Catchy (Sitting 25) I’ll Fly Away (Old Glory) … December 3rd, 2017

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Turns out a new Lear jet cost twenty million dollars.

Matthew discovered this alarming fact because Jubal wanted to purchase one.

Amazingly, a Las Vegas businessman, Bob O’Connell, who was totally intrigued with the notion of popularizing Jesus, offered his used Lear jet with only 1,020 landings, for a reasonable twelve million.

Jubal insisted that Matthew snatch it up. Mr. Carlos had an idea. He decided the key was to take the same message to the same people if you wanted the same results. For after all, Jesus made the point that his campaign hid the contents of the mission from the wise and prudent souls of the time and delivered it unto the common man and woman.

So Jubal wanted to rise every morning at 5:30 A. M. and fly the Lear jet into small towns all over America, to hold lunch-time rallies in the biggest park close to the landing spot, giving away free hamburgers and cokes, playing great music, and delivering an inspiring piece of Gospel.

After these rallies, which were to be completely spontaneous with no one knowing where the next one would be from day-to-day, Jubal and his entourage would get back on the jet and fly back to Vegas for a nighttime meeting in Clark County.

They located an abandoned warehouse, which they purchased for $120,000, and were able to suit it up as a decent, but rustic, auditorium for another hundred grand. It was called “The We House”–and it was a place for souls to gather to find simplicity and abundant joy.

Town after town was selected for the daytime rallies:

• Bismark, North Dakota.
• Butte, Montana
• Cheyenne, Wyoming
• Traverse City, Michigan
• Bangor, Maine
• Waco, Texas

Jubal, Matthew and the band, along with a couple of extra wives and friends, used the plane trips to sleep and rest coming and going, and used the energy from the towns to rejuvenate their spirits.

Whenever they landed in a community, the local hamburger establishments jockeyed for the right to offer their burgers to the populace.

Jubal Carlos had a phrase which he passed onto all these budding entrepreneurs who were trying to get in on the ground floor of a good idea and promote their product at the same time. His response was always the same: “Thank you for your products, but no thank you. We shall not promote you.”

Amazingly, this didn’t seem to make any difference. Hamburger and coke people begged to be part of the unfolding.

Posted on the Lear jet was a series of “NOs”:

NO sponsors

NO bitching

NO divas

NO give-up

NO drugs

And NO interviews

Yes, this was an intricate part of Jubal’s plan. Under no circumstances were any people to talk to the press, conduct any interviews or answer a question from those with journalistic intentions. Although there was a feeding frenzy for data, Jubal and the gang remained mum.

It didn’t take long. People began speculating on the location of the next day’s noontime meeting. When a rumor sprouted that Jubal was spontaneously showing up at some church in America once a week on Sunday morning, church attendance suddenly spiked, with many hoping they would accidentally stumble on the musician/prophet.

And the evening sessions at “The We House”–often conducted in candlelight–were rich with emotion, tuneful and carried a mingling of melancholy and joy which nearly struck one down with its gentleness upon entering the room.

Four weeks into the promotion, news reports started to circulate about the past history of band members or how some girl had infiltrated the troop as a groupie to gain a sexual rendezvous with the nation’s now most famous drummer.

This worried Matthew–but Jubal’s answer was easy. “We’ll put out daily press releases about our weaknesses. Each member of the band, each person in the entourage, will confess one of their faults or sins and release it over social media long before the press can pounce on it.”

At first people were interested in the flaws of the Lear Jet Revival membership. After that, they thought it was silly, and eventually everyone got bored with finding out the sins of the travelers, which were not that dissimilar from their own.

Church attendance continued to climb.

News organizations were offering hundreds of thousands of dollars for any interview with staff from the movement.

And people were becoming sensitized to the relaxation, simplicity and immersion in joy.

Matthew marveled. Jubal was breaking every rule of Madison Avenue, but was promoting better than any organization or corporation he had ever seen.

If anything became complicated, they just stopped, thought and prayed until it got easier. If anybody attacked them, they agreed with the truthful parts and ignored the foul.

Two months in, the country was stirred and stalled by this mixture of rallies and evening meetings. People began to hop into their motor homes, cross the country and camp out on the grounds of the warehouse and nearby RV parks.

Soon the warehouse was too small–but a bigger warehouse would make things less intimate. They had a pleasant problem.

What can you do to keep something beautiful going once it starts getting popular?

 

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Good News and Better News… December 14th, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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The road.

On the road again.

A travelin’ man.

Hit the bricks.

(Well, I guess that last one doesn’t apply as well.)

Ms. Clazzy and I sat down and had a conversation about Tour 2015. We discussed the thousands of new friends we made, the condition of people, and the work that still needs to be done.

