficulty. The world around us demands improvement, so if we’re not going to actually improve anything, we’re going to have to lie about it. And if we do decide to lie about it, there will be a challenge to our claims–which brings us to envy.

What is envy? “I will destroy what you are doing–which is obviously better–with my lies.”  For after all, the accomplishments of a dedicated soul can be devastated in a  moment of time by a careless lie told by an envious bystander. It’s what concerns me about our country. You see, “patriotic” I understand–loving the freedom, liberty and “justice for all” that sets this nation apart as a beacon of the possibility of truth. What I do not understand is the apathy that creates lying and a nasty bit of envy, causing us to replace “patriotic” with “pettry-otic.”

Yes, we have begun to tear down other people’s ideas, the endeavors of governments not our own and the accomplishments of individuals across our world simply because they’re not American. Rather than setting a higher standard for ourselves based upon the luxuries and freedoms we enjoy, we have decided to lower our standards and simply criticize the rest of the world.

I refuse to join this petty party. I feel the only way I personally achieve greatness is by utilizing my gift, enjoying the fruits, and simultaneously analyzing how I can do it better. I am astounded that both Republican and Democrat are guilty of pandering to the American public with a political philosophy of, “I’m okay–you’re okay” instead of challenging this great nation to greatness. There is no excuse for a country with as much financial possibility as we possess to either be in debt or to lack in the creative abilities to place us at the forefront. But because we’ve decided that we don’t want to get better, and no one can tell us that we should, we welcome the spirit of lying, which causes us to become envious of other cultures, attacking them and finding fault with their ways. Here is the definition of greatness:

“I will continue to do what I know to do until I am shown something better and then I will gratefully receive it and include it in my life–to pursue better.”

If that is not the mission statement of our country, then we have lost our way. In this election year, I don’t know if there will be anybody with enough guts to say that we Americans have become lazy and have replaced the pride over past accomplishments for the pursuit of present ones. Will anyone have the truthfulness to tell the American people that we JOINED the banks and Wall Street in a financial gluttony that has left us all a bit destitute? Will anyone have the audacity to say how ridiculous it is that we are still fighting racial issues in our country after nearly four hundred years of struggle? And is there any politician who will be willing to speak aloud that American productivity has dropped as we’ve allowed apathy, lying and envy to replace workmanship?

As I stood in front of the congregation in San Diego yesterday morning, I gazed upon a group of people who had so much potential, yet are told by their society that they need not concern themselves with transformation, but instead are given the constant message that “they are all right because they are Americans and Christians.” Well let me tell you, being American and Christian comes with a truckload of responsibility. Being an American means to give freedom to everyone else if you expect it for yourself, and being a Christian requires that you love your neighbor everywhere just as much as you love yourself.

There’s a petty party going on. Criticism, sarcasm and frustration have triggered apathy, lying and envy in us instead of challenging us to ask that most holy question:

“Thank you Lord, for blessing me. Now … how can I do it better?”

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

Below is the first chapter of Jonathan Richard Cring’s stunning novel entitled Preparing a Place for Myself—the story of a journey after death. It is a delicious blend of theology and science fiction that will inspire and entertain. I thought you might enjoy reading it. After you do, if you would like to read the book in its entirety, please click on the link below and go to our tour store. The book is being offered at the special price of $4.99 plus $3.99 shipping–a total of $8.98. Enjoy.

http://www.janethan.com/tour_store.htm

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.

%d bloggers like this: