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Talk Avoids Cheap (#828)

June 30th, 2010

Talk is cheap. 

You’ve heard the expression, probably first uttered by someone watching Congress on CSPAN or just returning from some sort of committee meeting.  Then there’s talk shows.  It’s a good name for them.  Lots of show; very little grow.

But in the case of human sexuality, talk avoids cheap.  

When human beings fail to talk about their situations, their feelings or their curiosity, decisions are often made without adequate consideration.

 Too bad.  Talk avoids cheap.  Having had six boys come through my household, I realized very early on the importance of talk.  Initiating conversation among human beings is the only true way to uncover the internal sensations that lead to lifetime decisions. 

I recommend a little morning test for everybody.  Shall we call it the “How Am I” test?  Most of us have that minute or two minutes when we first wake up in the morning before we climb out of bed, when we commence to consider the day before us.  But instead of just allowing a stream of consciousness to wash over you, go ahead and have a talk with yourself.  It can be out loud or it can be internal, it makes no difference.  Just take a moment and be still and ask yourself the following five questions:

1.     How am I emotionally?  For after all, it will be out of the abundance of your heart that you will speak during the day.  If you’re emotionally cluttered, frustrated, unclear or enraged, then your words will carry an edge that you never anticipated. 

What should be our emotional profile?  Clean.  What is clean?  Clean, very simply, is that everything of the previous twenty-four hours has been thought through, addressed and handled to the best of our ability.  That’s clean.  Every good teacher erases the blackboard before beginning the daily lesson.  Wednesday is not able to handle Tuesday’s problems.  If you lay Tuesday’s emotional conflict onto Wednesday, Wednesday will not only resent it, but will fail to deliver the flexibility to make the day productive. 

Clean.  Sometimes we aren’t.  That may be one of the greatest things about email—rolling out of bed and tapping out a message to someone saying, “Sorry about yesterday.  I plan on doing better today.”  Or “I  just want to let you know that yesterday is forgotten and I’m ready to move on.”

     How am I emotionally?  Clean.

2.     How am I spiritually?  Some people like to begin their day with devotion and prayer.  So be it.  I don’t prefer to begin my day with devotion and prayer because I am frightened that I’m going to cement my own doctrines and religious leanings into place instead of allowing my spirit to be TRANSPARENT. 

     What we’re looking for, spiritually, is transparency.  In other words,  this is what we believe, but we’re prepared and open to the possibility of so much more.    Spirituality was never meant to be a box in which to encase our beliefs, to protect them from outside interference.  If it is truly spiritual, it will endure the test of time.  It will survive the cynic’s investigation and it will have the capacity and take a deep breath and receive fresh air.  We must all beware of a spirituality that makes us sure instead of pure.

3.  How am I mentally?  We certainly overestimate the power of a determined mind.  The best profile to have at the beginning of any day is questioning.  The mind is much more efficient when it’s probing for information instead of trying to remember well-rehearsed speeches.  We’re just better people when we question ourselves, when we question injustice, when we question the wisdom of repeated behavior, and even when we question God.  Anything that will not endure a battery of inquiries coming from the human brain is not really worthy of further contemplation. 

     How am I mentally?  I’m questioning.  It may be the only true way to get answers.

4.  And then, how am I physically?  Some folks think you have to feel at the top of your game to achieve anything.  But I find that physical stamina is triggered by willingness.  Often the burst of energy we desire to perform tasks does not arrive until we’re in the middle of the endeavor.  So physically, I look for the sensation of being willing.  Once my body is aware that it needs to do something, and I find a couple of good reasons to do it, that generates willingness, and a sensation of excitement gradually arrives.

5.  And back to my theme, how am I sexually?  I suppose, in some sort of flamboyant arrogance, some folks would respond, “Primed and ready!”  Very humorous.  I think the correct answer, at least for me, is “Humbly curious.”  Humble in the sense that there is so much more to discover about myself that one lifetime hardly seems sufficient; and curious because sexuality, like spirituality, is never mastered, only welcomed in with a childlike heart.

     You see, talk avoids cheap.  It allows us to pull our better parts towards more satisfying conclusions. 

·        How am I emotionally?   Clean.  Yesterday is put away, giving room for a fresh morning.

·        How am I spiritually?  Transparent.  There are things I believe, but I am prepared to have them enhanced instead of entombed.

·        How am I mentally?  Questioning.  A brain that refuses input also festers in its inadequacy.

·        How am I physically?  Willing.  That’s really all the bones and muscles want to hear.  We are going to do this, so we might as well do it with a bit of pomp and circumstance.

·        And finally, how am I sexually?  Humbly curious.   It’s what makes us adorable to one another—not preening over our prowess but rather, gently making ourselves available.

I think it’s the secret to raising good children.  I think it’s the secret to being the kind of person who is worthy to raise children.  I believe it’s the secret to having a God in heaven who actually will listen to our intimate thoughts.

Talk avoids cheap.  It keeps us from reacting with the fury of our present explosion of intention, and instead, allows us to voice what we feel rather than acting it out.  Once you allow the great conversation of life to occur and you get up every morning and find out how you really are, taking that internal inventory, then you begin to notice that the world is not quite divided into opposing camps as much as our culture might promote.  You notice that sexuality is not a war, or even a conflict, but rather, a tremendously delightful negotiation.

Because after all—men and women both want it.   

It Doesn’t Go Away (#827)

June 29th, 2010

“He’ll get over it.”

Or how about this one?  “She’s going through a phase.”

These are two of the common assertions given by parents about their children in various situations during the growing-up years.  Sometimes we’re right.  For instance, it’s hard to believe they’re going to be picking their noses when they’re forty—at least not in front of others.  She will probably not remain obsessed with Barbie (unless, perhaps, when she steps on the scale to weigh herself). 

Here’s a news flash:  human sexuality is not going away. 

It is neither a twenty-four-hour virus or a bacterial infection that can be healed with a shot of penicillin, although some people might giggle and disagree with that.  It is not only present and prevalent, but pertinent to completing the package of our personhood.

When it first arrives it provides a very necessary jolt to the doldrums of adolescence.  For after all, in those teen years, it may appear that the brain has shut down, either for repair or waiting for parts.  But sexuality arrives to juice up the emerging human with ENERGY.  Yes, we even call it sexual energy. 

It is a delicious blending of an ability suddenly thrust upon us, combined with curiosity requiring information.  If it is channeled in the correct direction instead of onto a website on the internet, the energy brought about by puberty and sexual discovery is awe-inspiring.  It is a time for teaching ourselves the power of the gift, the best ways to use it, the way to be a man without being over-bearing and to be a woman without seeming helpless. 

If we try to pretend it is a passing fad that we hope will soon go away, that energy that could have been constructive in human beings is changed to deception.  When people start having to hide their sexual inclinations, the deception of that process is so far-reaching into their personalities that it begins to form their profile, approach and thinking around others.  It is nasty.

I will go so far as to say that seventy per cent of the deception we battle within ourselves has its origin in repressing our sexual energy.  The other thirty per cent was acquired to protect our secrets.

But if we allow the energy to express its curiosity—to find answers and attain correct procedures—we can enter adulthood and achieve a sexual life-style that grants us partners to help us discover SECURITY.

