September 2^nd, 1970 – The Heart Arc (888)

August 28^th, 2010

          I had lived for eighteen years.  It wasn’t uneventful but had many typical markers that are normally linked to childhood and adolescence. 

          In May of 1970, I discovered that my girlfriend was pregnant. 

          It was 1970.  I was a church boy.  And this was forbidden.

          She went off on a trip to Europe for the summer, and when she returned her parents packed up and moved, to retire in Mexico .  They didn’t like me very well.  I hold them no grudge—I’m sure I was an obnoxious eighteen-year-old with more potential than sense. 

          Now, before my girlfriend left for Mexico , we decided that she would fly back on her eighteenth birthday—August 25^th—and join me and we would get married and become very young parents.  Well, August 25^th came and went.  The 26^th, 27^th, 28^th and 29^th followed, with the similar absence of my girlfriend arriving from Mexico .

          I heard through the grapevine that she had enrolled at the University of Arizona , and apparently had decided to abandon our plan.  The first thing that crossed my mind was, Hey, kid.  You’re off the hook.  You’ve done what you could and she’s decided she wants to do something different.

          The logical part of me said “Move on.”  But move on to what?  I had been raised in a fundamentalist church and everyone, including myself, believed that I was heading towards the ministry to eventually become a church pastor.  The recent event seemed to be eliminating that possibility, but since my girlfriend had backed out on the plan, I was completely free to pursue the life of a clergyman.

          But you see, there were two problems: (A) I didn’t want to give up my girlfriend or our baby.  And (B) deep in my heart, I knew I would make a piss-poor preacher.

          It was at this point that my emotions stepped to the forefront.  They told me to fly out to Arizona and retrieve my girlfriend and turn her into my young bride and very quickly, the mother of my child.  I knew what this meant.  I would go from “good Johnny” to “bad Johnny” overnight. Becoming a minister of a church would certainly be hindered, if not impossible. 

          Should I stay—and keep being “good Johnny?”  Or should I go, and risk becoming the “bad boy of rock and roll?”  I was only eighteen years old.  I didn’t have anyone to talk to who wouldn’t have been shocked by the revelation of the pregnancy.  I didn’t want to keep the secret, but if the secret weren’t kept, I wouldn’t be able to remain “good Johnny” if I decided that’s where I wanted to go.  I was trapped.

          So I asked myself three important questions: 

          1.  Could I continue to grow emotionally in my life, knowing that I lost my girlfriend and my first child?

          2.  Was there anything better waiting for me than what was already begun through this relationship?

          3.  Could I live with myself, knowing I had made a decision out of cowardice rather than choice?

          I was just a punk kid but I knew how to ask the right questions.  My heart needed to be liberated from eighteen years of growing up as a good little boy doing good little things in a good little town in a good little church in good little Ohio. 

          I flew out to Arizona , picked up my girlfriend, made her my wife, and had my first child—to the jeers and condemnation of my community.  I didn’t care. 

          It was my first arc of my own covenant with myself.  My heart was free. 

          From that point on I would never be afraid to make a decision based on the emotional need to stay emotionally involved in my own emotional life.  I laid down my first dot. 

          Look at the three questions.  Look at your first dot.  Did you set your heart free to feel?  Or did you accidentally repress it and scold it for daring to be so expressive?  It is a killer.  Because a heart that cannot emotionally share both its burden and its joy soon infects the rest of our being with its disappointment. 

          The Bible says “hope deferred makes the heart sick.”  I couldn’t say it better myself.  I’ve never felt heart-sick, because when my heart cried for liberation on that September 2^nd, 1970, I walked away from conventionalism towards the realism that became my life.

          It was my heart arc.  And I’ve never once regretted it.

          Now, the next arc happened in July of 1979.  It was my soul arc.

Should I Stay or Should I Go? (887)

August 27^th, 2010

          Sit down and draw a line on a piece of paper.  (Well, it really isn’t a command.  Do it if you want to.)  The line represents your life—although I will admit to you, life is rarely linear.  Life more resembles a piece of string that’s thrown in the air and lands on a table in its own wiggly configuration.  But for the sake of our jonathots, allow me a line-upon-line description.

          On your line, put four dots, equidistant to each other.  These four dots we shall refer to as the “arcs of your covenant.”  What do I mean by that?  There are the four times in your life when you came across an incident where you had to decide:  should I stay or should I go? and that decision shaped the manner of your existence forever.

          Because really, that’s what life is all about.  It is actually a daily choice of “stays or goes” but there are always some major decisions that set in motion either our new miraculous path, or they stall us as we wait for the next “arc of our covenant.”

          I chose four because we are heart, soul, mind and strength people, and each one of our parts demands its moment of liberation or ends up in a restrictive confinement.  So for the next few days I’m going to take you on a journey into these various “arcs of the covenant,” using moments in my life to explain the phenomenon, allowing you to parallel similar progress with your own experience.

          For you see, there is a certainty to every life:  we will reach some moment when we become emotionally free to express ourselves, or we become repressed by fear. We will reach a juncture where our souls become more expansive or locked away in spiritual intimidation.  We will allow our minds to grow beyond our own thoughts and upbringing, or we will lock away our intelligence in a cave of our own misunderstanding.  And finally, we will liberate our bodies to better causes or we will stay addicted to bad habits.

          Obviously, everything is not quite as black and white as “good choices and bad choices,” but it often IS just as simple as “should I stay or should I go?”  I hope you will not find it presumptuous for me to use examples from my own life to accentuate the point.  I plan on being very candid and won’t attempt to hold back any of my stupidities and inadequacies.  If you will join me on the journey and do the same, we will probably experience great enlightenment.

          So … should I stay or should I go?  My first arc of covenant happened on September 2^nd, 1970.

Sabbath (886)

August 26^th, 2010

          Such an old-fashioned word—conjures images of long-bearded rabbis or members of a cult where women are viewed as only valuable for “cookin’ and lookin’.”  Matter of fact, one might even wonder if the word has any place in our modern-day world.

          But what is Sabbath?  The original one only had one participant.  His name was God.  He decided after six days of creative effort to take one day to rest.  Over the years, the concept of rest has transformed itself into worship, church services, picnics, football games and NASCAR races.

          But is there a need in our twenty-first century for Sabbath?  And what is Sabbath to the average human being?  Some would call it sleep; others, recreation.  A portion of the populace would use it to relax.  And a chosen few might use it for an occasion to gather and study “holy writ.”

          But I believe if we go back to the original meaning, Sabbath was just a time set aside to disconnect.  If we stay connected all the time, we start believing a very dubious concept—that life cannot go on without us. 

          So I believe that Sabbath, in its purest form, has three functions:

1.  I will disconnect long enough from my activities that I can check out the view of the world … without me.  Sometimes we wonder what life would be like if we weren’t around—and a tear even comes to our eye when we consider how friends and family might continue without our ever-present mug.  But I think Sabbath gives us the opportunity to disconnect and let the world go on for one day, or even one hour, without us participating.  It is a very ingenious notion; it is a very valuable discovery.  Which leads me to:

2. Sabbath is a time to disconnect so I can check out ME, without the pressures and luxuries of the world around me.  Yes—who am I without my appendages?  Who am “I” without my “pod?”  How do I function, absent the intervention of other people, other ideas and other things?

