The B. S. M. G. Report


Jonathots Daily Blog

(4232)

Avoiding becoming insane

But never wanting to complain

BAD

TUA much.

A young man sprawls on the ground, broken, writhing in pain, as thousands of people watch in horror, torn between sympathy for him and fear over what this might mean in pursuing a national championship.

One week earlier, the same fellow played in a game twenty days after having ankle surgery, limping and agonizing along to his team’s defeat.

He needed time.

Don’t we all?

How many of us are eager to go back to work on the sixth day after a cold?

Do any of us want to walk across a room and get a cup of juice after having stubbed our toe?

But for some reason—a very bad reason—selfish, greedy, older men (and maybe women) who are long past their prime, want to relive their youth on the backs and bodies of determined athletes.

It’s TUA much.

It’s TUA much to ask of anyone.

Let’s not blame the coach of Alabama.

Let us admit that we are the ones who pressured him into accepting the erroneous decision of a novice young man when he proclaimed, “Put me in, Coach. I’m ready to play.”

SAD

Working off the answers to find the questions. Truthfully, it’s what human beings are better suited for in the long run.

Maybe that was on Merv Griffin’s mind when he launched a television game show called, “Jeopardy!”

After a very short season, he hired Alex Trebek to be the host.

Alex is the over-stated, ever-loving geek who sometimes—even as you want to hug him with delight—causes you to roll your eyes over his pretentious attempts to utter foreign words in an exaggerated accent, insert little mentions of his world travels or become perturbed when some contestant fails to understand that every answer was to begin with an “O.”

Despite his quirks, we love him.

And when he read, “A fourth-stage disease which requires immediate treatment but is also terminal,” he filled in the answer to: What is Alex Trebek’s cancer diagnosis?

It’s ridiculous to think the world won’t go on without Alex Trebek (or any of us, for that matter).

It just won’t be quite as delightful.

MAD

The Muddle East.

I have often told my children to always try to find a second reason for everything they do. It takes away some of the pressure of thinking that you’re hanging on a limb by one twig.

So with that in mind, if you aren’t convinced of climate change and the need to back off fossil fuels, then consider this second reason:

To keep us out of a region of our world filled with religious fanatics, nationalists and misogynists:  The Middle (or as I stated it)—the Muddle East.

It is not a Holy Land.

Rather, it is a soulless, arid climate, manufacturing despair as its only byproduct.

It offers nothing to us but war.

And although it is true that oil and water do not mix, neither do oil and blood.

GLAD

I am tickled pink with rosy cheeks at the prospect of more candidates entering the Presidential campaign. I find myself overjoyed and grateful.

We are closing the door too quickly on the elevator heading up to the Oval Office.

Let’s leave it open.

Why can’t we learn from our very recent error? You know what I’m talking about:

Just three short years ago, when we were convinced that one candidate had the right to be elected President simply because she was a woman and had a predominant name.

And that another fellow was worthy of the White House because he scored high ratings on a reality television show and was fairly adept at hotel placement.

Let us not be foolish.

President of the United States is a calling.

It is a position which requires a human being to free him or herself of the ego of actually wanting the job.

 

 

Sit Down Comedy …March 15th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3985)


There were a few citizens of Springfield, Illinois, who were surprised when the city council did not nominate Maggie and Carl Johnson for consideration as “Parents of the Decade.” There were four nominations in all, but Maggie and Carl were not included.

The long arm of their charitable deeds had stretched across the entire townscape. Their oldest son was a banker, a daughter was a doctor, another daughter a lawyer, and a son was a Captain in the Marines. They seemed perfectly poised to take the prize.

But for many in the capital city, they were disqualified because their youngest son had raped and murdered nine women.

Even though it was common knowledge that he was inflamed by chemical addiction and haunted by mental illness, it still seemed inappropriate to the town fathers to grant Maggie and Carl consideration.

Likewise, two nights ago, I walked into my kitchen and smelled something. I followed my nose on a merry chase, and finally ended up standing over the garbage can, which obviously had something in it that was rotten and wanted the whole house to know. Even though the garbage bag was only a quarter filled, I yanked it out, tied it up and took it and threw it in the trash. It might have seemed rash and the waste of a still-productive garbage bag, but the odor made me do it.