There is nothing that makes human beings more insecure than sexuality unaddressed as energy, which has become a deception.  That is why many people end up with multiple partners and failed relationships. 

Can I say it loud and proud?  No one is going to dazzle anyone else with their sexual prowess.  What we can do is take the energy from our youthful discovery and bring it into adult relationships.  Then, through conversation, understanding and just downright pleasure-seeking, we discover the security of being loved by someone else. Their gift to us?  They are dazzled. 

If we don’t find that security, what enters the sexual experience of the average person is old-fashioned frustration.  It’s where the “blame game” arrives.  We blame our parents, we blame our partners, we blame the church, we even blame God because supposedly sexuality is so screwed up.

They make movies about it.  They contend in these flicks that men and women are completely incompatible.  That’s because the energy during the birth of our sexuality is suppressed, creating deception, so instead of arriving at adulthood with the security of a burgeoning relationship, we bounce around in confusion and end up sexually frustrated.

But if we don’t, and instead find the security of an ongoing relationship that is both adventurous and tender-hearted, we can go into our later years of our sexuality, and instead of turning into a bunch of prudes or frustrated old roosters and hens who cluck out discontentment, we can gain the wisdom of pleasure.

Because after all, it is a well-known fact that the older you get, the more you can not only enjoy sex, but the more necessary it is for your health and well-being.  It becomes wisdom to us—a twinkle in our eye that lets everybody know that we are satisfied—emotionally, spiritually, mentally and of course—bing-bong!—physically.

If we don’t reach our mature years having achieved this wisdom of the power of our sexuality, then we will enter a phase I shall call a “second adolescence,” where we try to regain the sexual energy of our youth and end up in foolishness.  I’m talking about that stupid affair.  I’m talking about dumping someone you love for someone you just desire.  I’m talking about extolling the value of pornography in order to incite stimulation. 

Is there anything more gross than a balding, aging man sucking in his gut, thinking he’s nineteen again?  Is there anything more ridiculous than a mature woman shooting herself with Botox and artificially pumping up her breasts?  You would have to laugh if you weren’t already crying.

But if you arrive at your mature years with the wisdom of knowing your sexual inclinations and having self-awareness, you can enjoy the security of a relationship nurtured and giggled its way to maturity over the years, receiving, as the by-product, the energy of youth.

But if your sexuality was denied and forced into seclusion, then you probably will arrive at your mature years going through some foolish experimentation which will end in frustration and will be marked by great deception.

It doesn’t go away. 

Shame on the government for failing to approach sexuality as a subject to be honored and discussed in our schools and society.  Shame on the church for relegating human sexuality to the forbidden fruit that should not be eaten from the Garden of Eden.  And shame on parents for doing everything in their power to avoid the topic, leaving their children at the mercy of mercenary sex-traders.

It doesn’t go away.  It is not only ever-present, but it is most important.  All we have to do is find out how to take this energy, turn it into security and then let it become wisdom. 

Because if we don’t, that energy will become deception leading to frustration, rendering us all foolish.

I have an idea—an idea I would like to present tomorrow in a little essay we will call: 

Talk Avoids Cheap

Sex is a Three-Letter Word (#826)

June 28th, 2010

I’m going to talk about sex—probably for a long time.  You know what they say:  people who do a lot of talking usually aren’t doing.  Be that as it may, sex is a three-letter word, not a four-letter word.  You would think it’s a four-letter word, the way some people avoid using it.  That’s because when most people think of sex, they get an immediate visual image of two people—doing it like monkeys.  Or more realistic considering the growth of obesity in our society—hippos.  But I digress. 

It might be all right to avoid the subject or keep it in the context of the privacy of the bedroom if we weren’t such sensual creatures.  For instance, I don’t think it’s necessary to mention farts in public, even though I just did.  I don’t particularly favor people bringing up the subject of vomit.  That’s because we don’t fart and vomit all the time. 

But there isn’t a moment that goes by in our lives when we are not inundated with sensual possibilities, which if left to themselves, or God forbid, repressed, only bring out more serious detriment and destruction.

Let me start out by saying that EVERYONE IS SEXUAL. 

I know that’s hard to believe.  We certainly know individuals who appear to be asexual—without any real heat coming from the gender parts.  But somewhere buried under all that inhibition, nervous energy and frustration is a sexual being that is desperately trying to escape a prison, and because of being in prison, has developed some pretty bizarre and nasty habits.

For instance, I do not know why religion so fervently avoids the subject, especially considering how sexual the Bible is.  About a week ago, someone asked me if I write R-rated movies.  I replied, “I thought about doing a movie on the Bible.  But then I would be forced to do an X-rated one.”

The scriptures certainly make no bones about such matters.  It is blunt, to-the-point and very forthcoming.  Somewhere along the line, perhaps during the Victorian era, it because gauche and unseemly to discuss sexuality in mixed company. 

Where else would you discuss it?  Do you really want men talking only to men about sex?  How about women talking just to women?  Do you want your children learning from other children about how sexuality works?

The first thing we have to understand is that everyone is sexual.  You would think that would be the end of the discussion, except the denials that come forth and the clarifications that occur over that statement create the repression and discomfort that turns sex into an unnatural part of our existence instead of one of the simplest and more easily understood functions of our human profile.

Sex is not a four-letter word.  It’s a three-letter word.  I am so glad it’s a small word, thus ending the controversy over size.  I am so glad that it is something we all share in common so that familiarity can draw us closer instead of thrusting us apart.  And I am so glad the Bible is unafraid in its approach to the subject matter. 

Now, if we can just get our religious leaders, politicians, school teachers, educators and government officials to be as equally open in the forum as they are privately in their back rooms, we should be on the verge of an awakening which will lend itself to deeper spiritual growth.

Yes, I believe the lack of spirituality in our country is caused by a refusal to deal with human sexuality.  Why do I feel that way?  Because when you take something so common to all humans and lock it in a box, you allow it to rot instead of expand.  So where is all that decay supposed to go, if not into the human spirit?  If I am physically deluded or repressed, won’t I become spiritually enraged and aggressive to others who don’t agree with me? 

I do not think we can see a spiritual awakening in our world until we have an understanding of our sensual. Everyone is sexual—even your Aunt Grace, who sports a mustache like Uncle Samuel.  The issue is, what are we supposed to do with this thing called sexuality?  What is the best approach?  Should we be a society completely sexually open?  Are there limits?  I guess that leads me to tomorrow, with the subject being …

It Doesn’t Go Away.  

G.E.M. (#825)

June 27th, 2010

Is my anger righteous?  Is my lust fruitful?  How about that passion?  Is it born of desire—to help others and myself—or just generated from my own greed?  How do I know?

Yesterday I mentioned a filter—a final question that an intelligent, pure-of-heart human should ask before proceeding full guns with the pursuit of passion.  I call it G.E.M.  (And even though I often insist that I do not like acronyms, that does not keep me from passionately using them.)

G.E.M. simply stands for God, Earth and Me.

Does God have an opinion on my anger?  Does God perhaps share my anger?  Because we know that when God was here on this earth in the person of Jesus, anger was a rather common emotion that he felt. 

Does the earth benefit from my anger?  Will life on this blue orb be benefited by my expressing it? 