3.  And finally, I think Sabbath is important to us human beings because it gives us a chance, without hovering and breathing down His neck, to find out what God is going to do next.  If I took the time spent worrying, which I am completely unable to fill with productive activity, and used it to rest and disconnect, I might actually give the Divine a chance to be miraculous. 

          I learned this some time ago—I am God’s greatest hindrance to my own success.

          To me that is Sabbath – trying to see the world minus my interference; trying to find myself by subtracting the world’s influence; and giving God even just ten minutes to be God without my approval.

          It was a brilliant decision by a creative genius to see how things progressed without being “messed with;” and if that is what Sunday church was really like? –well, I do believe we might just be able to draw a crowd.

Just Like Moses (885)

August 25^th, 2010

          Well, maybe not just like Moses.  I mean, I wasn’t born, stuck in a basket to float down the Nile River to be discovered by Pharaoh’s daughter, raised in royalty, and growing up to kill an Egyptian soldier and escape to become a herdsman for forty years, and then spying a burning bush, returning to Egypt, bringing down plagues from the sky and freeing well over a million people from slavery, crossing the Red Sea and receiving the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai.

          I mean, none of that stuff.  The closest I ever came to the Ten Commandments was breaking a couple. (Or was it a few?)

          No, I’m like Moses because I’ve spent forty years in the wilderness.  That wilderness is called marriage. 

          Now I know that statement may take people aback, but wilderness does not have to be a bad place.  It’s just where you wander because you don’t necessarily know exactly where you’re going, what you’re doing, which way is The Promised Land, and therefore, what it comes down to is the company you end up wandering around with. (I know that was a horrible sentence, but it did get my point across.)

          Life is kind of a wilderness, and for forty years I have wandered around with a lass formerly known as Elizabeth Gill Ristine.  She didn’t plan on ending up with me, nor really, I with her.  She was eighteen years old, in the middle of her first dreamy romance with a high school boy whom she had been dating for only a few months when she discovered she was pregnant.  At the time she was experimenting with her human sexuality, she had no intention of getting pregnant.  (Actually very few people do, except for those who may be in Hollywood , appear on Oprah Winfrey or are the subject of a Lifetime movie.)  Elizabeth planned to go on to college, join a sorority, and pursue the path of a marine biologist before she landed on a second career—less academically challenging.

          She was accustomed to being rich, and not well-suited for occasional bouts of poverty.  She lived in a sanctuary of solitude and protection with her parents and was startled by the criticism given to young girls and boys for getting pregnant out of wedlock back in 1970.

          She didn’t want to get married; she wanted to experience.  She wasn’t madly in love; she was curious.  She didn’t require a mate; she just wanted to feel pretty and loved. 

          But that’s not the way it worked out.  So reluctantly, she joined me on a journey of unknown destinations through rough terrain and strange circumstances in a wilderness called marriage. 

          Marriage is a wilderness.  We determine that to be a negative statement because we all believe we deserve The Promised Land.  But if you are fortunate enough to travel with someone who doesn’t complain about the lack of water, eating too much quail or how hot it gets from time to time, you can turn any wilderness into your own Zion .  Because happiness is not based upon location; it’s based on the proximity you place yourself in to those who are bound and determined to be happy.

          So in that wilderness, the lady and I had four children, adopted three others, traveled the country, made money, and discovered life.  She hung around to watch as I wrote symphonies, books and movies, reaching into the hearts of millions.

          I bring this up because today is her birthday.  I just want you to know how proud I am of someone who walked into the wilderness, did not get to see the Red Sea part, but still tarried with a bit of patience to partake of a forty year journey, and rather than complaining about it or wondering if there were milk and honey elsewhere, turned the rocks and hills of her surroundings into heavenly and delightful places.

          That’s a pretty remarkable achievement—because a wilderness is not always pretty.  The wilderness is not always easy.  The wilderness does not come with a brochure with promised amenities.  But if you’re smart, you realize what’s outside doesn’t really make any difference once you climb into your tent together.

          Happy birthday, fellow wilderness traveler!

Shrinking My Life (884)

August 24^th, 2010

          Honest to God, I was as proud as a peacock—even though I’m really not sure what that means.  I assume it’s because peacocks have a lot of plumage they can show off.  But since my plumage fell off in the sink years ago, I guess I would have to change that to, “I was as proud as an eagle”—they tending to be bald. 

          Anyway, let’s just say that I had developed a sense of well-being because I had finally convinced myself to live within the confines of the day, twenty-four hours at a time, if you will, without worrying too much about tomorrow.  Actually, one really doesn’t need to be patted on the back much for it, because it’s so satisfying to be free of a burden which you have absolutely no ability to affect—tomorrow.

          I was feeling so empowered by the experience of being a “daily” walker, until one morning, very recently, I woke up and the day I had not been worrying about showed up, not only lacking promise, but with a big thud.  Or maybe it was a crash.

          There was certainly no miracle.  Grace seemed to have scurried to the corners to hide out from the pending doom.  And solutions had dried up in the heat of the conflict.  Wherever I turned on that particular sunrise, there seemed to be no answer to the situation poised for my destruction. (Well I admit, “destruction” is a bit overwrought, but everything looks bigger in 3-D, when you’re right there staring at it.) 

          So the “old complainer” I was raised to be started stirring in the ashes where I had recently burned it.  It wanted to come back with a vengeance, proclaiming, “I told you so, you silly ninny.”  It wanted to bitch and stomp and give its little stump speech about the unfairness of life and how a good dose of fear and anxiety goes a long way towards soothing our aching need.

          It was amazing … in a debilitating sort of way.  I’d felt I was so far along—so beyond being the common complainer—and then suddenly, because my day did not show up with a delivery of good “doo-dads,” I was ready to abandon all philosophies that had previously proven themselves to be productive.

          But instead of letting that spirit of dissent move itself back into my being, I just calmed down for a second.  Calm may be one of the better choices to make when we start acting like the person we know we don’t want to be.  It was remarkable.  In the moment of calm, I suddenly was able to hear the tiny voice in my spirit that refuses to speak above the volume of a whisper.

          By the way, I’ve offered that voice a cough drop in hopes of getting it to be louder, but so far, it’s just its own teeny, tiny little dribble of sound.  Anyway, the voice spoke clearly.

            “In that same hour.”

          I knew what it meant.  It was a reference to what Jesus said to his disciples when he told them that their mission of trying to love the world might turn dangerous—that people might actually try to do them harm.  He told them not to sweat the small stuff; that in that same hour when they were going through the trial and they would need to defend themselves, the words would be there.

          So just when I thought I had become some sort of spiritual giant by learning how to live in the day, now I’m told I have to break it down to an hour? 

          My life is shrinking.  I have become the incredible shrinking man.

          But the voice was right.  All of the problems I faced in that morning, later on in the day, had evaporated and disappeared.

          But I had to wait for the right hour. 