Here’s a reality you may have never thought of before: there is a hole right in the center of America.

Truthfully, most people are not conservative. The vast majority are not liberal. So as the media continues to advertise these two points of view, a deep valley of humanity is stuck between the two mountains of conflict.

Sometimes I wonder why we criticize Donald Trump–because all Mr. Trump did was locate that hole and fill it. You may not like what he filled it with, but your criticism is of little value unless you acknowledge there is a hole that exists, and bring some better filler.

I guess that’s what Ms. Clazzy and I do.

We have found that hole. We choose to fill it with good cheer.

The people who find themselves caught between the conflicting opinions are not overly religious, overly moral, overly selfish, or overly anything, for that matter. They are people who have found a way of life which seems to work for them, and they would just like a few ideas and encouraging words to make things better.

They don’t want to be bombarded by opinions which turn them into zealots; they would just like to believe that the little possibility just beyond their present grasp could actually be achieved instead of just being discussed.

It’s the same group of people Jesus found himself ministering to 2000 years ago.

They were not wise and they were not prudent.

They were babes in the woods who were looking for a way to be happy, and hopefully in the process, grant others the same opportunity.

This conversation led us to a decision. Are we going to do it again in 2016?

The question that is posed most often in my direction is, “Don’t you get tired of all the traveling?”

I suppose if you want to, you could get tired of almost anything, including eating hot fudge sundaes.

Or you can count the cost and realize what’s important, then convince yourself to make that enjoyable.

There is a hole in America.

The good news is, as for Ms. Clazzy and myself, we plan on going out again to try to fill it with something good.

The better news is that in the process of doing that, we receive three amazing benefits. We learn that:

1. Our family is not everybody.
2. Our town is not the whole world.
3. We can survive on our talent and wits.

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Crazy Larry… February 24, 2013

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I think it was about eight years ago. I had begun to write screenplays for independent movies, was composing some symphonic works for a regional orchestra, was working on a couple of novels and traveling across the country doing my presentation in churches.

It was an excitingly varied life, which brought one piece of information to the forefront of my mind: everyone is basically looking for a central mission in their journey, but are often reluctant to name that yearning by using one of the conventional terms for God or spirituality.

I found that both intriguing and comical. The thought in my mind is, once you find out where faith has its nexus, the name you come up with for this precious sense of peace of mind is not nearly as important as remaining passionate and fervent.

So I wrote a book called Living a Legendary Life, and in a very tongue-in-cheek style I proposed that rather than fighting over religious vernacular, we should just go ahead and call God–Larry.

I thought it was quite funny. I wasn’t actually suggesting that we start the First Church of Larry or the Holy Order of Larry. What I failed to realize was that I was trying to be humorous, off-the-cuff and clever in a world that does not particularly favor those presentations.

I immediately ran into the conservatives and the liberals. The conservatives were upset because I suggested that the name of the Divine God of the Universe was one of the Three Stooges. The liberals, on the other hand, were dismayed because I portrayed a God named Larry (which they didn’t have much problem with) but that this Deity expected people to be involved in their own lives and not cop out on their responsibilities.

Little did I know that I had placed myself directly in the center between these two houses of philosophy, and was in danger of being shot by both sides.

It made me think of the words of Larry’s son, Jesus, who once noted that he was very happy that truth is “hidden from the wise and prudent.” The wise consist of those more liberal individuals, who contend that they’re more intellectual and scientific than their backwoods brethren. And the prudent are the conservatives, who think the only way to be acceptable is to retreat into former times, when everything was supposedly just hunky-dory, and you could actually say “hunky-dory.”

This experience has not deterred my effort to maintain an autonomy from both camps. The wise are too smart to learn and the prudent are too careful to be blessed.

So both of them thought my idea was a rather “crazy Larry” concept–and my satire escaped them. But for those who are not bound by the restrictions of either world, who still believe that God loves us all, and keep good cheer in their lives because it is their favorite survival tool, my writings are still appreciated–and even occasionally comprehended.

After all, faith needs two very important parts: (1) it needs function. It’s got to be practical enough to be of some earthly good. (2) And it requires fervor. If it doesn’t energize you, it is a faith without works … which is dead on arrival..

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Remedy … September 16, 2012

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Iron-poor, tired blood.

I remember hearing that phrase as a kid. It was used to introduce Geritol commercials. Being young, I had no idea what they were talking about, but supposedly you could drink this fluid and your blood would be less fatigued and suddenly gain some sort of iron will. I didn’t care. I figured people who was old enough to be interested in the iron content of their blood probably should prepare to die instead of drinking Geritol.

But as I travel around the country, I now realize that our entire nation is experiencing some tiredness. Let’s refer to it as weary.

