Jesonian … February 10th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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There are two distinct types of abuse.

There is physical abuse, punctuated by an attack against body, heart or mind. It leaves cuts, bruises and scars. It is nasty, evil and inexcusable.

The other form of abuse is neglect. Being commissioned to perform a responsibility, someone decides to set it aside in favor of other pursuits, leaving that which was meant to be cared for destitute.

Although a case could be made that the religious system continues to physically abuse Jesus of Nazareth by crucifying him weekly in sermons, attempting to stimulate some sort of passion from the congregation, I shall step aside from such discussion in favor of presenting the true abuse.

We preach a Gospel of salvation which includes emphasis on “one time only, better do it today, this could be your last chance, hell is hot, Jesus loved you so much that he bled, and don’t you want to go to heaven” rhetoric in an attempt to frighten hearers who have already heard this many times before.

Meanwhile the real message of Jesus–the one that makes him our intimate, elder brother, and also affords the planet an opportunity for peaceful cohabitation–is often read aloud with the energy of reciting last week’s grocery list.

If you’re going to be Jesonian, you need to love Jesus. If you’re going to love Jesus, you’re going to get to know what’s close to his heart. And when you get to know what’s close to his heart, you will no longer be satisfied with a crucified Savior, but instead will become a disciple, pursuing a dynamic lifestyle.

You don’t have to go any further than the first three beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount to see what Jesus was all about. Matter of fact, I could spend the rest of my life elaborating on that trio and never run out of material.

It begins with the reality, follows with a challenge and culminates with wisdom.

The reality: we are happy because we are poor in spirit.

The reason that makes us happy is because we can stop trying to be spiritual instead of human. Once you find your classification, it’s so much easier to compete. Not an angel, not a saint, not a theologian, but rather, a human who is impoverished in the realm of spirit.

First realization: I am human and it is good.

God said so when He got done creating us. I don’t think He lied. Sure, we’re unpredictable, but since He’s not afraid of that, why should I apologize?

This is followed with a challenge. “Blessed are those who mourn.”

I have emotions and this is good.

Although we try to suppress them, these feelings continue to pop to the forefront, churn up our throats and waggle our tongues. Rather than deny them, we should use them to feel, to laugh, and most certainly, to mourn–to escape being uncaring bastards and instead, weep over the loss and pain in the world around us.

This climaxes with a bit of eternal, precious wisdom. “Blessed are the meek.”

Although there is a campaign to promote the notion that the more we brag, the stronger we are, the human race actually has a tendency to cut the stilts out from under those who try to walk too tall.

We honor humility. We are geared to destroy pride, even when it dwells within us.

Humble: “I am weak and it is good.”

In these three statements Jesus establishes a Gospel which is not only able to be mastered by humans, but can also be passed along as the living bread of truth that we all desperately need before we starve to death emotionally and spiritually.

I am human and it is good.

I have emotion, and it is good.

I am weak, and damn straight–it is good.

 

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Jesonian: Reasonable (Part 18) Wounded … April 3rd, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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He asked me if he could have a moment of my time.

We went into his office, shut the door and he sat down in his over-stuffed leather chair behind his huge mahogany desk. With a gentle, understanding tone, he said, “I’m just concerned that you’re ministering from a wounded place.”

I gathered from his approach and facial expression that he thought doing so was a mistake.

I replied, “Yes, I am. I wouldn’t trust any ministry that wasn’t.”

Jesus was the greatest minister of all time.

He was also very wounded.

Long before they hammered nails into his hands and feet, he was born of a virgin, considered a bastard, chased out of Bethlehem, exiled in Egypt, rejected by his home town, denied by his family, criticized, mocked, marginalized, cast out, called a sinner, a drunkard, a glutton and even proclaimed to be Satan.

These things hurt.

The truth of the matter is, none of us are worth a damn to be healers until we’ve survived the wounds.

For lacking the experience of transformation, we have a tendency to be impatient with those who have difficulty getting over the pain.

Life is not about whether you’ll be wounded or not.

You will be.

It’s about what you do next.

And the first thing you should do after being wounded is bleed.

Not a lot. You don’t want to pour out all of your life flow and confidence–just enough to dispel infection. Then stop the bleeding, cease the self-pity and clean the wound.

Take what you know to be true–memories of how you’ve been blessed–and tenderly use all of these affirmations to expel the dangerous rot that would attempt to infest you.

Bandage it.

Your healing process is nobody else’s business. It could be ugly. Other folks do not need to see your scabs. Take a private moment to heal–and then, when you’re all done, remove the bandages and proudly display your scar.

A scar tells everybody that you’ve been through the battle but you’ve endured the wounds and are coming out on the other side, healed.

No human being can escape the wounds.

Jesus didn’t.

But we become reasonable to one another when we allow the healing process to move forward, while simultaneously offering to others exactly what Jesus said to Thomas:

“Come see my scars.”