And how about me?  Do I have a dog in this hunt?  Do I have an ax to grind?  Or is “me” included in the improvement, but not exclusively?

How about that lust?  What does God feel about it?  What does the earth contend will be the end result of my drive?  And how about me?  Am I going to be enriched by the inclusion of what I so desperately feel I require? 

And my passion—is it close to the heart of God?  Does the earth hum its agreement?  And me?  Am I going to feel the same way twenty-four hours from now? 

Now there’s an interesting insight.  What happens when twenty-four hours pass?  Because Jesus said “Sufficient to today is the evil you find in it.”  So any evil that actually lasts until tomorrow probably deserves a good old-fashioned butt-kicking today.  But what if it’s going to be gone tomorrow?  What if I’m merely fretting instead of finding true energy for change?  Can I let twenty-four hours pass before I act?  And if I answer “no,” is that because I’m impatient, or because the need is so great in the moment?

G.E.M. is a powerful determination on whether passion is ordained in the heavens or belched from ego.

So what if the answer is, “I don’t know what God thinks”? or “I’m not so sure the earth is involved.”  And how about this? “Of course ‘me’ is in the game.  Otherwise I wouldn’t feel this way.”

Well, that’s why it’s a trinity.  And you need the confirmation of all three participants—God, earth and me—a unanimous vote. 

Don’t expect divine blessing for something God has made clear He does not approve of.  Don’t expect to disinclude the laws of nature and be successful in your passionate endeavor.  And please don’t feel that if you fail to get an accurate measurement of your own involvement and ultimately your own benefit, that you can anticipate favorable results.

Let me give you an example.  In our hometown we have a street named after a Confederate general who was instrumental in starting the Ku Klux Klan.  It infuriates me.  I would suppose that if people want to honor him in some way, I would have no objection as long as it remained private.  But to publicly recognize the efforts of a known bigoted individual troubles me.  For a season I became passionate about it. 

So I asked myself what does God think of it?  I decided that God really doesn’t want to honor bigotry, as long as we don’t personally besmirch the name of the man involved. 

What does the earth think about it?  Well, the earth is not in favor of preferring one race over another. 

But then I came to “me.”  What was my motivation?  Did I really think removing a street sign was going to strike a blow for the cause, or merely cement already-hardening feelings into place between opposing parties?  I wasn’t satisfied that my passionate effort would bring about glory—the benefit of God, earth and me.  I passed.  Instead I tried to use that same passion to live out a non-prejudiced profile with my neighbors.  Was I cowardly?  No.  I believe I just used my passion more effectively than in a fruitless effort to change the minds of hardened heads.

G.E.M.  The final test in determining whether our anger and lust, which has unearthed passion, is suitable for human consumption. 

God.  What does He think about it?

Earth.  Does “Mother” have any insights on the subject?

Me.  What is the purity of my own heart, and the effects on m life?

It is powerful. 

It is real. 

And it is righteous.

Rated PG (#824)

June 26th, 2010

Yesterday we talked about my pal, AL —anger and lust, born of a pure heart that produces passion. 

Do not expect anything in life to be achieved without passion.  It frightens us.  It’s unpredictable.  Some would even insist it’s uncontrollable, although I would seek clarification.  But nothing was ever achieved and changed in our world without someone becoming angry and lusting for a better solution.  It creates energy.  Nothing but anger and lust initiate as much energy in the human body at all. 

So when anger and lust, birthed from a pure heart, unite, they create passion.  And how would I describe passion?  Passion can be summed up in the statement, “I can no longer be a spectator.  I must be a participant.” 

One of the signs of the lack of passion in our society is a twenty-four-hour news cycle and reality shows that allow us to vicariously view the actions of others, and judge them for their over-wrought choices.  Meanwhile, we barely have the motivation to rise from our easy chairs, having set down the remote, to make a bag of microwave popcorn. 

Evil is not manifested through anger and lust; evil finds its resting

place and headquarters with indifference.  

How do I know that I have achieved passion and that it’s not just frustrated feelings of needing to do something?  I think passion always includes the needs of others.  I believe passion is looking for a plan instead of just complaining about the situation.  And I believe passion seeks out the camaraderie of others to join in the cause.  And when it does, passion leads to glory. 

Let’s focus on that for a minute.  Very white, conservative abolitionists who were against slavery were joined by the zealous efforts of John Brown in taking Harper’s Ferry arsenal, who was further reinforced by slaves in the South rebelling against their masters, while the Republican Party nominated Abraham Lincoln, a pragmatist who was looking for a way to keep the Union together, and selected the issue of slavery to be the grounds for reconciliation—while tender-hearted Southerners who were opposed to the institution of slavery were simultaneously helping black folk  find freedom in Canada and Yankee soldiers took up weapons to fight for the cause as the English and French refused to enter the conflict because slavery became the focus. 

Do you see the linkage in varying arrays of passion?  It took all of them to free a race of human beings. 

And there you have your PG:  Passion.  Glory.

          So what is glory?  Glory is when passion allows itself to pass through one determining filter—and all passion that is truly motivated from a pure heart will end with glory.  What is that filter?  What is that determining membrane that cleanses anger and lust and passion of any potential iniquity?

          Well, that sounds like tomorrow …

My Pal, AL (#823)

June 25th, 2010

AL 

Yes.  Anger and lust are the parents of passion.

I do believe that statement would frighten people more than any other I could write on a sheet of paper.  We have been so strongly taught to avoid anger and lust in deference to appeasement and self-control that we have accidentally hatched a society of passionless humans.  Anger and lust by themselves are emotional outbursts that do not seek either spiritual or mental confirmation before they are acted out in our bodies.  This is why we fear them.  They don’t ask for prayer, they don’t seek wisdom.  They just want to do, explore and explode. 

Most of us have very little emotional body heat without the introduction of anger and lust.  Of course, when I’m speaking of anger, I’m not talking about rage, and when I’m referring to lust, I’m not referencing rampant immorality.  I’m talking about the two drives that move us forward because they seek neither spiritual nor mental confirmation before enacting their wills. 

Scary as that may be, it is what pushes our society onward.  Nothing is invented until someone becomes angry with the insufficiency of the present product.  Our society could neither be procreated nor generate any business without the introduction of lust into the equation. 

So is the key trying to find a way to temper anger and lust and bring them under our self-control?  No. 

Self-control is one of those myths manufactured by motivational writers who lost the will and spirit to complete the great American novel.  To bring anger and lust into functional units that make us passionate, what we must do is work on the purity of our hearts.  Please note, any attempt to disguise, deceive or redirect our emotions is a formula for failure.  The cleaner and more transparent we can be about what we feel, the greater the chance that our individual anger and lust can be focused into a passionate effort instead of a greedy or enraged one.

So how can we purify our hearts to welcome legitimate anger and flourishing lust to enhance our passion instead of controlling us with fits of frustration and bouts of immoral choices? 

1.  Don’t let the sun set on anything.  Don’t let it set on your anger; don’t let it set on a desire, leaving it unrequited.  Share.  And if you have no one to share with, write a journal.  And if you don’t have paper, develop a friendship with a cat or dog.  Make sure that what you feel is transformed in some way into words, so you can hear it out loud before you enact it live.