The Christian faith must be prepared, along with its gospel of grace and kindly parables of Jesus, to understand that when humanity assesses the faith, the nasty deeds of the faltering fingertips of offending Catholic priests and the racial bigotry and violence of white supremacists who will swear on a stack of Bibles that “they did it all in Jesus’ name” will certainly need to be stirred in.

When we march around on July 4th, remembering the founding of our country, no truthful telling of the United States can be made without strolling through the back alley of our treatment of the Native Americans, the African-Americans and also a look into the rancid nature of our politics.

Dare I say that I will gladly join you on a quest to find the “good Muslims” if you will freely admit to me that the “bad Muslims” seem to have grabbed the microphone and are doing most of the talking for Mohamed’s children.

There are leaders, missions, governments, and faiths. They are led by human beings who make mistakes. This is not terminal. It’s not even deadly. But when those errors are hidden beneath a campaign to extol only the goodness of the endeavor, then Jesus warns us that it’s like splatting a coat of white paint on the outside of a grave.

We must all understand that the truth about us is what we believe minus what we do, with who we really are being the sum that remains.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … May 20th, 2015

   Jonathots Daily Blog

(2586)

PoHymn May 20

A Guest At My Own Funeral

I would love to attend my funeral

If I didn’t have to be terminal

Listening to what people say

When it truly is my grave day

Wondering if they would “rock it out”

Or sob like babies, whining some doubt

About the way they treated my feelings

In all the fussy personal dealings.

Would their tears make me cry?

Or eulogies contain some lie?

About my festering needs

Instead of “me more noble deeds”

For dying lasts a good long while

Stuffing in your butt–a painted smile

Please someone let loose and weep

Get good flowers, don’t go cheap

Prove that I was your favorite me

Make me more than I appeared to be

Because I’m meeting God on high

He knows my what, where, when and why

Send me off with words so kind

And ignore the occasions I lost my mind. 

 

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When Living Stops and Breathing Continues … November 11, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2064)

Aerosol oxygen mask on patient“I just don’t know what to do!”

Be careful.

This statement is not a question. When you hear people speak it aloud, do not assume they are looking for counsel.

Rather, it is a proclamation–a surrender.

Too many individuals have given up on the idea of happiness as being childish and immature, and have settled in to try to achieve contented breathing. They have become so involved with forgiving others, their calling or being overwhelmed with responsibility that they have ceased to pursue the idea of being happy.

Matter of fact, in our art and literature we often decry such an emotion. We like to take people who act happy and portray them as inexperienced and unaware.

But I’m curious–if happiness is not the goal of our earth journey, then why do we think we would be comfortable with it in the afterlife? Wouldn’t we find it unusual? Perhaps redundant? Or would we continue, in eternity, to consider happiness to be “unrealistic” and keep waiting for the sky to fall on us?

If you don’t start believing in happiness now, you will never be allowed to have happiness forever.

So what can you do when the process of forgiving other people and yourself, or pursuing your job and calling with its responsibilities, has sapped all the maple out of your syrup?

Every day of your life, make sure of three things:

1. I am involved in my own choices.

Never sacrifice your ability to decide to either God or man. We gain power, intelligence and creativity when we allow ourselves the privilege of stopping, considering, concluding and moving out on an idea born of our own spirit.

2. I feel joy, which brings strength.

I will take a moment every single day to make sure that I allow joy to be a part of my experience. What is joy? It’s the knowledge that God has everything under control. And what is that control? Nothing can separate us from His love–therefore there is nothing which is truly terminal.

3. I am moving toward what is proving itself to be fruitful.

When I lived in Tennessee we had a tree in our front yard that was proclaimed by the former owners to be a pear tree. Here’s the problem: it never produced pears. I caught myself one day telling a visitor that it was a pear tree. Then I paused, took a deep breath, and said, “Honestly, I don’t know WHAT kind of tree it is. But one thing for certain–it’s NOT a pear tree.”

If your tree isn’t making pears, don’t think that next year will be any better. Pursue what is fruitful, even if it is not immediately to your preference. In the long run you will enjoy success much more than tradition.

  • We must continue to forgive.
  • We should pursue our calling.
  • And taking responsibility for our life is essential for maturity.

But when these three things rob us of joy, turning us into mere “breathing organisms,” we need to restore our choices, regain our strength and pursue our fruit.

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Austin Without Limits … July 13, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(1942)

First United Methodist Church BuildingThe 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.spam

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 everythinghow 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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