          I wondered why it worked this way, and I decided it’s because God doesn’t want us to become chunks of gunk.  And when we start living our lives in big chunks, like years, months, weeks, or even a day, we start feeling like a big pile of gunk, pushed along by the broom of life and relegated to heaps of dust.

          But when we allow ourselves to relax in the spirit and even be patient until the hour arrives, then the thrill of the victory is always sweeter—more intense—and ours.

          I just wonder what’s next.  Am I really going to need to shrink down to a minute?  And if so, how much weight will I have to lose?

Waiting (883)

August 23^rd, 2010

          In the realm of the spiritual, or even in the true nature of solution, waiting is never sitting or feigning patience.  God, who created human beings, certainly would not ask us to perform something so un-human, especially when our very lives may be at stake.  Because after all, human beings are terrible at waiting—the best we can do is to pretend that we are patient.  Waiting, just like everything in our lives, must be an aggressive practice instead of a passive one.  We are terrible at being passive.  If remaining implacable is the necessary step for spirituality, we are all doomed to hellish results. 

          No, waiting is the process by which we welcome the arrival of wisdom and strength. That’s why the book of Isaiah says, “They that wait upon the Lord will—first of all—renew their strength.”

          I do not think that being renewed with energy and strength is an occurrence without rejuvenation for our entire being—heart, soul, mind and body.  That means that while we’re waiting, a diversion will come which will cause us to feel needed and valuable—because what we lose when we sit around is the sensation of self-worth.  God in His great wisdom grants us a mission, often for others, while we’re waiting for our shipment of hope.

          The next thing Isaiah lists is that we “mount up with wings as eagles.”  What a perfect description of wisdom—gaining a bird’s eye view; rising above the fray to get a better look at the lay of the land.  So as we’re waiting, we will appreciate the passage of time by realizing that new revelation is arriving every day, and without this fulfillment of truth, we would be lacking in our ultimate conclusion.

          So we get strength and we get wisdom.  But it keeps going.  We run and are not weary and we walk and don’t faint. 

          What is the most powerful gift that can be given to a human being on this planet we call earth?  Endurance.

          Jesus phrased it this way:  “He that endures to the end will be saved.” Endurance is never achieved by conversation.  Endurance cannot be claimed through Bible study and prayer.  Endurance is possessed in our souls by running and walking in new directions while we’re waiting for answers.

          Waiting is the process in which God allows us to visit territories which were uncharted before and might have remained unavailable had we not needed an answer.  If you find yourself sitting around, flustered, wondering when your particular miracle is going to arrive, somewhere along the line you have failed to comprehend this ingenious process.  It starts by stopping—stopping our lying and allowing our real feelings to come to the forefront.  Then we take a look at our situation and see if we can multiply our talent and count the cost—to ascertain if the ability already provided is enough to cover the need.  If it isn’t, we believe God for wisdom, a jolt of energy and an imparting of information, to fill us with new prospects; or we ask God to give us the strength to sustain us through this particular ordeal. 

          And then we wait, knowing that the waiting will renew our strength, allow us to mount up higher in our lives to give us a better view of the world around us, and show us new ways to run and walk and be busy doing other things while we wait for “our thing” to come to pass.

          It’s all about getting the process in the right order; and when you do, you suddenly discover what you formerly believed to be magical mystery is really the natural—enacted in a super way.

·        Stop lying.

·        Multiply your talent

·        Count the cost

·        Pray for wisdom

·        Petition God for strength

·        Wait—by enjoying the feeling of your strength being renewed, and getting a bird’s eye view of life that is rarely available in everyday interactions

·        And then run—to help others

·        And walk towards new experiences.

          The answers will come.  And the answers will be real. 

          And the answers will be part of your covenant with your heavenly Father.

Believe (882)

August 22^nd, 2010

          His name was James and he was the brother of Jesus.  He wrote himself a very nice, interesting epistle—and in that epistle he offered this concept: we don’t have what we want because we don’t ask, and when we do ask, what we ask is always something to squander on our own lusts.

          What is prayer?  Is prayer asking God to solve my problem?  If that is prayer to you, you probably have a very checkered history with God.  Is prayer the act of needing a supernatural intervention?  Once again, your track record may be a little sketchy. 

          There are two things guaranteed us through prayer. 

          The first one is wisdom.  We can always gain wisdom through prayer.  I believe it to be the most supernatural, miraculous event that ever occurs in our human journey.  Just as Solomon won favor with God by seeking wisdom over riches, any child of God who really wants wisdom will never be left out in the cold and will never be ignored.  Wisdom that is prayed for can be granted through an article we read in a magazine, a phone call from a caring friend, or overhearing a conversation at another table in your local diner. God loves to impart wisdom to those who are ready to use their abilities to the betterment of their own lives and the lives of those around them. 

          What is wisdom? Wisdom is attaching hands and feet to knowledge.  It is often the action of God blessing us with an insight on how to use an existing piece of information in a new and more pragmatic way.  It is the ability to discern the wheat from the chaff by taking available information and transforming it into a bundle of blessing to resolve our dilemma.

          Wisdom is where God adds His breath and even, sometimes, humor, to good, old-fashioned book learning.  It is a guaranteed answer from the heavens because it allows God to use what is earthly for heavenly conclusions.  He doesn’t have to cheat.  He doesn’t have to show favorites.  He doesn’t have to use a magic wand.  He doesn’t have to leave His universal throne, but instead, offers a passage from the Book of Common Practice.

          The second thing that always will be answered by the heavens to aid humans is the request for strength.  The Bible says He will give us “the power to will and to do.”  You notice, it doesn’t say He gives us the power to hope and pray.  He gives us the strength to perform what we are able to achieve as human beings.  Often, that is all we need. 

          Maybe we’re going in for that test at the hospital and we are physically debilitated and don’t think that we can make it through the ordeal.  God will grant us the strength.

          Maybe we’ve lost a loved one and we know it is contingent upon us to be supportive at the funeral, but we feel weakened by our own remorse.  God will grant us the strength.

          If you are praying for finance, be prepared to get an answer of wisdom on how to use your money better, or for strength to burst on the scene to grant you the energy to work harder. 

          If you are praying for healing, you should be aware that you’re about to get information and insight on your disease that will lead to treatment, as God grants you the stamina to survive it.

          Most people think their prayers are not answered.  That’s because prayers rarely knock down doors, but instead, leave a package outside our home with a quiet ringing of the bell.  It’s up to us to open up to the possibility.

          When you pray, pray for wisdom and strength, and God will always answer; and when you add that wisdom and strength to the newly-multiplied talent that you have counted the cost on because you have stopped lying about your situation, you will generally find that God has supplied “all your need according to His riches in glory.”

          But sometimes—or maybe even oftentimes—there is one more step needed to assure ultimate victory.  Sometimes we have to learn the correct procedure, mannerism and profile … for waiting.  

Do (881)

August 21^st, 2010

          So you’ve stopped lying.  Congratulations.  You are well on your way to a solution-paved life.  But what’s next?

          I think at this point most people, whether spiritual or not, start looking for some sort of intervening possibility to complete their task.  Honestly, I totally disagree. 