2.  Don’t be afraid to be weird.  There will be moments in your life where your appetites and desires will take a turn to the bizarre. Like everything else in life, it is seasonal.  If these weird preferences continue, maybe you should talk to someone.  But occasionally the heart wants what it wants and the emotions feel what they feel.  Don’t be ashamed.  Shame is the surest way to clog up your feelings and therefore set yourself up for a horrific explosion later.

3.  Remind yourself that work without passion is labor or fruitless and passion is achieved by the pure implementation of anger and lust.  So what IS the pure implementation of anger and lust?  Is there such a thing as righteous anger and Godly lust?  Jesus certainly said that we are to “hunger and thirst for righteousness.”  He uses appetites—hungering and thirsting—to describe the pursuit for goodness.   So it is quite possible to use the energy that is involved in anger and lust to pursue excellence.

          After all, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said that “he who is angry without a cause is in danger of judgment.”  So what is anger with a cause?  I will tell you this:  anger that is fostered by my feeling inconvenienced is rarely righteous, and lust that seeks only my own pleasure is not the completion of the Golden Rule.

So AL is my pal.  Anger and lust become the motivators to achieve passion—as long as we keep a pure heart.  For after all, when you take your anger and try to seek spiritual confirmation, it often turns into self-righteousness.  And when you take your lust and peruse your brain for purpose, more often than not, it turns into a plot rather than a passion. 

          Anger and lust come from our emotions, bypass our spirits and minds, and go right to our bodies for enactment.  That’s why “blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

          So, anger and lust make …

 

The Three Men I Admire the Most (#822)

June 24th, 2010

“The three men I admire the most

The Father, son and Holy Ghost…

Took the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”

          By Don McLean, from American Pie

 

          The Father, son and the Holy Ghost—not so much three individuals as three distinct purposes within a common being. 

The Father called Himself I Am.  I like that.  I mean, if you’re going to create the whole universe you really shouldn’t have to explain yourself to too many people. 

The son, Jesus, insisted that he was here to show us, in a human way, what the Father would be like if He were ever able to escape His cosmic duties. 

And the Holy Ghost is what we’re supposed to remember about the encounter with the son who came to show us the Father. 

Now that sounds really, really theological and fancy until you realize that we do the same thing. 

When the Bible says we’re created in God’s image, it’s not a figurative statement.  We have a person we really are.  Not many people ever get to know that person.  Then we have a selected personality which we choose to be our “show-off”—to do the deeds and perform our party function amongst the other comers and goers we meet.  And then, of course, all of our encounters leave behind a ghost—a scent—a sense of who we are that lingers and becomes our memory.

It’s really kind of a neat system, because quite honestly, there are some things I am that aren’t completely suitable for public consumption.  I am more practical, down-to-earth and, if you will, mercenary, than I need to be to interact with other human beings. 

Jesus tells a story about the keeper of the vineyard who comes and finds one of the trees not bearing fruit.  His reaction?  “Well, if it’s not going to bear fruit, cut it down.”  Although completely on point, if you’re the tree, you would hope for a bit more mercy before being chopped. 

That’s why we all need a show.  We need the better side of ourselves to come out through a philosophy that is more inclusive than our mere “I Am.”

 So when we actually leave the room—or the planet, for that matter—the remembrance of our appearance will conjure sweet concepts that will continue to flourish.  So here’s what we have:  the Father (I Am), the Son (the show) and the holy ghost (to remember).

Let me try it with myself.  Cring—the I Am; Jonathan—what I portray, my show; and Richard, the memory to remember. 

And for those of you who are uncomfortable with the term “show,” please grow up.  We all put on a show every day because if we shared our real feelings all the time, no flesh would survive.  Sometimes we have to trust the script, because our improvisation would be both confusing and devastating.

So when you put it all together, you come up with the essence of God:  

I Am the Show to Remember.

And indeed He is.

Tracer (#821)

June 23rd, 2010

Very recently I have been curious, which also makes me frightened that a cat was killed somewhere.  You see, that’s what they tell me happens if you’re too curious, and if all the things we’re told in adages and sayings end up being true.  But are they true?  Well, that’s what’s been making me curious.

So my brain has sent out a tracer, trying to find out what has transpired during my lifetime and also what might be cropping up on the horizon and if there is anything I can do about it.  You know—I mean to help.  Well, I guess I mean to help if it’s going to be a good thing, and to be my usual annoyance and disagreeable self if I think there’s some nastiness in our near future.

My parents were pat of that WWII generation, which some writer recently determined was the “greatest generation.”  I’m sure it sold him a lot of books.  My parents were very interested in morality and stability.  What is fascinating to me is that even though we ardently pursue our "sacred of sacreds,” the opposite--or enemy--of our virtuous pursuit ends up sneaking in and crawling into bed with us while we’re sleeping.  So my parents’ generation, which sought so strongly for morality and stability, ended up accidentally fostering some of the greatest immoralities in our history.

Jim Crow-ism.  Lack of women’s rights.  The Viet Nam War.  Watergate.  You know the list. 

And the stability they sought was rattled to its foundations by the Cold War, the bomb scare, rioting in the streets and the infamous generation gap. 

So my generation came along and spewed morality and stability out of our mouths in favor of passion, which we later defined as greed.  For a brief season, there actually appeared to be a passion for life and love, but soon it was replaced by body image, sexual indiscretion and ultimately, pursuit for money.

So we had kids.  And they grew up in the scare of AIDS, so they were cautious and deliberate, which is now breeding a generation which is faltering around, groping and bewildered.  After all, nothing seems safe.  Very little is sacred.  In our entertainment we prefer violence to romance, and we’re in an era in our creativity when we have poets and priests who are Xerox machines of former times instead of inventors of fresh ideas.

I guess I’ve been curious about where this can go from here and whether or not this befuddled generation can be salvaged before they procreate and make their offspring.  It is that offspring that I am concerned about the most; because what happens when befuddled people have children? 

I think that answer is easy.  This burgeoning crop of humans starts looking for a new savior.  And the saviors available today are technology and power.  That is a bit bone-chilling.

So I guess I get up in the morning wondering how to insert some tenderness back into a world that has suffered the slings and arrows of confusion.  People aren’t bad—they’re lost.  And you see, here’s the problem.  Unfortunately, I’m a people.  So I’m a little lost myself.  And I’ve become just “found” enough that I’m aware that we’re walking in circles.  It doesn’t mean I know the way out of the woods—just that I’ve noticed that we’ve passed the same tree for three decades now.

So I have a tracer on it.  Do you?  Or are you going to make that fatal mistake manifested by all aging human creatures?  And that mistake is, “We were better” and “What’s wrong with these kids?” 

Nothing. 

Maybe they just spent too much time with us.

Flying Butter (#820)

June 22nd, 2010

Alone.

Nearly sunset.

A gentle breeze.

A surrendering, hot day.

A chill of will in the air.

I had been swimming, so I was sitting, thinking about the long climb up my deck stairs to my home. 

Thinking is always easier than doing, don’t you think? 

It was so peaceful. 

