G-Poppers … August 19th, 2016

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As G-Pop sits down to write one of his children, he is suddenly aware that tears have come to his eyes, threatening to dribble down his cheeks.

He does not know why. Oh, he has some ideas–and in the midst of his own joyful pursuits, there is an aching sadness threatening his sense of well-being.

Yet he feels like an old fool.

Yes, G-Pop thinks if he shares his heart and the ache within, he will be viewed as some relic from the past. But the pain will not go away and his personal convictions persist.

The source of his tears is really simple. G-Pop just wants to know: where are all the good guys? And gals, for that matter?

Where are the people who take it for granted that loving your neighbor is essential instead of merely the duty of monks?

Where are the human beings who value the truth instead of acquiescing to deceit?

Where are the Olympic athletes who feel grateful for the opportunity to train and represent our country instead of tearing apart a bathroom and lying about their ordeal?

Where is a President who feels the confidence to tell his countrymen the complete truth concerning a transaction with Iran, hoping in his heart that they will understand his motivations and the difficulty of his choices?

Where are the people running for President who would rather lose than perpetuate a scandal?

Where is the sense of commonality among brothers and sisters that compels them to respect one another’s rights?

It is a worrisome thing.

It is difficult to live in a day and age when viewing pornography is accepted as a passing fancy instead of a weakness of character.

G-Pop feels ridiculous sprouting tears. He doesn’t want to be considered irrelevant.

But he fears hypocrisy.

For after all, lying is not really accepted. If you lie to your boss, you’ll lose your job. If you lie to a policeman, you’ll get arrested. And if you lie to your spouse about being unfaithful, you can pretty well guarantee a divorce.

Lying is on the march–trying to conquer honesty.

Can we stop it?

Can we find the good guys and gals?

G-Pop wonders.

Maybe it begins by humbly, carefully and faithfully trying to be one yourself.

 

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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 13) The Back Door… July 24th, 2016

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“I know what you want to hear, and honest to God, I’d love to give it to you. Matter of fact, I must have picked up the phone half a dozen times this week, to call one of you and share my heart and feel comforted by your listening ears and what I’m sure would have been your kind words.

But I can’t.”

(A universal frown emerged on the collective countenance of the congregation.)

Meningsbee continued.

“I want to, but do you understand? There are things more important than what I want. Things more important than what you want. I can tell you that I went to Sammy Collins’ house on Monday night–made my famous beans and weenies–and prepared for whatever God would set before me. Patrick was there but no one else. I mean, Sammy and his wife were there, but that was it.”

(A deeper frown)

“You’re going to want to know why, or maybe you already know and I’m just being stupid here. Maybe you heard a lot more than I think. But I can’t share without betraying what I believe, what I hold dear and what makes me who I am.

I don’t think I’ve ever explained to you about my faith. I mean, I’ve shared it with you, but probably never explained it. Since none of us know what really happens when we die, everything we talk about in this sanctuary is theory. There are Christians who believe they’re right no matter what, but since no one has gone beyond death and come back with a completely unbiased report, we’re really doing this whole thing grasping at the air.

Can I be honest? It’s why lots of people give up.Their desire to be something or do something suddenly exceeds their comprehension of belief, so they split the scene.

Listen, I made my peace with God a long time ago by making sure that if He doesn’t exist, it doesn’t make any difference to me.

You might think I’m getting off the subject. Maybe I am. But really, it’s all the same point. I can’t tell you what happened at Sammy Collins’ house because it goes against who I am–who I’ve decided to be. Who I think I need to be to make sense to me.

You see, I sat down one day and decided what I would need to be if there were no God or heaven. I would still need to make a case for myself. After all, I’m here. Whether it was a miracle of creation or a process of evolution–TA-DA! Behold, I have arrived.

Even if I found out that God was all made up, I would have to include people. They’re around, you know. Except on Monday night at Sammy’s house.”

(A refreshing, hearty laugh.)

“You can’t live without running into folks. So you should make sure the cushion you keep between you and them prevents bruising.

And also, daggone it, while I’m here I might as well be creative. If you’re going to do everything the same all the time, you’re going to start hoping for heaven, which… Well, you know. We’re not sure.

And I’ve always believed in respecting life. If it’s alive, it deserves a chance.

See, I call this my back door. When I get discouraged or you guys piss me off, I go there–to that back door–and I open it up and I imagine a world without God and realize that it still would require His spirit. Does that make sense to you?

Well anyway, much as I would like to tell you my story and share my disappointment, I can’t. Because the God that’s in my heart is certainly real, whether the God of the Universe is or not.

