Catchy (Sitting 54) Meanwhile… June 24th, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3713)

The city council of Sunbury, Ohio set aside a parcel of land for those who wanted to come and commemorate spiritual renewal. It became known as “Soulsbury North.”

Likewise, outside Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, a wooded area was sanctified for similar purpose. “Soulsbury East.”

And just south of Eureka, California, people gathered, worked together and put together “Soulsbury West.”

One newspaper referred to the movement as “The New Awakening.” Historically there had been a “Great Awakening” in America in the mid-eighteenth century, but the current reformation was characterized by true questioning and a desire for humility.

Simultaneously, Jasper Carlos, who was floating on his newly found fame, turned out to be a stand-up comedian. He started touring the country and recorded a live album entitled, “We Made the Devil Do It.”

Possessing the same charismatic personality as his brother Jubal, but peppered with great jokes and antics, he was soon filling halls, sharing a message similar to his twin brother–just with lots of laughs and knee slaps.

Former Congressman Michael Hinston met a woman in Salisbury who happened to be a Lutheran minister. He fell in love, and was so careful to make sure that he wasn’t foolishly rebounding that he nearly scared her away. Fortunately, friends at the Soulsbury camp held them together, and lay wedding was in the future.

Matthew developed a severe liver infection which placed him in the hospital for nearly two weeks. The doctors weren’t certain of the origin, but Matthew was pretty sure that it must have come from some bootleg tequilla purchased in a backroom casino. Normally when people are in the hospital, they take the time to reflect on their lives. Matthew, on the other hand, used the occasion to daily expose the foolishness of the medical field. Soos flew in to be his personal nurse, and also prevent him from being justifiably poisoned by one of the nurses or hospital cafeteria staff.

Fifteen installments of the story of Jubal Carlos were aired on the NBC affiliate over the next thirty days. The nation was transfixed over the comings and goings of their new national prophet. Of course, Jubal, wearing heels, a gorgeous black wig and a great make-up job, found it easy to do the special about himself, since he was quite privy to the subject matter.

One of the surprises of the show was an interview with Jubal’s mother, Jenesca. She was not an old woman since she had the triplets very early. So not quite yet fifty years of age, she was filled with spunk and vinegar, and offered some insight on the life and times of the two remaining sons.

She offered a heart-wrenching tale of the death of Jamison. She described his loss as if stirring in the middle of the night, sensing that she’d lost all air and breath, except it happened during the day.

And meanwhile, in Washington, D. C., Thomas Kinear climbed into a black sedan with Charmaine Donaldson and headed for the Capitol building. Charmaine was an FBI agent-gone-rogue in pursuit of what she believed to be a noble cause. Thomas was a patriot–at least he deemed himself to be–and had made a decision to strike out for the cause of the American Constitution and liberty throughout the world.

Arriving at the Capitol, Charmaine knew of an entrance not normally frequented by either diplomats or the public. Thomas climbed out of the car wearing a cowboy hat and serape, and grabbed a machine gun from the trunk, tucking it under his garments as they slowly walked to the private entrance.

Charmaine stared deeply into his eyes. Thomas gazed back at her and replied, “Yes. I’m sure. Are you?”

She quickly nodded and they covered the distance to the door. Finding it locked. Charmaine reached over and opened a window, saying, “I left it open just in case.”

Thomas winked. “Professional.”

They stepped in, made their way through a small library and into the main hall, scurrying toward the rotunda.

 

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation for this inspirational opportunity

Jesonian … June 23rd, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3712)

“He turned the water into wine.”

Let’s just stop and think about that. Jesus had a cousin named John, who took a Nazarite vow. No liquor.

A very popular religious cult of the time, the Essenes, also were teetotalers.

Even though many historians will note that wine was a common drink of the masses, it was often considered forbidden–actually uncommon among those who deemed themselves religious–especially if you were just starting a movement.

What were you trying to communicate? After all, water is the symbol of life–to such an extent that we often refer to “the water of God’s word.”

Why would Jesus care that a young married couple ran out of wine during their reception? What was that to him?

To me, the message is clear. Water is what you drink when you’re thirsty. Wine is what you select when you want to get buzzed.

A transition was in order. A New Testament was about to be unleashed on the world. What better symbolism than to make it clear that water–in other words, our lives–was meant to be wine, thus intoxicating?

No longer were we to merely survive, but celebrate.

It wasn’t an issue of sustaining our beings, but rather, imbibe by getting drunk on the Spirit.

You don’t have to go any further than the commands he gave to the servants, who were to set the miracle in motion.

1. “Fill it to the brim.”

Six water pots in all, holding at least fifteen gallons each. So we’re talking about ninety gallons of wine. This was not a gift to “finish up the party.” Rather, it was an inclination to keep the party going.

2. “Pour it out.”

Get it into people’s cups. Don’t display it. Don’t revere it. Don’t call it “holy wine.” This is drinking vino. This wine is for the purpose of people “rejoicing and being exceedingly glad.” No longer are our lives supposed to be watered down, but instead, juiced up.

3. “Make it the best.”

Jesus told the servants to take the wine to the governor of the feast, who sardonically panned, “Usually at these weddings they bring out the crappy wine at the end. But you’ve saved the best for last.”

What is crappy wine? It’s wine that is either freshly-squeezed grape juice, or so old that it’s almost turned to vinegar.