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The Can’t Rant … April 28, 2013

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• “I can’t judge you.”
• “I can’t change you.”
• “I can’t ignore you.”

Those are three solid statements of fact that must land somewhere between my brain and my heart in order for me to finally understand the concept of maturity and how to be a truly decent and productive human being.

I can’t judge you. God does not give me the right. And when I try to become the “decider” for everybody else’s life, I shine a great big spotlight on all of MY scars and blemishes. No one can survive that kind of scrutiny.

I can’t change you. My job is to let my light shine before men, so they can see any good works that might follow, give God the glory, and maybe in the process, adopt some ideas different from their own. Every time I try to change another human being, I push him away and pull him apart.

I can’t ignore you. I can’t pretend that you don’t have just as much right to your ideas and space as I do. I can’t look the other way when you’re in need because that type of deprivation is not limited to one family, but soon will visit us all if we become too shortsighted.

All that’s left to me is to love you. How should I do that?

• Let you find your way.
• Let you learn the truth.
• And let you have a life.

It is only in allowing you to determine your own path that I give you your righteous position of finding the way, the truth and the life.

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Fullness: Real … January 27, 2013

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Words come and go.

I remember when saying “groovy” really was groovy. Being declared “hip” was not a replacement for anything. And “far out” was actually the next-door neighbor to “cool.”

So if I can shake your memory to a time when the phrase “keep it real” was considered to be the groovy, hip, far-out, cool phrase of the day–I’m sorry to see that one go.

It wasn’t “BE real” or even “GET real,” but rather, doffed its tiny beanie of popularity to the fact that we have a job–to KEEP it real. It is really quite natural to do so if you understand all of your parts and instead of using them against one another, you form them into a team. After all, teaching human beings that we have a warring nature which is always trying to bring us down and keep us from our better selves may be the fad of the day, but it traps us in our inadequacies and fears instead of throwing us a rope to pull ourselves out of the pit of hell.

Let’s just take what we’ve learned over the past few days. (If you haven’t learned anything, let’s just take what I’ve said.) It begins with emotions–allowing ourselves to feel. We get the ball rolling by giving ourselves a permission slip to be touched by infirmities–both your own and others and admitting that we get tempted like everybody else. Is there anything more annoying than the wanker who always says, “I never feel that way…” or “Chocolate chip cookies? Ooh. They’re too sweet.” (Somehow or another, I think God just forgives us for silently plotting his death.) Everything begins with “feel.”

It is only then that we are prepared to kneel without being forced to do so or repeating what everybody is doing in a line at the altar. We kneel to worship. What do we worship? Spirit and truth. Candidly, there is much to consider spiritually which I will NEVER pursue because I just don’t find it of any earthly use. This may limit my after-life education, but I guess I don’t mind picking up a few extra classes in heaven, since I have all of eternity to complete my degree. Things that touch our soul should have spirit and truth. If they’re spiritual they’re going to be truthful; and if they’re truthful, you will find some spirituality in them.

So after we spend some time feeling and kneeling, we’re ready to move up to the penthouse, the human brain, and set in motion some healing. I don’t think I’m alone when I say that my upbringing, schooling and adolescence left behind some pretty huge mind-scars. I did get my mind blown several times–and not in a good way. I need some healing–or I will start thinking I know everything I need to know and cease to learn what will actually make me smarter and easier to get along with.

Unfortunately, as we discussed, our thinkers are not learning and our learners are not thinking. You get healed when you realize that the gray matter located in your cranium is not only supposed to think, pumping out what it knows, but also start learning what is being pumped out by what other people think.

What a great journey so far–we let ourselves feel instead of hiding behind bad moods, calling them “a poor night’s sleep.” We let ourselves kneel by taking spirit and truth into our lives as worship instead of grabbing off the fast food menu of religion with a crust of bread and a sip of wine. This allows us to renew our minds and gives that magnificent human computer the opportunity to think and learn, which heals us.

Then we’re ready to go out and deal with the world and DO AS: do the things we dream to do but perform them as if we were our own customer–give quality to our actions equivalent to our own standards. Then, instead of complaining about our lot, we deal with it. We realize that preparing is much more important than planning.

Having the right attitude when you show up makes it so much easier to change when your goals are rejected at the door. Suddenly we develop a reputation for being real. We start hearing folks say, “You’re just so real…” They tender stories us about individuals they know who are “so fake.” And all we’ve done to get this magnitude of appreciation is ask our little shift of workers, which show up at our human factory every day, to unite together in a common cause instead of pretending that each one of them owns the company.

• Feel
• Kneel
• Heal
• Deal
• And then, keep it real

You’ve reached the fullness.

There you go. Try it out and if it doesn’t work for you, realize that I’m just me. There is no money-back guarantee–because you didn’t give me any money. But if it does work, share it with somebody else and let’s see if we can’t free ourselves from the blandness that just seems to welcome insanity.

P.S.  Happy fourteenth birthday to my granddaughter, Isabella.

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