You know, it’s funny. I’ve never told this to anyone before. I’ve never spoken it out loud–mainly because I thought it made me look like a freakin’ atheist. I’m not, though. I believe it all. I’m just ready, in case it’s not exactly what’s been advertised. I’m prepared to make sure that the things I would have done get done. And one of the things is to keep what happened Monday night to myself.

If it’s any comfort, if I was going to tell anybody, it sure would be you cool dudes.”

Everybody laughed.

But then something strange happened. Two or three, and then five or ten people rose to their feet, came up and hugged Meningsbee with tears in their eyes.

The emotion he had been holding back all week long suddenly burst, and the good reverend fell to his knees, weeping.

The rest of the congregation joined the others around him, sprouting their own tears. Even four or five visitors stood on the perimeter with misty eyes.

Reverend Richard Meningsbee didn’t ponder what was happening.

He just let it happen.

 

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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 7) Toothy … June 12th, 2016

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• Why do we come to church?
• Do we need music?
• If so, are there certain instruments that are more church-acceptable?
• What about silence?
• Are our lives enriched by sermons?
• What is the purpose of an offering?
• How about the choir?
• Is liturgy good–or just repetitious?

The questions had been posed all morning long, and Reverend Meningsbee sat back listening, only contributing if asked or if there was the need to clarify a point.

The attendance was good. Amazingly, most of the visitors had returned, and even a few of those who had left the flock were back in the corral.

But the most outstanding moment of this week’s service happened when Maxwell, one of the few teenagers remaining in the church, came forward to sit in the chair for prayer because he had a toothache.

It was such an amazing sight to behold–a young man who normally perched in the back pew, fondling his phone, texting friends–made his way to the front in the belief that the supplications of the congregation might bring him relief.

And it did. At least, he said he felt better.

Meningsbee was astounded at how the people were taking the moment of fellowship and turning it into common benefit.

Near the end of the discussion, one of the older members of the church stood to her feet and said, “I think we all agree that whatever we do in the church, it should be to worship God, because that’s why we’re here.”

There was a general rumble and assent of “amens” from all present.

Meningsbee paused. He wondered if it was time for him to offer insight, or to just leave the moment alone for later instruction.

No time like the present.

He stood to his feet and walked to the front of the sanctuary. Turning slowly, he spoke.

“I know what our dear sister just said seems right. We have been taught–shoot, it’s literally been infused in us–that we’re here to praise God, express our reverence, and leave with a sense of awe about how big and wonderful He truly is. But I came to town so we could have a Jesus church, and Jesus made it clear that God was not interested in worship that was born merely of affirming His goodness. Jesus put it this way: Man was not created for the Sabbath. The Sabbath was created for man. And by Sabbath, he was certainly referring in part to our weekly gathering in church. So the real question we’re asking today is, and always will be, what is best for us humans to grow as we gather to acknowledge a common faith? Remember what I said last week–what is going to give us full life and full joy? Whatever that is–well, that will be worship.”

Meningsbee thought his message was simple, but for some reason it touched the hearts of all those gathered. Many cried aloud and others sprouted silent tears.

Meningsbee, looking at the scene before him, wept.

It felt so good to be honest about church. It was delightful to be around those who weren’t afraid to feel.

All at once, Maxwell, who had come with a toothache, started sweetly singing, “Jesus Loves Me.”

Everyone joined in.

Yes–everyone joined in.

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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 3) Go Before You Come … May 15th, 2016

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Monday, between 10:00 A. M. and 2:00 P. M., twenty-three calls came into the Garsonville church.

Two were positive.

The other twenty-one fell into three categories:

1. “Our family has sat on that same pew for three generations.”
2. “I don’t think it’s good for us to sit so close together, especially during flu season.”
3. “It’s a free country. No one’s gonna tell me where I can sit.”

So it was no big surprise when the next Sunday rolled around and fifteen less faithful attended the worship service.

Once again, they were handed a half-sheet as a bulletin, and the information was much the same, except that this week’s thought was taken from Matthew the 5th Chapter, verses 23-24.

After the requested hymn, “Stand Up for Jesus,” was sung, the pastor pulled up a chair, sat down, and addressed the congregated.

“Thank you all for being here. Thank you all for being faithful. Thank you all for remaining close. God wants His house full. From where we’re sitting, it looks pretty stuffed. There’s plenty of room to the rear, but that is a matter for the leading of the Spirit and time.

But the next thing that makes us a ‘Jesus church’ is found in Matthew 5:23-24.

We have to stop believing that coming here is about worshipping God instead of honoring God by how we fellowship, enjoy each other and how we treat our brothers and sisters.