          I have learned thing in my fifty-eight years of life: if there were no ciphers to figure out, none of us would ever change anything.  We would continue to repeat the same activities with a robot level of efficiency, never enhancing our existence with the inclusion of fresh gifts.

          So I know that every problem has the potential for granting me a new vision and way to multiply my talent.  For certainly after we stop lying, it is time to do something—but the thing that needs to be done more than anything else is to upgrade our skills to accommodate the new situation.

          Frustration is always the by-product of losing faith in one’s own ability.  And the most certain path to losing faith in our ability is to feel we are limited to a one-way road instead of branching ourselves out to a super-highway.  The paradox that comes into our lives is there to push us to try something new.  It’s a chance to “multiply our talent” and find different avenues to discover a street to success.  Without that interference by life and the natural order, we become so redundant and bored with our existence that we are exasperated with our own sense of adequacy. 

          So the first thing I do is stop lying.  And then I look for a way to use what I’ve already got in a more expansive way.  Once I’ve discovered all the various angles within my abilities, it is time to count the cost.  

          Do I have the capability, with my talent base—even newly expanded—to handle this situation on my own?  If I do, fantastic.  Problem solved.  If I don’t, I need to try to make peace with my own situation.  Once again using my honesty, I can explain to those around me what I am able to do, how I have found a way to increase my capacity, and how much I think I estimate that I might fall short of achieving my goal.

          Can I bury a thought deep in your minds right now?  I have never seen honest people fail.  Only the dishonest manufacture a product of disillusionment that renders them ineffective in their lives.

          So after we’ve stopped lying, it’s time to do.  I know there are those who would disagree and think it’s always best to seek God before checking out one’s own possibilities.  But I never saw Jesus do a miracle unless it was instigated by the faith and personal evaluation of someone around him.

          Yes—the second step is: DO.  And what do I need to do?   Check out my talent, see if I can multiply it and then count the cost and come to a decision on whether my talent and it’s tributaries can lead to a river of life.

          It is at this point that I am ready to come to God—because the first question God is going to ask me is, “Do you have a pure heart?  Have you told the truth?”  And the second question He is going to ask me is, “What do you know about yourself and what have you already done?”

          So I stop lying, I check out my talent, and I multiply my abilities, allowing myself to become more enlightened.  And then I count the cost to find out if this new birthing of creativity is enough to meet my need.  If it’s not, it now becomes … time to believe.  

Stop (880)

August 20^th, 2010

          Losing time.

          It is the problem that comes up when we’re trying to resolve conflict.  People who are not spiritual try to muscle or struggle their way through difficulty.  And those who deem themselves to be spiritual often spend precious moments trying to decide whether to pray, move, wait, believe or act.  Quite bluntly, the delay is the loss of opportunity, which ushers in defeat.

          So in the world of “fixing difficulties,” it often seems that spiritual people and those who are not so inclined really don’t have any particular advantage over each other.  So if you don’t mind, I’d like to take the next few days and discuss what I believe to be the “spirited” way to handle inconvenience, hassle or even tragedy.  Getting the procedure in the right order and inserting the correct motivated action at the precise moment it is needed is the key.

          So we will begin today with the first step.  When a trial or tribulation looms in the distance or even comes up and smacks us in the face, the first thing a spirited person needs to do is stop.

          Stop what, you may ask? 

          Stop all forms of lying—because there is the lying we do to other people, the lying we do to ourselves, and even the lying we do to God. 

          If you’re afraid, be afraid—but don’t lie about it.  If you have faith for a miraculous solution, then state it—but don’t lie about the extent of your belief.  If you’re not feeling well or suddenly are encompassed by an overwhelming sense of dread, tell somebody.

          The reason most people never launch a good campaign against peril is because they start out with lying.  They lie to themselves, insisting they are not intimidated or afraid, which they then propagate as a positive statement to others, which immediately eliminates the potential for aid from those around them.  And finally, they often tell a big, fat fib to God and insist that they are behind His great plan and leaning on His word explicitly.  It creates a nervous energy which rather than helping to solve the fussiness, actually contributes to the dilemma by creating little spot-fires of insecurity and frustration around them.  Yes, the first step necessary to a spirited solution in life is to stop lying. 

          Case in point:  I woke up this morning and my leg felt better—but it still hurt.  I wasn’t exactly sure how much I could move or how much I would be able to do.  But I did realize that denying the pain or ignoring the weakness was no way to handle the upcoming twenty-four-hour period.  So I spoke it aloud. 

          “My leg is better but it still hurts, and I think I can do the following three things without too much trouble.”

          It felt so good to be clean.  And those who work with me are reassured by my improvement, but also forewarned of my limitations.  Lying is what human beings do when they really believe that  their lives should be better than they presently are.  Could there be anything we would do that would be more faithless?  Is there anything worse than telling God that He failed to ship us enough supplies to make it through?

          So because we want to maintain a  semblance of belief, we lie about our situation.  It’s just plain, downright ridiculous.

          Therefore if you are intent on solving your quandary, you must first stop lying.  Speak it aloud and speak it proud.  “This is where I am.  This is what I am thinking.  This is what I feel I can do.  And this is who I am.”

          It doesn’t mean it won’t get better.  It just means that the God you believe in is not so fragile that He can’t handle the truth.  It means that the friends you have chosen to be your companions are not so anemic that they can’t hear an accurate assessment.  And it means that you are not overwhelmed by a temporary weakness because you know that admitting where you are is the only way to get to where you want to go.

          The first step in becoming more empowered is to evaluate accurately your lesser status. 

          Stop lying. 

          It is the only way to get to a position where you’re prepared to “do.”  

No Leg to Stand On (879)

August 19^th, 2010

          Now I understand that phrase—for having completed a visit to Good Shepherd United Methodist Church last night with a delightful group of people, when I stood to my feet at the end of the program, I discovered that sometime during setup I had wrenched my left knee.  I use the term “wrenched” because I don’t know how else to describe what I had done to my knee, plus “wrenching” seems appropriate, considering the pain that shot through my left leg.

          I got off the stage fairly easily and survived the rest of the evening to make it home, and there, realized that my left knee, which had remained faithful during the mutiny of my right one, had now decided to go on strike—with allegiance to its brother. 

          It was really quite comical because, as we do not need two kidneys, and two ears and two eyes may be equally as redundant, we also don’t particularly require two legs. 

          You can have one leg to stand on.  Predictably, it makes you a little bit tipsy, but it is negotiable.  But the absence of ANY leg to stand on renders you … seated.

          It was an interesting discovery.  And as I write this to you this morning, I am still navigating the waters of my double-legged inadequacy.  After all, I seem to do pretty well once I get up on my feet and begin to walk, but it’s the process of getting to that vertical position that looms large in my mind.  In other words, I can still walk.  It hurts a little bit.  But my brain, trying to be sympathetic to me, greatly discourages the effort.

          But you see, my brain is wrong.