My pool is near a forest and the forest is a place where I simultaneously feel a bit at home but also somewhat alien.  Maybe vulnerable would be a better word.  For after all, I tend to be a creature of comfort, not an active participant in the violent thrust of the natural order.

Sitting.

It was very quiet.

I always note how noisy nature is when beginning the day—with the birds singing their halleluiah chorus and the crickets chirping.  Or is that at night?  I forget.

Remember, I am a novice to nature.

And then a butterfly landed on the arm of the chair next to me, not more than eight inches away.  How brave.  I don’t know whether I would fly so close to a monstrous blob if I were a butterfly.  Might be better to stay at least two feet of smacking distance away.  But not this fellow.  He perched, wings completely vertical, failing to reveal all of his beauty. 

I thought it interesting that I attributed the male gender to him.  Usually we associate things like butterflies with women.  That’s because we’re still trying to figure out how to get along with each other, while desperately attempting to maintain our doubtful identity.  Anyway, he perched fearlessly.

I don’t know—I was in one of those peculiar and wonderful moods, so I observed carefully.  He refused to show his wings, keeping them completely pressed together.  Fine, I said.  Be that way.

All at once, I had this strange desire to converse with my little butterfly friend.  Maybe it was being alone, the sun setting, the chill in the air, or perhaps, the knowledge that no one would ever know (unless I was foolish enough to write about it.)

“Hello.  How are you?  Your first time to my pool?” 

I giggled at myself.  Sounded more like a pick-up line. 

But the butterfly ignored both my overtures of friendliness and certainly what must have been an avalanche of noise from my giggle.  He remained at rigid attention, less than a foot from me.

“Why don’t you come over and see me?”  I held out my finger about four inches towards him.  I continued, “I know this is very weird, and it is my first time, but I was wondering if you can actually hear me?  It would be absolutely magnificent if you could, Mr. Butterfly.  Maybe that’s the hope of our world—if someone could actually convince the other inhabitants of this globe that they could speak with a butterfly, just maybe it would stimulate us to communicate better with each other.  I don’t know why I think that.  But here.  Why don’t you just come and pop onto my finger?”

With this invitation, I pushed my finger no more than an inch-and-a-half from the butterfly’s position.  He didn’t move.  I thought that was pretty remarkable in itself.  Even absent dialogue, a butterfly unafraid is certainly the essence of a budding relationship.

All at once he turned—I guess that’s what you would call it—and I realized I had been looking at his backside, because there were his two little tentacles, facing me.  He did two little hops in my direction and opened up his wings that had been so staunchly reserved, and unfolded the beauty of his colors.  He held them for my review for a moment, closed them up, turned around, hopped away and resumed his retreated profile.

Wow, I thought.  Was it a fluke?  Did he hear me?  Or maybe it was a she that just finally decided to respond to me even though I had offended her gender sensitivity. 

It was cool.

Shortly thereafter, I got up from my chair and walked towards the gate.  Just before ascending the stairs, I turned to the butterfly—he or she—still remaining.  I said, “Thank you for the conversation.”  He or she opened her wings and flew away.

Butterfly.

Flying butter.

Golden, sweet, creamy—spreading itself across the sky.

Like I said, cool.

As I lay in bed that night and thought about my encounter with the flying butter, for a moment my incriminating mind tried to make me feel silly.  I resisted. 

For after all, if I don’t think I can speak with a butterfly and be heard, what would ever make me think that God will listen?  

Fathering – Part Four (#819)

The Finale:  Embrace?  Or Release?

June 21st, 2010

One of the most dangerous philosophies going around in our society today is the sentimental notion that “they’ll always be our kids.”

Fathering is knowing when to embrace and when to release. 

We certainly do need some wisdom.  Otherwise, we become a clinging vine wrapped around our children who are trying to grow out of our garden into their own space; or we make the mistake of not taking the moments necessary to create tenderness and push them away too soon to their own devices.  You can see it’s very important.  What do I suggest? 

I propose that to be a good father, it’s essential to be on page with age.  I think it’s actually rather elementary:

·        From birth until about the age of ten, we have a time I refer to as the “call of the cuddle.”  It is that special moment in your child’s history when cuddling is not only a pleasant experience, but essential for creating the warmth and gentleness that promotes good conscience instead of a lack of empathy with others. 

Do not be foolish.  It is a window.  And when you try to cuddle your children from the age of eleven to twenty, having not done so in the previous decade, that cuddling becomes coddling and they will use it against you to manipulate you.  Take advantage of the opportunity of their birthing into the experience of life and the warmth they feel for you to make deposits into their emotional banks they will need later in life to affirm their decisions. 

It is the call of the cuddle. And fathers, it lasts about a decade—from birth to ten.

·        Somewhere along the age of eleven or so, there is a natural distancing from the cuddle into more independence.  May I refer to this as the “age of available?”  The way you express your affection and your embrace at that point is to make sure that when they do come to you, and they do want to be close, and they do want to talk, then work is set aside, the television is muted and you make yourself available.

Don’t get discouraged.  It won’t happen very much.  Don’t be shocked.  They may even want to hug you.  But it has to be their decision.  If you walk around hugging your teen-aged children, they will receive it as coddling and a general acceptance of all their behavior.  It’s not good.  It may even feel good.  But there is a certain amount of release necessary to make true embrace valuable.

From about eleven to when your child is twenty is the “age of available.”  You will become less important to them—but not less needful.  And when they need you, you need to be available to create the emotional moments that will feel like an embrace.

·        And finally, when they are around twenty-one, you need to enter what I refer to as the “season of sameness.”  You will want to develop an adult relationship with your children.  If you try to cuddle them at that point—or coddle them—your interchange with them will curdle.  They will sour to you.  They will find you to be pushy, intervening and even, perhaps, self-righteous.  The greatest joy of fatherhood is to see your children become adults and develop a sameness of humanity with you.  You not only have been privy to the process of a human being’s birth, raised to completion, but now, you can have them as adult friends.

What a blessing.  Too many parents embrace for too long or release too soon.  Your children are neither dependent creatures incapable of reaching maturity, nor are they independent agents that should be allowed to revel in their own free will. 

There is the “call of the cuddle.”

There is the “age of available.”

And finally, there is the “season of sameness,” when they achieve equality with you in the grown-up world.

It is truly the magic of being a father.

Jesus, who came to show us God the Father, does not want to cuddle us forever.  He knows there is an age where he must be available to us as we launch into life and the pursuit of our dreams.  And then, there is a season where he allows us to become the sons of God and his equal, as he trusts us as much as we trust him.

Now that’s some good parenting.

So when you consider the struggle between providing and loving, nothing ever beats a good talk. 

And when you are bewildered over the quandary of discipline and encouragement, always realize that consistency is the only way to create balance. 

Maybe you feel pulled towards teaching or a yank towards preaching.  But avoid answering questions that have not been asked.  Instead live your philosophy out loud in front of your children. 

And finally, when determining when to embrace or release, hearken to the “call of the cuddle;” submit to the “age of available,” and then jubilate in the joy of the “season of sameness”—when you see the fruit of your labors in a viable, mature and satisfied human being.

Fathering is not maintaining children.  It is allowing them to become your equal.

Fathering – Part Three (818)

Teach? Or Preach?