In this little piece from the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus makes a very simple point. He says don’t smugly come to church if you know there’s somebody who’s angry with you.

He doesn’t say it’s about us being angry with them. But sometimes other folks get mad at us. We don’t always understand why, so we hope it blows over, or even pray that they’ll grow up.

Church is not about God. It’s about people.

So in a few moments we’re going to have a season of silence with our heads bowed. I want you to do something for me–actually, for yourself. If you know there’s somebody who’s upset with you or if you have an unresolved conflict, or you’ve heard that someone is offended, I want you to get up from your seat, and before you go home, stop off, see them and make your peace, so when you come back here next week you will be reconciled with them and you’ll have a great story to share.”

It would be difficult to describe the collective expression on the faces of the gathered. Although they comprehended Meningsbee’s message, application seemed a little awkward, or maybe even intrusive.

Yet when silence ensued and heads were bowed, twelve people rose to their feet and departed the sanctuary to find the soul that was miffed.

When the rest of the folks opened their eyes, Reverend Meningsbee asked if anyone had a testimony of how reconciliation had already been achieved.

There were four shining examples, a closing prayer, and everyone was on their way.

Although it was a very tiny group that still remained, there was a warmth, gentleness and simplicity in the hearts of each one–with a tear or two in view.

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Jesonian: Ten Ways to Be Human, Humanely … March 2, 2014

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1. I’m not very spiritual, but I want to be.

2. I want to shed tears for something other than my disappointments.

3. I need to get what I want without hurting anyone else.

4. I desire to be hungry for life and thirsty for God all at the same time.

5. I yearn to be merciful because I need mercy.

6.  I will work to have an honest heart filled with the hope of the divine.

7. I am looking for reasons to get along with people.

8. I am no longer afraid of being criticized for standing up for what I believe is right.

9. I know some people will love me, and some won’t.

10. I will rejoice because there is nothing that can rob me of my soul.

(From Matthew 5: 1-12)

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Moved… January 29, 2013

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“It’s a scam!”

She was determined to inform me of my pending idiocy by interrupting a conversation I was having with a young father and his little daughter out in front of a Wal-Mart. The two of them had stopped me as I was exiting the establishment, explaining that they were without a home and needed some money for food.

The lady who had decided to interject her opinion into the situation glared at the pair begging for money and punctuated her warning by saying to the father, “Why don’t you get a job?”

Fortunately, she glided away on her magic carpet of self-righteousness. The little girl hung her head and the father rose to his feet as if he was going to follow. I held my hand up, motioning to him to stop.

“Now, where were we?” I said, calming their spirits.

Here’s the truth, my dear friends. I don’t care if it’s a scam.

I don’t care if the drunk on the street is getting a buck off of me to buy the cheapest Ripple in the local liquor store. I don’t care if the fellow with the elaborate story concerning his broken-down car, which needs a five dollar repair, is just a way to boost cash from me. The transactions which happen between human beings are not investments and therefore do not require brokers. It is not necessary for us to determine the validity of the need.

In this country we are continually stumping about the need for compassion. But you see, compassion is completely impossible if you’ve closed all the doors to your human heart which might allow you to be moved.

Americans do not lack compassion–we have just been trained to be cynical and are nearly incapable of being moved. Honestly, folks, if you’re not moved, you will never be able to tap the root of your compassion. Every day of my life is that pursuit — working very hard to unload the boxes of my burdens, prejudices, anger and frustration so that compassion can move freely through my human space.

I occasionally will purposely get up very early in the morning, before dawn, to see if I still have the tenderness to be moved by the rising sun.

I will sit in my van and listen to music that gentles my spirit to allow the tears to flow freely.

I practice being moved because without that training, I am vacant of compassion.

Here are two sentences I complete in every situation:

1. “If it were me…” Honestly I did not see a man and his young daughter in front of the store. No, I saw myself thirty-eight years ago, having just been evicted from an apartment and not knowing where to go, desperately needing someone to purchase a pint of blackberries I had picked, granting me a few quarters to buy bread and bologna. I recalled that sensation and it moved me. Candidly, I will never be moved by the plight of others unless I am able to insert myself into the situation.

2. “If I don’t…” In other words, if I don’t fill the gap, do I really think there is someone possessing more generosity than me, who will come along and help these people out with something other than useless advice about needful employment? I often realize I cannot trust my society to be compassionate. The burden is mine. So therefore I have deed and title to the blessing.

• If it were me…
• If I don’t…

Run those two through your mind before you carelessly walk away. You’ll stop worrying about whether things are scams and become more concerned about faltering over an opportunity to be truly human.

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