          I don’t say that in a mean or condescending way.  My brain wants me to sit and relax but my leg doesn’t feel any better sitting than it does standing and loosening up.  So if I were to trust my brain, I would probably not do very much today.  And I’m sure there is some very intelligent doctor out there who would insist that my brain is correct and I should rest my leg.  But honestly, that has not been my discovery.  My discovery with injuries to my two limbs is that the more I sit and contemplate them, the less they actually heal.

          I’m not recommending this for anyone else, and I’m sure there are people in my condition who would visit a physician and maybe even have their leg immobilized in some sort of portable cast.  But my brain does trick me—because my brain is intelligent enough to try to find the easy way to get out of a situation.

          Can I point out to you that this is not always the best way?

          So I will do a bit of hobbling today.  I will take care of myself but I will not relent to my brain’s request to check out for the day.  Why?  Because quite bluntly, I do need a leg to stand on—even though it is threatening to be non-supportive to all proposed projects.

          So my concept is this:   be careful how you listen to that brain perched on the top of your head—because even though it is very knowledgeable, the information that encompasses it has been placed there by our doing—or the doing of those who raised us and taught us.  Sometimes the brain doesn’t know what’s best for the knee. 

          And sometimes the knee heals a whole lot faster when it’s not given the day off.

The Ideaist (878)

August 18^th, 2010

          As a man thinks, so is he. 

          That’s how the book of Proverbs reads.  Most folks would agree with that in principle—it’s the application where things get a little partly cloudy.  Are we, in fact, really what we think?

          You probably read my title, The Ideaist, and thought I misspelled it, falling ironically short of The Idealist  because we’re familiar with the term idealist.  We’re also familiar with the word realist.  (If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave the pessimist out of the equation totally, because to me, pessimists are just people who are making a feather bed out of their own self-pity, looking for a soft place to fall after their next failure.)

          But I do want to address idealists and realists.  They seem to be at odds with each other, having completely different interpretations of that Proverb, “As a man thinks, so is he.” 

          The idealist thinks, “I am”—and therefore concludes, “I will.”  Possessing an optimistic view of his or her own abilities, they often leap off the cliff into oblivion, contending they can do things far beyond their available capabilities. 

          Realists, on the other hand, discover the “I am” in their lives, and based upon what they believe their limitations are, they find a very quaint and plausible path to produce their “I can.”  It’s always predictable and rarely has any jagged edges or mystery involved.

          But I’m not so sure that we are what we think—not without the inclusion of an extra piece inserted in the middle of the process.  Where some folks would insist we are “think” and “do,” I believe that it’s more “think” plus something else and then do.  And, as is often the case in life, what is inserted makes all the difference in the world.

          For you see, the idealist starts out with “I am” and inserts a hope, which generates the sensation of “I will.”  I know we are almost intoxicated with the notion of “hope” in this generation, but actually, hope can be one of the nastier additions to our lives if it’s not grounded in a sense of awareness and well-being.

          The realist, on the other hand, starts out with “I can” and then discovers a job, and from that job develops a sense of self worth:  “I am.”  Everybody knows what the problem is with a job.  It is well-defined, but often limiting and boring.

          So the idealist tends to over-estimate what he can do, inserts a radical dose of hope and presents a promise of “I will” that is rarely delivered.  The realist takes a safer approach by underestimating what he can do, finding a job that is usually a little beneath his abilities, and accepts himself as the sub-total of that occupation. 

          That’s why I brought up this funny word:  the ideaist.  I think it’s the missing link in the evolution of the spiritual process.  It’s important for us to begin by finding out, in complete honesty, who we really are.  “I am.”  It’s especially powerful if we can develop a sense of humor about that and begin to share it with others without incrimination or pride.  And the ideaist, rather than going from “I am” to “I can,” has his own insertion.  It is the essence of the name—it’s called an idea.

          It’s amazing how the “I am” in my life is enhanced to become a better “I can” by the simple inclusion of an idea.  As a man thinks, so is he?  Only if he has a really good idea to trigger and unite the purposes.  Otherwise, he or she is jettisoned into a whirlwind of idealism or trapped in a web of realism.  The ideaist comes to terms with the “I am,” and looks for an idea to make the “I can” more expansive. 

          Our society is obsessed with mental outlook, thinking it determines ultimate outcome.  It doesn’t.  A football team that wants to win a game does not have a chance against a better team without a great game plan.  An unattractive person has absolutely no way of initiating a relationship with a more beautiful individual without inserting the idea of talent and personality.  A family working on a budget has no chance at all of making ends meet without an inspiring notion on handling their funds.

          We are frustrating a generation of people by telling them that if they just “think better, better conclusions will follow.”  So idealists bounce between euphoria and depression; and realists languish in torpor of modicum. 

          It is the ideaist who understands that a great candor of discovering “who I am,” when energized by an idea, determines the blessing of the ultimate “I can.”

          So you may continue to be an idealist, believing “I can” and therefore “I will,” using some sort of hope to wedge your will to a happy conclusion.  Or you can be a realist, deciding your “I am,” finding a safe haven of a job and then quietly and repetitively doing your “I can.”

          Or you can be an ideaist, knowing that the “I am” that you have uncovered is multiplied by a spiritual idea that grants a much-improved “I can.”       The choice is yours.  It would have been nice if the Proverb writer would have let us know that “think” needs a vehicle to get to “do.” 

          I guess sometimes all writers take too much for granted.  For instance, me—thinking you would allow me to make up a ridiculous word like ideaist.

Without (877)

August 17^th, 2010

Christmas without Santa Claus.

Fish without tartar sauce.

Problems without prayer.

Tooth loss without a tooth fairy.

Works without faith.

July 4^th without fireworks.

Worship without joy.

Hamburgers without buns.

Sex without pleasure.

French fries without ketchup.

Friendship without conversation.

Cars without gas.

Love without affection.

God without Jesus.

Hope without an idea.

Birthday without a cake.

Truth without mercy.

Fudge without nuts.

Work without fun.

Girls without boys.

And . . .

A universe without God . . .  

                    Why?

 

God Is Love (876)

August 16^th, 2010

          People believe a lot of things about God; you are welcome to peruse their profiles.  Here’s what I think.  I contend that He has decided to make this journey with us.  I think even though He could be all-knowing, He chooses to be just as surprised and enlightened as we are.  Although He possesses the potential to be all-powerful, He welcomes our attempts and efforts to push the car down the road to get things started.

          I think God was reborn at creation and has taken the journey along the way, learning as He goes and passing that impact of information on to us through His spirit.  I believe it’s why the Bible says that Jesus “learned obedience through the things he suffered.” 

          The best way to express deep-rooted emotion towards another is to join them on their journey.  So to me, God—a journey-joiner. 

          IS becomes the reality of how life works, which is imparted to us through understanding the natural order that God has supplied for the inhabitants of this earth, and also to appreciate that life neither sucks nor is it beautiful.  Life just affords opportunity with warning.  Yes, IS can be best defined as opportunity with warning.

          And finally, love is a committed affection. It decides to hang around as the person of our affection is committed to discovering who they want to be.  So let me put it all together: 

·        My journey-joiner (God)

·        grants me opportunities with warnings (IS)

·        while providing a committed affection and a confidence that He plans on hanging around while I discover all I want to be (Love).