The politicians think they have a handle on it by insisting that the country has become exhausted by trying to keep up with the rigors of a failing economy. I don’t think so. I just don’t believe that people deteriorate emotionally because they lack money.

Religious people think the drop in enthusiasm and passion is due to secularism infiltrating our society with anti-Christian values and the removal of God from our dialogue. First of all, it’s hard to remove God from our consciousness when He opens every day with a brilliant display of sunrise. Also it’s difficult to make a case that this country is lacking in spiritual possibilities when there are churches everywhere, religious programming proliferating both the airwaves and the Internet, and faith being touted at the forefront of nearly every political debate.

I think we’re tired because we don’t know how sneaky sarcasm is. We deceive ourselves by insisting that we are not sarcastic, have not become cynical and have somehow avoided all temptations to do so, without realizing that sarcasm and cynicism do not ask our permission for entrance, and once introduced, are never far away.

We are continually bombarded with the fatigue of wondering when things will actually pan out the way they are supposed to, or when promises made to us by friends and family will come to fruition instead fo being followed by, “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

We deceive ourselves because we think that merely by avoiding an eruption of anger we have eliminated the problem and moved on. But often the absence of anger is the infusion of cynicism. The act of  avoiding a fit of rage can leave behind a residue of despair that makes us less capable of being fresh and willing the next time around.

Some people call this maturity; other people refer to it as realism. God calls it weary. And when we grow weary in well-doing, we give up right before blessing has a chance to be delivered to our doorstep for our benefit.

Every time we are disappointed or failure comes our way, we must realize that there is more to receiving self-healing than just deciding to not be upset. Sarcasm and cynicism hang around long after we seemingly have gotten over the frustration of not getting what we desired. Once sarcasm and cynicism enter our beings, we just feel tired.

I saw this as I traveled the country this year–good-hearted, loving, gentle people who just didn’t have the will to take one more step toward possibility because sarcasm and cynicism had taken hold of their lives and drained the last little bit of youthful optimism from their hearts.

You cannot ignore your disappointments. You must produce a remedy. Otherwise the secret killer of true faith will overtake you and leave you sarcastic and cynical.

Matter of fact, I will go so far as to say that must of the humor produced in our television programs is sarcasm, and cynical in nature. Most of the commentary by the pundits on the news programs reeks of sarcasm and cynicism. Dare I say that nearly all of the advertisements in the political campaigns are actions of pummeling the opponent with sarcasm and cynicism.

Jesus had one of those days. The movers and shakers in his society had unmercifully hassled him, bringing up ridiculous charges and asking him to follow minute little tasks to prove his value to the religious community. They wanted “signs from heaven.” They demanded “evidence.” They wanted to be convinced. They had iron-poor, tired blood. They were cynical and sarcastic and had no idea that this disease had permeated their souls.

Jesus needed a remedy. He was in danger of becoming just as cynical and sarcastic about these opponents as they were about their own lives. He took a three-step cure.

1. He thanked God. He thanked God for his present location; he was grateful.

The notion that we would be better off in different circumstances is, after all, a mere theory. All we ever know is our present status.

2. He acknowledged the importance of where he had landed. It seemed that his message was not going to be well received by the wise and prudent, so rather than fighting and kicking against his dilemma, he welcomed the audience that God gave him and accepted his market.

We spend too much time wishing that we had a better outlet for our ideas and talents, and lose the opportunity set before us, which actually is our field.

3. And finally, he placed himself among those who were simple–babes.

Nowadays, everyone is trying to be too sophisticated. We think there’s a power in being all-knowing and filled with information. Sometimes it’s just better to believe in what you’ve got and work with it, instead of waiting for the next bus to come along and take you to the promised land.

The weariness in our country is due to the sarcasm and cynicism that permeates our politics, our religion, our arts, our entertainment and even our family life. (Is it not a dangerous cynicism that causes us to believe that men and women cannot find a way to communicate, while strangely enough, we still insist that “it’s all about the family?”)

I go to sleep tonight in Logansport, Indiana, not desiring to be anywhere else. I do not feel that I would be more successful performing at Wembley Stadium in front of forty thousand people. I do not need my latest book to be on the best-sellers list of the New York Times. I do not contend that my present status is inferior because it’s not world-renowned. I know that in every season a message comes forth that must spend time in solitude and obscurity before it ever has a chance to be heard and received.

I will work on me. I will employ the remedy, and I will keep my life from becoming weary–inundated by sarcasm and cynicism.

Do you feel tired? Have you watched yourself get more weary? Understand that sarcasm and cynicism don’t leave until you show them the door.

To do so, you have to locate yourself and be happy that you’re there.

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