Austin Without Limits … July 13, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(1942)

The population is 24,834.

Truthfully, I must apologize to the 24,684 people in Austin, Minnesota that I will not be able to communicate with tomorrow morning, simply because I have not been creative enough to find a way into their lives in a realistic form which would reach into their homes instead of asking them to come out to the first United Methodist Church to peer at me.

I do not begrudge them their privacy. I am not critical of their position of needing to be elsewhere. I think it falls my lot, as the person driving the wagon, to find a way to deliver the goods.

I have decided to be on the road, which does make it much easier to find Austin, Minnesota, instead of checking the itinerary of a major airline, thinking they might have a terminal in the burg. Yes, it’s best to motor into Austin.

And I have taken some time to learn a bit about the city. It is the home to a large Hormel plant, which specializes in making spam. I have eaten spam. I like spam. Spam is a lot like me–it’s a bunch of pork products with gristle, held together with fat. I have an affinity for the little square.

Candidly, I’ve heard there are those who are not sentimental about this canned delicacy, but that’s because they haven’t fried it up in the skillet with some over-easy eggs and a tiny bit of maple syrup on top.

Maybe that’s the whole key to everything—how we serve it.

And it is my full intention to serve the good folks of Austin tomorrow instead of arriving there requiring service.

It was Jesus who made that brilliant point. I think he realized there would be an awful lot of people in life who would arrive needy and greedy instead of ready and steady.

So it’s my job to have most of my hang-ups out of the way, my expectations low enough that the folks of FUMC Austin can exceed them, and to have my ABCs in place:

A. Accept the job. These folks will not immediately embrace me as a long-lost cousin from Birmingham. They’ll probably sit at a distance on the back pews and leer at me, waiting for me to do something worthy of their consideration. That’s just part of the job. Folks don’t owe us props. But it sure is nice when they give us a chance to open up our traveling trunk and display our wares.

B. Be humble. Now, here’s what I think about humble: humble really doesn’t mean a whole lot if you end up doing a crappy job. Humble is good when most people think you might have a right to be conceited, but instead, you choose to be simpler, gentler and friendlier.

C. And finally, care as you share. After all, ministering to people is not giving a speech. It’s using as few words as you possibly can to let them know what you believe, so if they have a need, they can open up their hearts and inform you where it hurts. How do we care? I think the best way to let people know you care is to tell them what you’ve seen and heard, and freely admit you haven’t seen and heard everything.

I am looking forward to being in Austin in the morning. Matter of fact, they’ve invited me back to do something in the evening, and the audience that gathers for that particular excursion will be based upon how well I displayed my ABCs in the morning.

All I can say is, I hope they receive my message … and I don’t end up in spam.

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New Names… April 8, 2013

(1,845)

Not that anyone will particularly care, nor will the 24-hour news cycle lift an eyebrow in my direction, but I have decided to rename the political parties in this country based upon their impervious natures and status of performance. So in my world, henceforth now and forever, the Republicans will be known as the REDOlicans and the Democrats shall be refered to as the DUNNOcrats.
Perhaps an explanation is in order. I shall be brief.
Since the Republicans seem to pine for a time in the past when things were better, and they yearn to restore a former way of living, I have selected to acknowledge them as the party of REDO. I’m not certain whether they want Eisenhower back in office, or Ronald Reagan, but most of them certainly would not favor Richard Nixon.  In their minds, they have captured from their childhoods memories of a previous era when things were simpler, the government was less complicated, taxes were lower and men were men and women made really delicious noodle dishes. They are Redolicans. They are convinced that a journey back in time will actually thrust us forward in the holy pursuit of our morality.
On the other hand, the Democrats, who always want to espouse high-sounding ideals and concerns for the less fortunate, when given the opportunity to come up with an idea or manifest a program which might lend itself to some practical assistance for the causes they trumpet, seem to always end up with, “Dunno. I don’t know what to do.” It is much easier for them to blame those ignorant, backwoods Redolicans for insisting on nostalgia instead of dealing with the signs of our times and the nature of our culture.
So when you get a Redolican and a Dunnocrat in the same room, discussing the future of the American people, you have a climate of piety over self-righteous causes mingled with a sense of intellectual superiority, with no real ideas on how to balance the pursuit of the common good and happiness.
No wonder our country is in a stalemate and the American people constantly feel violated by leaders with fumbling hands and lustful desires.
So you can feel free to tout either of these political parties as better than the other, but I must remind you that being better requires a fruitful conclusion. Yes, “by their fruits you will know them.”

For the Redolicans, it often is the inclusion of a certain magical percentage of the population to the ignoring of  others, and for the Dunnocrats, it’s a theory of inclusion with absolutely no absorption.

On the other hand, for me–I met some real people yesterday. There were so many wonderful folks at Friedens with delightful stories that it would take many jonathots to tote their tales.

Let me sum it up by describing the woman in her eighties, who went on a missionary trip to Honduras on her own, to seek some adventure and help people.

And then there was the twenty-four-year young gent who was so concerned about his generation becoming cynical and unfeeling that he shared his heart with me openly, with a budding faith still in his spirit that things could become better.

Neither one of them were Redolicans or Dunnocrats. Instead, they just looked at what they had in their hands and tried to do something with it.

That is what I call being a patriot.

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