June 20th, 2010

Happy Father’s Day—and how apropos that we are on the third phase of discovering the power and excitement of “fathering.” 

          So far, we have found that the potential struggle between providing and loving is negotiated by talk.  And the balance between discipline and encouragement is best accomplished by consistency. 

          Now, how about teaching or preaching?  Let’s have some definitions first:

Teach—“This is how you do it.”

Preach—“Why aren’t you doing it?”

          Both scenarios do come up in the process of parenting.  Sometimes we’re granted the luxury of having time to explain to our offspring the reasons, motivations and goals of pursuing a particular lifestyle choice.  Often we find ourselves simultaneously yelling and explaining about why choices were not made and how they should have been made better.

          Are you ready for a shocker?  Both things sound the same to kids.  I know some parents think that they only teach and never preach, and some parents believe that preaching is preferable to teaching.  Children think both are boring.  Just ask ’em.  Actually when you teach, they hear preaching anyway.  And when you preach, you just sound like an angry teacher. 

So how can we impart information to our off-spring that WILL teach them, and deliver it in such a dynamic way that it preaches the word right into their hearts?

          We need another friend to help us.  This is probably some of the best advice I can give you about fathering—three words:

Live out loud.

          Make your own personal choices obvious.  If you’re working on a project, talk to yourself in front of them so they understand your reasoning and they can comprehend the process by which you achieve your goals.  Live out loud.  Make it clear why you’re going to buy that new car or live in such a way that they understand your selection to purchase a used car instead.  You are not training your kids to be children—you are training your children to be adults.  Show them how it works.  Make your craft of life extraordinarily visible.  Leave no doubt as to your preferences.  Don’t make them second-guess your will. 

 It’s the problem we have in religion when we’re dealing with God—we have too many people who think they know the subtle mind-set of the Almighty instead of simply being faithful followers who live and react to our Father in heaven’s obvious preferences.

Likewise, you do not want your children guessing about what you think. When you see prejudice, speak it out loud.  “I don’t like that.” When there are issues of the day that are pertinent to human survival, just make it clear where you stand. 

Teaching and preaching means stopping to tell people what they already should have known by watching the progress of your life.  Don’t ever think those two are a replacement for good living.

          So at what point DO we teach and at what point DO we preach? A bit of advice:  Wait for the question.

          When your children understand your choices, they will ask you why.  Take that opportunity, in a concise way, to teach or preach at will your gospel of great humanity.  Stop answering questions that were never asked.  Instead, live out loud.  It is the best replacement for teaching and preaching until such a time as your offspring feels the need to inquire.

          Some want to teach.

Others love to preach. 

But nothing speaks with greater volume than the conviction of your own actions.

          Talk to yourself, let them hear, and then they’ll know.  If they don’t understand, they’ll ask.  If they do understand, they’ll copy what you do to the best of their ability, based upon the success they see you attain.

          So Happy Father’s Day—and take the load of teaching and preaching off of yourself, and live out the luxury of loudly producing a great human profile. 

          Well, that leads us to one final step in the process of fathering:  when to embrace and when to release.

          See you tomorrow.  

Fathering – Part Two (#817)

Discipline?  Or Encouragement?

June 19th, 2010

        God (the Father) chastises those He loves.  That’s what the Bible says.  Chastise means “disciplines.”  Actually, it connotes a fairly personal style of discipline that stings a little bit.  Trying to mix discipline and balance it with encouragement may be one of the more difficult aspects of being a good father.

          So some fathers end up being overly-zealous on their critique, while others leave the correction to the mother and come across as the amiable uncle who gives candy away when sugar is forbidden in the household.  What is the balance between discipline and encouragement?

          First, and most important, the two should never be mixed.

 It is one of the biggest errors we make in raising children.  While trying to provide instruction and discipline, we feel the need to insert long sentences filled with encouraging words; or even in the midst of encouraging our children, we will insert some sort of warning of what will happen to them if they don’t continue to be as good in the future.

          Make up your mind.

          Discipline should be quick and pointed.  It is not necessary to encourage your children while disciplining them.  And encouragement should be free of direction and clarification, and should be pure exhortation.

          To achieve this balance between discipline and encouragement, we need a friend, and as we found out yesterday—that talk is the great arbitrator between providing and loving—the counselor that makes discipline and encouragement work as two forces working together rather than a duo pulling in separate directions is consistency. 

          Your children need to know that you’re disciplining them because error has occurred needing correction, but can be forgiven if repentance is in place.  If they suspect that you’re levying punishment because you are personally frustrated or merely disappointed, they will produce a cauldron of rebellion.

          If they feel that encouragement is being given without evidence of success, your inconsistency will come across as manipulation and lying instead of an honest report on a well-done job. 

Consistency is the goal of fatherhood. 

          Your children need to know that certain behavior will produce discipline and better behavior will generate encouragement.  When you mingle the two based upon your own mood swings or your own confusion, your child will have no idea when to trust your judgment. 

 This is why families that discipline too much—as long as they do it with consistency—can raise perfectly wonderful children.  It is also true that families that use an abundance of encouragement—as long as it has consistency to it—can also release dynamic human beings into society.  But the true miracle of fathering is balancing the two—discipline and encouragement—with a great consistency.

          All seven of my sons knew one thing—there was only one cardinal sin.  Lying.  I didn’t care if they failed; I wasn’t enraged if they inconvenienced me.  The consistency was that lying was the enemy of our household.  So discipline occurred when lying reared its ugly head, and encouragement ensued when truthfulness won the day.

          They could count on it.

          Now there’s a wonderful phrase.  As a child of God, I benefit from His supreme wisdom because I can count on Him for His consistency.  It is powerful.

          What is the balance between discipline and encouragement?  Consistency.  Yes—there is a great value when your child turns to his friends and says, “I know exactly what my Dad would do.”

          Tomorrow we will talk about finding the niche between “teach” and “preach.”  

Fathering – Part One (#816)

Provide?  Or Love?

June 18th, 2010

I’m not so sure “fathering” is an actual word; it certainly isn’t one we normally use.    The usual, common term is “mothering.”  I think it’s because our society is mainly preoccupied with the mother of the family, and the father tends to alternate between the role of ditsy and absent.

I’ve had the pleasure and honor of fathering seven sons—four of my own making and three young gentlemen I adopted.  (In reality, I should say that due to my youthful lust and virility, I introduced the possibility of fathering into my life, and for the final three, necessity and passion intervened to foster a new scenario.)

No, I don’t think I ever actually planned to be a father.  If planning to be a father was necessary for procreation, we would all be stuck in committee somewhere, on the way to extinction.  Thank God, it was a necessary by-product of my own horniness, or I would have missed out on one of the greatest opportunities available. 

All of my gentlemen are grown and adult.  So I’m going to take the next few days on this Father’s Day weekend to talk to you about what I learned and the little dab I know about the experience. 

First of all, let me say that fatherhood is an ongoing battle between opposing desires or demands.  Finding a balance between these struggling values is what creates good parenting.  The two I would like to talk about today which seem to conflict with each other, are “provide” and “love.”  Because after all, every father wants to be a good provider, while simultaneously wanting to love his offspring.  Often, providing demands an absence that may make it seem as if the pursuit of love has been vacated.