          What a powerful thought.  God is joining me on the journey, giving me chances to expand myself while providing adequate wisdom and information, and making it clear that although He may not approve of all of my choices, He has no intention of letting His opinions develop any level of displeasure.

          No wonder the Bible writer said that “nothing could separate us from the love of God.”  And also, it makes it so much clearer why this kind of perfect love would cast out fear—because I would no longer need to be fearful about whether my friend is going to be here tomorrow, nor would I need to fear what’s going to happen next because I would have confidence of adequate warning and I would always have the giddy reassurance that I was being joined in equality on my journey.

          Absent of this, God is a foreboding presence to those who fail.  IS is a harsh realization of our ongoing inadequacy.  And love is a threatening restriction with only occasional pay-offs of satisfaction.

            God is love.

          Your journey-joiner is waiting. 

          You might want to give Him a call.

Love (875)

August 15^th, 2010

            I love you just the way you are.

            Some guy wrote those words in a song for his wife—whom he later divorced.

          Are we capable of that kind of love?  Here’s a better question—should we be capable of that kind of love?  Better still—is that really love?  I mean, is it essential for us to love people “just the way they are?”  Actually, does that kind of love produce the IS Factor—realism?  For you see, lust can get awfully worked up and say almost anything to get its paws on the prize. 

          I guess since the three words we’re discussing are God is love, it might be a good idea to ask what God thinks about love, or how does God implement love?

          First, let me once again impart to you my definition of love. I’ve shared it before.  Love is a committed affection.  When it’s just a commitment, it can be rather stagnant and boring.  When it’s merely affection, it suffers from goopy and temporary.  It’s when the two emotions merge at just the right juncture, that commitment and affection form a bond of love.  So in our pursuit of unconditional love, which, in our arrogant society, literally means “take me or leave me,” we have an awful lot of people who do take each other, use each other until they become distasteful of one another, and then abuse each other until it’s time to leave.

          I don’t think idealism is the best way to approach love.  I think it may seem appropriate in the moment of passion, but in the long run, disappointment weighs heavier in the human heart than hope. 

          So what is love?  A committed affection.  But since our three-word mantra, God is love, equates God with love, how does God impart His love?

          To me this is rather simple, and it may be the core essence of what God’s unconditional love truly is as opposed to what we might dream it to be.  God’s perception of love is a committed affection which, by its very nature, says, “I’m not going anywhere while you discover what you want to be.” 

          To me that’s God.  God doesn’t approve of everything that goes on within the borders of this world.  But granting us free will to discover better OR worse ways to do things is the manner in which God allows His love to be expressed—without constantly jerking it away from us because of our frequently-demonstrated bad manners. 

          In my world, love is turning to folks and letting them know that I understand they are on a quest to discover who they really want to be and that I have located the waiting room, and will be there when they come out of their own surgery of self-awareness.  By the way, I’ve also located the candy machines, the free coffee in the lobby and have selected a particularly interesting magazine, because there could be a long delay.

          I cannot tell you I love you just the way you are—because just the way you are could be killing you.  I cannot tell you my love for you is unconditional, because deep in your heart you would disrespect me for not being cognizant of my need to change.

          Love is a committed affection which says, “I’m hanging around while you discover what you want to be.”  I don’t think it can get better than that.  I don’t think we can tell people who are addicted, frustrated, depressed, angry or self-destructive, that in their present condition they can continue to relish their existence and grow.  There is a need at times for a silent disapproval accompanied by a present and obvious support.  This is what makes love not only work in the reality of IS, but also work in the ultimate eternity of God.

          I want to do more than make you happy at this particular juncture of time.  I want to see you find your personal happiness.  To me, that’s God.  It is the reason I believe in God because I see that life itself is empathetic to that same philosophy. 

          None of us can continue in vice and stupidity without expecting repercussions.  The judgments are not harsh and rarely permanent, but they are definite and certain.

          So what is love?  By all means, affection, and deep-rooted emotional bonding that brings tears to the eyes and a chill down the spine with passion.  It is also a commitment—a decision to stay with something and see it through because the pursuit of another adventure is merely chasing the tail of love and being disappointed when you arrive at the head.

          But finally, love is also a decision to hang around while our lover, our friend, or even our neighbor, goes on a quest to discover what they really want.

          So we have all the elements—God, Is and Love.   

          So why don’t I meet you on Monday and we’ll put them together and see if we can’t make this puzzle shine with promise?

Is (874)

August 14^th, 2010

            IS.

          Well, I guess it’s time to get back to the three words that end up determining earth’s emotional rotation—because there is an emotional rotation to the earth—a feeling that either propels us forward, thrusts us backwards or leaves us in despair, counting our difficulties.

          God is love.

          I spent a couple of days talking to you about God.  There are those who contend that the removal of God from the equation of humanity would only improve the plight of people, because religion creates such strife.  But honestly, people would still find a reason to be strifeful—even if it were debating the favored texture of an orange peel.   At least with God you can bear fruit instead of merely discussing it.

          But the next word in the three-word process happens to be IS.  IS, by its very nature and possibly definition, grants us an insight into the reality of the present moment. 

          Reality—we are obsessed with it—so much so that now we have reality shows which are unrealistic until people insist that the ideas presented in them are viable and begin to imitate them.  And then we say, “Aha!  You see?? It is reality!”  Actually, it’s a reality of our own contrivance rather than a reality that existed prior to our interference.

          Some people swear by the IS philosophy, for the notion of God either repels them or annoys them with its ambiguity, and the pursuit of love is deemed to be either sappy or fatalistic.  In other words, God doesn’t really care and love is too hard to share.  So the IS people feel compelled to deal with the present situation and call it reality and take their predictable shot.  They tend to fall into two categories:  (1) Life sucks.  (2)  Life is beautiful.

          Anybody who spends more than twenty-four hours on planet earth can pretty well verify that neither philosophy is accurate or self-contained.  For after all, life doesn’t really suck, and when it’s not particularly very good, we usually get a good amount of notice of upcoming trouble.  So if we ignore these warnings, we often will end up holding ashes and dust in our hands, looking for somebody to blame.  Life is as good as anything.

          Likewise, life is not beautiful—because life comes with guidelines, pre-conceived ideas, a natural order and human beings who are quite uncooperative.  When we try to surround ourselves with ideal, positive circumstances that will only generate feelings of beauty and goodness, we first eliminate at least half of our relatives, ninety per cent of our friends and nearly all of our opportunities.  Nothing comes pre-packaged or ready to eat unless it has too many preservatives in it.

          IS people want to encapsulate the journey through time that we call our lifespan and characterize it in such a way that it can be handled and expected, whether that selection is negative or positive. 

          Life does not work that way.

          So IS people often ignore God in favor of effort or nature—and they’re very jaded about love.  They believe it is either elusive or they’re waiting for some eternal soul-mate who has apparently been delayed by traffic.  You may ask, how can they believe in a meant-to-be soul-mate when God is unlikely to them?  It’s because we human beings all take a little bit of everything we don’t believe to form our individual grocery bag of treasures that we cook up on the stove and serve for dinner.  It is a mish-mash of meaningless clichés that not only don’t jive, but often contradict one another.