There’s a message here–we need to stop acting like we’re grape juice–pure and without sin–or that we’re turning into vinegar in our pews because we’re so soured by our life and our experiences.

Taste good.

Inebriate.

It was the message of Cana of Galilee.

You don’t start a revolution by walking away from a wedding feast, refusing to make wine over spiritual pettiness.

You create an international revival by being the one who has the sense, at the right moment, to put the “juice on the loose.”

 

*****

If you like the mind of Jesus without religion, buy the book!

                $7.99 plus S&H

*******

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

Untotaled: Sitting 60 (September 24th, 1970) A Spartan Start … March 28, 2015

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2545)

(Transcript)

We figured $25.00 was going to be enough.

Actually, it had to be. That’s all the money we had left. My  girlfriend’s dad had closed the bank account in Arizona, poaching our nest egg.

We climbed into our old Chevy, which the guy at a local gas station told us had no chance of making it on a long trip, and set off for North Carolina, where people of our age were allowed to get married without a parent’s approval.

Along the way, we had a blow-out of one of our tires, which is what the old bald culprits do when they reach the end of their lives. So that took $5.00 we didn’t expect.

We crossed the border of North Carolina and the first town we came to was Sparta. We found a motel, which cost an additional $7.00, and accounting for the gasoline, brought our entire kitty down to a disconcerting $8.34.

We went to the United Methodist Church in town, where the pastor agreed to marry us and even brought his wife over to witness the event. So in a large sanctuary which echoed when we talked, the lady and myself became the traditional “husband and wife.”

I didn’t have any money to give to the preacher. I was embarrassed, but young enough to quickly get over it.

We had to eat, so we went to a local diner as newlyweds and ordered exactly $3.34 worth of food, including tax.

We shared with the waitress and the cook about our nuptials, and out of the kindness of their heart, they donated the meal to us.

We both cried. It seemed like a long time since we had felt a tickle of love from human fingers.

We went back to the motel, and for the first time as legal before God and Caesar, we made love.

We had decided on the drive down to North Carolina not to return to Ohio. We realized that sooner or later we were going to have to tell people that my new wife was pregnant–and we would just rather do that with a new batch of folks, who just might maintain some original politeness.

I had a friend in Kentucky who was starting a church after his Bible College experience. He invited us to come there and spend a week or so, and have…well, have our honeymoon.

So we drove up to Kentucky, spending our last 75 cents on gasoline about thirty miles from our destination, only to discover that there was a bridge which went across the river to the little town…that had a toll.

One dime.

We didn’t have it.

So I rolled up to the toll-keeper and explained our situation. The old man reached into his pocket, pulled out a dime and dropped it into the container and said, “Consider it a wedding gift. Good luck to you both.”

We crossed the bridge to our new life…on the grace and generosity of a stranger.

 

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

click above for information on 567!

 

Mistaken Identity … November 28, 2012

(1,713)

It happens–just never twice in the same night.

But last evening I got a double dose of mistaken identity. It began with a lady coming to my table and asking that frightening question. “Do you remember me?”

I always dodge it by saying, “You look familiar,” hoping that the person will fill in the details. She did. She was quite convinced that I had been the DJ at her son’s wedding. As I contemplated how to contradict her assertion, she launched into details about the reception, the recent birth of children and what name these offspring referred to her as when lovingly addressing their grandma. We were in the full swing of a mistaken identity–one which I had no idea whatsoever how to escape. So please pray for me–I went along with it.

She came back two or three times, reminding me of certain aspects of the evening which she felt we had shared in common, and once even brought along the sponsor of the concert, to share the irony of our re-crossing paths. He looked a bit bewildered as she told her story and squinted at me for either confirmation or denial and I just sat there with a blank look on my face–similar to someone who just discovered he was one number away from winning the lottery.

On the heels of my proposed DJ performance, another man came to the table and said how glad he was to see me again, because he had enjoyed me so much last year when I was performing at the Lexington Civic Center. Once again, before I could jump in and point out that I had never been to the Lexington Civic Center, he recited the details of my performance, including a duet I had sung with a young black boy. Once again, I was unable to escape and found myself in the midst of a great nod-fest.

Mistaken identity. I know I probably should have corrected these folks, but you see, at the heart of this particular event is a blessing. People meet you for the first time and really want to establish a connection, so they go ahead and manufacture one based on a similar experience they once had with someone who might have resembled you. I think it’s just a way of saying “I love you” without having to mouth the words.

Matter of fact, maybe the world would be better if we had MORE mistaken identity. If all bigots believed that black people were Denzel Washington and Oprah Winfrey, maybe there would be less prejudice. Those who have problems with the gay community may wish to project that all gay men and women are Rock Hudson and Ellen DeGeneres. How about politics? That’s easy.  All Republicans are Abraham Lincoln and all Democrats are Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

It may be a bit embarrassing when we do discover that all people with long hair, playing guitar are not the Beatles, but in the meantime, it might increase our toleration for one another and project some love out into a world that is starving to death for some of that good stuff.

I occasionally get mistaken for someone else.  Last night it was a DJ and a performer at a civic center. That’s not bad.  It has been worse. One night long ago in Michigan, a guy was convinced that I was the janitor at the local Goodwill store.  By the way–that one I denied. Sometimes people project that I’m Orson Wells or Dom Delouise or any one of a number of fat, aging men. Interesting though–so far, no Brad Pitt.

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