There are men in this country who have to hold two or even three jobs just to keep the wolf from the door.  At the same time, their children are busy with church, school, sports and activities, making interaction infrequent.  Therefore the expressions that bring love to life become limited.

Is it more important to provide?  Or to lessen the fiscal responsibility, allowing for more physical contact?  It is a tormenting choice.  Sometimes men have a life separate from their families, where they work and do most of their living to provide a paycheck which becomes their symbol of devotion.  (Of course, I realize this is true with women also, but please allow me to focus on men for this particular series.)

So how does a father balance the two prevalent needs of provide and love?  Every battle can certainly use an arbitrator—and I believe the battle in fathering between providing and loving is good old-fashioned talk.

If your children understand why you’re pursuing and doing what you’re doing—even taking a moment to achieve their approval or request their involvement—then providing can appear to be love.  If you talk to your kids about love when you have those precious times to share with each other, interfacing as a family, then love can appear to be providing.

The two ARE the same, but can look quite different without the value of talk.  The greatest aid to fathering children is learning how to talk to them without lecturing, making small conversation or asking them about their schoolwork.

Children need to know that you care about them as individual people instead of just being an investment you’ve made into what you hope to be a prodigy.  Talk is the great arbitrator between provide and love. 

You can start this at an early age.  You can sit down with your five-year-old child and say the following:  “I love you so much that this week I saved ten dollars out of our family budget for you to purchase a toy.  Now, I know what you want costs twenty dollars.  But this week we have ten dollars, so you can either save this ten dollars and mix it with next week’s money to get your toy, or you can spend it on something else this week.  But I am so excited that we were able to set this aside just for you so that you can make your choice and know how much we love you.”

Too deep, you say?  I don’t think so.  If you treat your children like they’re ignorant, don’t be surprised when they succumb.  Involving the children too much in family finance?  No.  The earlier humans learn about the power of solvency, the less frightened and deceptive they will need to be.

Without talk, fathers tend to err too much on the providing side or on the loving side.  If they err on the providing side, they come across as calloused and distant.  And if they err on the loving side, they often appear to be weak and needy.

Your children need to know that you have dreams, and that you’re not sacrificing those aspirations to be a father, but rather, using them to provide for your family and demonstrate how a man functions in the pursuit of excellence.  Your children also need to know that they are loved—even when distance has created a chasm—yet there is no gap in their comprehension of your ever-present feelings of joy in having them.

Talk to your kids.  Sometimes, even include them in the conflicts that come up in making your decisions, because the most flattering thing you can do to another human being is to let him know you consider him while you’re providing and when you’re loving.

So in the seeming conflict between providing and loving, the best ally is talking.  Don’t ever assume that young people know why you’re doing what you do and what you feel about it.  Make it clear and they will give you the gift of feeling freedom to be honest with you.

Well, we’ve made a start of it—this thing called fathering.  Tomorrow we’ll talk about the battle between discipline and encouragement. 

See you then.  

 

Antiseptic (#815)

June 17th, 2010

          During a recent family gathering, one of my grown sons was telling a story about his youth—a story that involved me.  He was playing soccer in middle school and his team had just defeated their opponents soundly.  There was a lot of rejoicing and clapping that followed and the opposing team’s coach became offended, thinking that my son and his comrades were jeering and insulting his boys.

          So he called both teams into the middle of the field and began to lecture them on good sportsmanship and how “it’s not important who wins, but how the game is played.”  As my son told the story, he related that I became infuriated, came on the field, got him and as I left, turned and mocked the visiting coach, chanting, “Poor loser!  Poor loser!  Poor loser!”

          Now my son was very proud of this moment, and giggled all during the telling of the tale, but the other folks at the table were not quite as impressed with my little escapade.  Nor was I, for that matter.  Would I do the same thing again?  No.  Am I proud of what I did?  No.  But I don’t believe we can go through our entire lives trying to clean up our old mistakes or rebuke ourselves for how we acted in specific moments.

          It reminds me of the word “wrought,” which is usually associated with the phrase, “what God hath wrought.”  We pretty much only use this word when we’re talking about being “over-wrought.”  It seems to be our greatest fear.  We live in a time when sensitivity is praised and passion is viewed as unnecessary, or even unwarranted.  I’m a passionate person.  My passion has allowed me to create many beautiful things.  It has also caused me to say and do numerous stupid things.

          But if I were to take an antiseptic and try to sponge away all of my stupidities, in the process I would probably eliminate the passion that permitted me to create. 

I don’t know why we can’t get comfortable with the fact that we’re human beings.  We keep trying to make everything all right and in the process, we’re painting our society beige.

          I didn’t join in the laughter around the table about the story.  I didn’t brag about what I did.  But I also didn’t apologize—because it is a part of who I am, and in the process of “wroughting” things, there is always the possibility of becoming over-wrought. 

          I can’t take a cleanser or an antiseptic spray to all the things I’ve done wrong in my life.  What I can do is blow away the dust of ignorance and try to find the seed of passion that causes me to do better things.

          I should never have yelled at that coach.  He should never have lectured the boys because they were excited about winning a game.  Which one is worse?  I guess, in my thoughts of energy and desire, it’s better to raise up a generation of young men who want to win and are excited about the results than to calm everyone down so we can drone out a lifeless existence.

          At least that’s the way I see it.

          I’m happy that today I would not yell at the coach.  But I will not go back and try to cleanse all of my own unrighteousness, for fear that in the process, I would rob myself of any true identity.

Seemed Like a Good Idea (#814)

June 16th, 2010

Tim and Nancy build my deck,

Ee-i-ee-i-o.

It’s not really a song; it’s a reality.  A husband-and-wife contractor team, Tim and Nancy, built my deck.  It runs from the back door of my house, down a steep hill to my pool, which I built—or I guess constructed—because I insisted on having one even though the slope of the land was not necessarily conducive to it. 

The decking was quit elaborate and beautiful.  For several days it was the talk of the community.  Matter of fact, I think Tim and Nancy got some extra work from my dear neighbors because of the appearance of my lovely decking.  Even though I’m not good with distances, I would say the decking runs about fifty or sixty yards down the back of my lawn to the awaiting pool.  It is quite delightful.

And when I built it (or shall I say, had it built, since I have a pernicious difficulty in nailing things down), I was ten years younger.  Even then, the descent and climb to and from the pool on those steps was a bit challenging.  But as each year has past, the steps on the decking have seemed to gain greater steepness—so much so that I have thought about calling Tim and Nancy and asking them if it’s possible that my land is sinking, therefore increasing the upgrade of my climb.

But I never made the call because deep in my heart, I know that the steps are not becoming more difficult.  It’s just that I seem to be coming to a place where my aging muscles do not favor the process.

It got me to thinking.

Do good ideas have an expiration date?   I mean, are there things that once were brilliant and over the years deteriorated to adequate, and now lounge around in the realm of ludicrous?  There are many things I used to think were good ideas that I have just quietly walked away from in favor of wiser choices. 

Perhaps it’s the reason that we’re not able to decide for other people what is the preferred path—because what may seem to be a brilliant notion to us, for others may either seem too inventive or extraordinarily outdated.