          I, for one, am weary of people putting violence, mayhem and murder in movies and on television under the guise that it’s realism.  I am a well-traveled man and I have never been murdered, nor known anyone who has been murdered.  Yet in the process of one night’s television, I am witness to at least five.  That is not IS.  (And please forgive that sentence…)  That is a concession to either doom and gloom or peace and love by people who do not want to deal with God and are not certain of the motives of love.

          The glut of IS people grows.  Why?  Because it is much easier to believe that life is an unpredictable accident only changed by chance than to desire a world where God stays involved by changing our attitudes with love as the by-product.

          IS equals reality.  Or does it?  If realism leaves you pessimistic OR optimistic, it is not actually real—because what is real is that life is neither primed to hurt us or help us.  Life is an available blank canvas, waiting for the artist in us to paint a picture. 

          Life sucks only if you’re looking for reasons to prove your theory.  Life is beautiful only if you avoid contact with human beings and circumstances.

          So that takes us around the corner to our final part of the three-piece puzzle. 

            Love. 

God – Part Two (873)

August 13^th, 2010

            God had just finished the natural cycle and chain of events for Universe Eight.  Universe Eight had been a series of geometric configurations colliding into one another, creating color, sound and transcendence.  Difficult to explain.  But it was over. 

          God wanted to do something different with Universe Nine.  God wanted to become part of His own creation.  God wanted to gain personage.  God wanted to be more than a force or an energy, but instead, to personify the very creation He ushered into being.  Perhaps better stated—exemplify. 

          So God created Universe Nine—and at the same time, welcomed Himself.  Yes, God became a “He.”  (Or a “She” depending on your particular rendition of the story.)  The important thing to understand here is that God ceased to be an It.  God allowed Himself to be birthed with His new universe, to grow alongside it.  He was quite excited.

          So having just been born, He created a universe that was basically not very well formed and needed to grow.  Can I also mention that it required some immediate attention?  So in His infant stages, He crawled along and welcomed light, water, and a few basic single cells as the beginning of newness, to crawl out of the water and start the process.  God smiled.  It was good.  And he called it Earth, because He was just learning how to speak Himself. 

          Years and years and years passed, as more animals began to spawn out of His great plan, God reached what we might call, in human speaking, about five years of age.  He wanted a friend.  He wanted a playmate.  The latest evolution—monkeys—were nice, but a little too fidgety for conversation.  So God took the better designs of everything and placed a Spirit inside and made human beings.  At first, one; then it seemed strange not to have a pair.

          God was able to have playmates, so He made a playground where they all could cavort and enjoy one another.  He inserted into this new creature something He had always felt was important—free will.  So He wasn’t completely surprised when this new human being exercised the right.

          So humans went one way and the young child, God, went off another direction and pouted.  It didn’t go well for a while.  And finally, God, now about six years old, had kind of a temper tantrum and decided to kill some of them off.  If you believe the entire story, it was everybody.  But you know how the press is.

          Yes, God threw a fit and was really mad that He made people in the first place.  But when He saw them die, He was really sad that He had gotten mad.  Dare I say that God did a lot of growing up that day? 

          He decided not to be personally in charge of rain and weather and hot and cold, like some sort of handyman at an apartment complex.  So He created Nature—to take care of the fine details of earth’s day-to-day comings and goings. 

          It became the playing field, and God, now seven years old, started looking for a family.  He wanted all humans to know how much He loved them, and was really like them—because He, too, was growing up beside them.  So He chose a people, and for centuries, He worked with them, hoping they could become the light of the world and the salt of the earth.  They didn’t.  Free will, you know.

          So when God reached His twelfth birthday, He decided it was time to reveal Himself as the emerging Being and fellow-traveler that He was.  He inhabited the human body of a man named Jesus.  His thought?  That His fellow human-travelers—His creation—just lacked the visual necessary to understand His heart.  In other words, if they saw another human being who also had compassion and love for them, they would finally get it.  They didn’t.

          So on his thirteenth birthday, humans killed Him.  They were jealous—or they weren’t.  They were so smart they were dumb.  Or they were so religious that they really knew nothing about Spirit.  Who knows?  So God experienced what He had never experienced in eight previous universes. 

          God died. 

          It was mankind’s gift to their Creator.  And so, since every good gift should be reciprocated, God decided to resurrect, leaving behind the residue of His presence on this planet as a great cloud of influence called the Holy Spirit.  He returned to His position as the emerging Being, paralleling His own universe. 

          Only one thing had really changed.  The teenage God had now learned the importance of allowing people to discover the whisper.  For after all, people would not be intimidated by floods.  They refused to be motivated by being chosen as a family.  And unfortunately, they would not be born again by a face-to-face encounter.  It was up to them, as humans, to notice the presence and the absence.  The presence and absence of what, you may ask?  The spiritual residue left behind by God’s visit to this earth.

          So God continued to mature, waiting for the chosen few to discover the whisper.  It’s not very difficult.  And Universe Nine will continue to orbit, collide and expand along with its Creator, as long as there are those human souls who do discover the power of the Spirit. 

          There will be no end to the cycle.—no destruction, and no need for a new heaven and a new earth—as long as least two righteous souls can be found to stumble across the ultimate truth. 

          And what is that truth? 

            We can do better.

God – Part One (872)

August 12^th, 2010

            Person, place or thing?

          From my days of studying grammar, I do believe that to be the definition of a noun. 

          God is a noun.  Now the question is whether He’s a person, place or a thing. 

          There are those who portray Him as a person—thus the use of the pronoun “Him,” or for those a bit more inclusive, “Her.”  They envision an actual being with, of course, human characteristics—face, arms, legs, and sometimes, I assume, a beard.  He seems to have a preference for donning white robes and sitting on thrones.  The trouble with a personal God is that our nature is to create things in our image, so we begin to attribute to this person of God all of our feelings, both positive and negative.  So God can be anything from an instrument of wrath to Mr. Rogers in a cardigan sweater, talking softly to children.

          Then there are those people who believe that God is more or less a place—Heaven.  Or “The Heavens.”  Or “The Creator of the Universe.”  They would deem their vision of this supernatural being to be a bit more sophisticated and even scientific.  They look on God as a provider of an eternal home after death, or as more or less an overseer who appears infrequently to make sure the production lines don’t jam up.

          Then, of course, there are those who believe God is a thing.  I suppose this is exemplified in the Star Wars series, where He’s referred to as The Force—an energy or cosmic thrust that hurls planets in the direction of an evolving cosmos. 

          Of course, there are some people who just decide that there is no God and that the absence of believing in the entity is the best way to secure intellectual soundness. 

          You can see the problem.  The personal God people always have a clear picture of what they know about God and a handful of scriptures to spew in your direction if you show up on their playground to fight.

          The God is a place people feel much superior, because theirs is more of a scientific or even ethereal view of the creative design, and not limited to an embodied being manufactured in our image.

