I’m Looking For… A Content God February 4, 2013

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Grouchy, grumpy and growling–three attributes we associate with being cantankerous and therefore, usually equated with getting old. Actually, teenagers can be just as grouchy, grumpy and growling as the retirement set, but apparently the younger generation has a better public relations agent.

I believe in God. I belive in God for three reasons:

1. The world is too magnificent, too intricate and too well-devised to be an accident of a “Big Bang” idea.
2. I need someone to love me as I find ways, through trial and error, to be more loveable.
3. I am arrogant enough to desire immortality.

Now, you will notice that I don’t choose to believe in God simply because the Bible tells me so, that I am fearful of the power of His nature, or even because I’m frightened of a devil’s hell. No–I’m looking for a God who’s content–because I know that I’m better when I allow myself to be.

Unfortunately, that book called the Holy Bible presents at least three different Gods, if not more:

• There’s the God who created the world, walking around like a proud papa, calling everything good and placing gold stars on daily assignments.
• Then you’ve got the God who had some sort of faith crisis own and began demanding the foreskin from male children, the deaths of the Amorites and Philistines, the forbidding of shrimp scampi and the killing off of folks in Sodom and Gomorrah because…well, because they weren’t right in the head. We go through a season of this God, who seems to be enamored of blood, requesting that small animals be killed as confirmation of forgiveness, and relegating women to the status of cattle.
• All of a sudden, some of the prophets from the minor leagues started sharing about a God who didn’t like killing animals and preferred mercy over sacrifice, and this carried through until we were given a live and in-person interview through the deeds and ideas of this fellow named Jesus. We were told that he was God. Suddenly back in our presence was a God who cared about people, told stories, condemned hypocrisy and welcomed repentance.

Recently I told a theologian that I was in search of a “content God” who was thrilled with the invention of fish in the ocean. He frowned and replied, “All the gods of the Bible blend into one God, who was all things and whose ways are mysterious. We will not understand until all things are revealed.” I looked into his dissatisfied face (which was grouchy, grumpy and growling) smiled and walked away.

You can feel free to boil down the entire Bible in an attempt to come up with a God who was able to kill children because they mocked a prophet but also heal the lepers because they cried out in praise. Not for me.

My God is a content one–because I know that I’m better when I am content. My God is the one who sat down on Friday afternoon, during his “week” of creation, and looked at man and woman, which He had just formed, and smiled in joy–with a tear in His eye.

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

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