          And then, of course, the Thing folks feel they have encompassed the wisdom of all the religions of the world by looking at God as a burst of power rather than a person interested in our daily activities or even a place of everlasting dwelling.

          So you can understand why, over the years, people have said that religion is one of the two things you should never discuss in public.  But did you ever wonder—what if they’re all right by being very wrong?  It does give me pause.

          So in tomorrow’s jonathots I would like to advance a theory about God.  Now my theory is no better than anybody else’s, and considering the vessel it’s delivered from, maybe even a little worse.  But I think if we do not clear our minds a little bit over some of the mystery of God, we will either become overly-religious or overly-cynical, and my discovery is that both camps have really folded their tents and become useless to the great human camp-out.

          So tomorrow, God—Part  2, and my little story on how the noun became a verb.

Three Words (871)

August 11^th, 2010

            Fussing. 

          I don’t like fussing, even though I do my share of it.  It’s probably another example of something I tolerate in myself and eschew in others.  But I do believe I’ve discovered the source of much of the fussing in human existence.  It’s really a battle over the interpretation and application of three words.  And just so you’ll know, those three words are neither “I am Republican” or “I am Democrat” or “I am religious” or “I am agnostic.”  Those are the profiles people select once they have chosen to align behind one of the three words.  And since the words actually appear together, it might occur to us that they were intended to be a great rock and roll band instead of solo acts off to make their own album project.

          But undoubtedly, of these three words, almost everybody has a favorite one, and plans on riding it either into eternity, the grave, infamy or legend.  The three words are:  God is love.

          Seems pretty simple, doesn’t it?  Almost an equation—in other words, God equals love.  But since most of us don’t understand either end of the theorem—God or love—much of the debate seems to be over what the equals sign means.  Or people choose up sides on one side of the equation or another, and focus all of their efforts towards rallying allies to their cause.

          So I’d like to take the next couple of days and talk about this, because I think if we’re able to identify where people are coming from, it is much easier to get along with them.  And as you may well know, I am not a great proponent of trying to change people into my image, but rather, find a way to cohabitate and then let God and the natural order sort out all of our efforts in the end. 

          For after all, Jesus told a parable of a sower who sowed seed, and then in the nighttime some joker came along and threw some weeds into the mix.  Well, when the plants started growing up, it became obvious there was a travesty going on and that weeds were mixed with good seed.  Being human, in the story, the farmers wanted to go in and chop away all the bad growth.  But in Jesus’ parable he said, “Leave it alone.  Let it grow.  When harvest time comes we can sit and sort it all out.”

          I like that.  I like to let things grow and play out and just kind of work themselves to a conclusion.  But in the meantime, since we have a human life to live, and conversation is a great benefit to that experience, why don’t we try to understand the different interpretations of the three words God is love, so we can better comprehend where our neighbor really lives and maybe make it easier to love him or her as ourselves.

          So tomorrow, in my essay, I will take on the simple subject … of God.

Dad-Um Dune (870)

August 10^th, 2010

            I’ve always afforded myself one luxury—an afternoon nap.  Actually, I prefer getting up very early in the morning and getting my work done so that I can enjoy a wonderful space of “sleepy time” right after lunch.

          Yesterday as I was finishing my nap, my twenty-three-year-old son, Jasson, walked by my bedroom door and I heard him exclaim a very quick, “Dad-Um Dune!”  It was loud enough that I could hear it, but blurted at such a speed so as to be nearly undetectable and certainly deniable if caught.

          I giggled inside.

          Even though he’s a grown man now, it’s exactly what he used to do when he was a little boy.  Being a little boy, he never quite understood why Daddy took an afternoon nap—it seemed like such a deliberate waste of running- and play-time.  And of course, while Daddy was napping, being a little boy, he had to try to nap, too, or quietly watch television.  So he developed this practice of coming up next to my door and yelling a very quick, “Dad!”  And then he would scurry away.  His hope was that I would be startled from my sleep by the unexplained noise and decide to get up, since I was already awake.  I wouldn’t be able to identify the origin of the sound—just that something had awakened me.  Apparently his plan was successful enough that he implemented it almost daily.

          It used to make me laugh.  I knew that he was tired of being tired and wanted me to get up and play.  Over the years, “Dad” became “Daddy-O” and then, for some unknown legendary reason, evolved into “Dad-Um Dune.” 

          But I learned yesterday that apparently the practice of startling Dad from a nap by a sudden burst of sound was not only still being implemented, but the tradition was being carried on with subtle nuance and great fervor.

          I just lay there yesterday on my bed and thought about all the little things—like Dad-Um Dune—that we have in our lives that are able to wash away the troubles and sooth any ache or pain. 

          For after all, Jasson is twenty-three.  But for some reason, he was tired of being tired, and he needed Dad awake.  And old habits are hard to break.

          Doggone it, who says we should?

You and Me (869)

August 9^th, 2010

            You and me.

          I’m pretty sure that’s right—although sometimes my mind goes through grammatical contortions to decide whether it might be “you and I.”  But even if it’s incorrect, it’s coming from a sincere heart.

          Which is my point.  I have become a happier man since I realized that most things are between you and God.  It is amazing how liberating it is to one’s soul to not have to be the conscience for another human being.  Sometimes I’m perplexed why so many people are so intense on trying to change the people around them.  I just have kind of figured it out.  There are some areas where it deals with you and me—and where it doesn’t, it’s you and God.

          Here’s a simple formula I’ve come up with:  Eat it, wear it, do it, believe it. If you’re going to make me eat it, wear it, do it or believe it, it suddenly becomes betwixt you and me.  It’s my business.  And because you’re trying to force your business into my business by making me eat it, wear it, do it or believe it—well, we’ll probably have to chat.  But if you don’t, I’m completely comfortable with your circumstances being between you and God.

          For instance, if you’re Baptist and you like to dunk people, I hope you enjoy it—as long as you don’t sneak up behind me and cast me into the pool of life.

          If you’re a Moslem and you’re thrilled with your faith, may God bless you or, perhaps better stated, Allah—but keep in mind that I probably will not join your ranks because I like my women veil-less.

          If you’re a Republican or a Democrat, go ahead and have a party.  Just understand that I won’t be joining you and bringing my own anything.

          If you’re a Pentecostal, it’s completely fine with me whatever you do with your tongue—just as long as you allow me to remain English speaking.

          If you’re a lady, please allow me to be the gentleman that God intended me to be.

           And if you’re NASCAR, feel free to circle the track one time for me—because I like to do my driving straight ahead.        

          And likewise, if you’re gay, I wish you well as long as you will let me be giddy in my heterosexual bliss.

          As long as I don’t have to eat it, wear it, do it or believe it, it’s really none of my business.

          There are a few things that are between you and me—and everything else is between you and God.  I’ve done a little judging in my life and it was the most miserable experience I’ve ever had—because it’s impossible to make everybody happy. 

          I don’t know how God plans on doing it, but I’m glad it’s His problem.  So you will never have any fussing or trouble with me as long as you don’t make me eat it, wear it, do it or believe it.  Everything else is between you and God.

          And I’ll tell you right now—it’s a better choice.