Are there universally good ideas?  Somebody might say love is a universal concept that should be eternally embraced.  But even within that spectrum, the 1960’s rendition of “free love” didn’t prove to be everlasting.  Tough love was just downright mean.  And I do not the over-wrought concept of unconditional love that is propagated today will rise too much longer on its gossamer wings.

I think it’s why Solomon said, “To everything there is a season.”  It’s not because we’re fickle, it’s because if we’re doing this thing right, we’re moving forward, which means we often have to bury our stupidities in shallow graves and kiss old ideas good-bye.

I still climb up and down my deck to go to my swimming pool.  But now, I view it as enduring a trial and tribulation to the betterment of my overall soul.  Well, actually I don’t.  I just realize that in a few minutes it will all be over, so why complain about it for the next hour?

Yes, there’s a good rule.  You should never be able to complain about anything longer than it actually lasts.  Because good ideas don’t last.  That’s why the greatest gift we have is a creative mind. 

And one thing is darned tootin’ for sure:  we’re going to need another idea tomorrow.

Sometimes It’s Enough (#813)

June 15th, 2010

 Sitting in a breakfast room at a motel in Kokomo , Indiana , I encountered two couples who were Amish.  I observed how kind and considerate they were to each other and to those around them.  I walked out that day becoming a bit gentler myself.

          Standing in a long line at the grocery store waiting to be checked out, the manager opened up another register, and a man behind me quickly moved his cart over there, jumping ahead of everyone else.  I didn’t like him.  So I got even.  The lady who came in line behind me had only two items, so I let her go in front of me.  So there, Mr. Pushy Cart Fellow.

          I perched myself on a park bench and watched as a little boy played on a pile of dirt.  He had no toys but he was gleefully involved in some deep drama of discovery.  I giggled—and when I left, I became much more playful with my own pile of stuff.

          I do believe it’s Exit 65 on I-65 in Kentucky where, on the left side of the road, there is a huge billboard that reads HELL IS REAL, and on the right side of the road there is an adult bookstore.  So much like this country—always trying to extol the extremes.  So symbolically AND literally, I drove between the two. 

Sometimes it’s enough.  Sometimes we see things that are really good and just quietly go out and do our rendition of them.  I guess I would be a firm believer in motivational thinking if I really saw it motivate anyone.  I guess I would be a great advocate of fervent Bible-reading if I saw folks walking away from the black leather-bound book with a smile on their faces instead of crinkled brows.  Because sometimes it’s enough to see what doesn’t work and to just religiously avoid it.

I might even think about joining a political party if I really thought politics would help anyone.  Or I might decide to grow up and become adult if it didn’t appear to be so miserable.

Sometimes it’s enough to act out the good we see and repel the bad.  Sometimes it’s all we’ve got—all the philosophy, spirituality, sociology, psychology and culture fail us—because they are full of ideas which often, when applied to the surface of life, end up being just sprinkled with crap.

And every once in a while some little thing which long ago was rejected as not being cool works really well and is worthy of our attention.  Yes—sometimes it’s enough. 

And when it isn’t, we shouldn’t fret, because there ain’t nothin’ better.

Truce-Makers (#812)

June 14th, 2010

          The quirky are supposed to be the conceivers of the new.  Sometimes they get paranoid. 

The religious are commissioned to be believers in the possible.  Too often they become judgmental and dogmatic. 

The secular have a mission to be the perceivers of what is available.  Still they are occasionally flawed with a condescending, off-handed nastiness.

          So instead of having new possibilities of what is available, we end up with paranoid commandments drenched in arrogance.

          Yuck.  Can we get somebody else to emerge from this cloud of dusty thinking before we all choke to death on our misinterpretation of our missions? 

          This is where the truce-makers come in.  Somebody has to come along and say, “I love you quirky people.  Please keep bringing the new to us.  And God bless you believers.  You make me think about things that are possible beyond my own two hands.  And you perceivers, what a gift you are!  Because you take what is available and you create earthly magic.”

          Yes, we need receivers of them all, hungering and thirsting for the righteousness of input. 

          I do not know what heaven is going to be, but I do know this—among its rank and file will be the quirky, the religious and the secular; because the Bible makes it clear that eternity is a place for those who do the will of the Father.

          I guess that’s what Jesus meant by “blessed are the peace-makers.”  There are lots of people who want to be peaceful, but don’t have an ability to step in the gap and create the peace that makes things feel full.  We need truce-makers.  We need someone to raise a flag and say, “Quirky, religious, secular friends, get over here.  We need you all.”

          But if the quirky feel avant-garde over the religious, and the religious feel self-righteous about the secular, and the secular think they are the salvation of the world because of intellect, we will fidget our way into a fretting mess of miserable miscalculation.

          So what can I do to unite the army of the kingdom of life and mobilize my friends towards solution instead of dissension?  If you’re going to be a truce-maker:

1.  You’ve got to spend some time with the whole family.  If there’s something new, try it.  If God has blessed, praise it.  And if science has discovered a piece of wisdom, incorporate it.  Do it publicly, freely, openly and often.

2.  Remove incrimination and damnation from the equation.  I know there are things that religion says are inevitable.  I certainly have read articles where secular science has postulated on its own portion of doom.  I just don’t see the harm in taking the sweeter portions of all messages and putting them into practice.  If the world wants to end, it certainly can feel free to do so without me watching it. 

3.  Don’t be certain that you know the heart of God.  Remember, God looks on the heart, not the outward appearance.  Just because someone is not genuflecting, kneeling or reciting your favorite mantra does not mean they are not worshipping in their own unique way.  Who knows?  Maybe God likes quirky worship.  I certainly would believe that He honors scientific discovery as a form of adoration. 

4.  And finally, keep a sense of humor in everything.  The things that quirky people thought were quirky generations ago are now so common they’re almost boring.  The things that religion insisted on being absolutely eternal have amazingly evolved to new understanding.  And some of the inventions of the secular and scientific world even make their proponents chuckle after the test of time.

          When people get too serious-minded, they’ve lost the part of their brain that really prepares them for magnificent majesty. 

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I know this:  all the new things have not yet been found.

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I also know this:  God’s a lot smarter than the last things we wrote down about Him. 

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 And I certainly know that what we consider to be scientific today, in many cases, will be considered Neanderthal tomorrow.

          So keep chuckling.  It’s a great way to be a truce-maker.

          So now we’ve got a “q” – quirky.  We just have to make sure they’re conceivers of the new.  And we’ve got an "r" – religious.  Let us pray they remain believers in the possible. We got "s" – the secular.  Hit the books, folks.  And keep being perceivers of what is available.  But we sure do need some "t’s" – truce-makers:  folks who are receivers of all good things. 

For in the end, every good and perfect gift comes from God.

Perceivers (#811)

June 13th, 2010

          The quirky are meant to be conceivers of the new, and the religious are meant to be believers in the possible.  If they actually delivered their package of newness and possibility, the world would be apple butter and rosy cheeks.  But instead, we often get paranoia from the quirky and commandments from the religious.

          So another group emerges; they are often referred to as the secular.  Actually, they are perceivers of what is available. 

My dear Lord, they are so valuable to us all.  They don’t pray for solutions; they work with the materials set before them.  They don’t merely have faith in a concept; but instead, they ask, seek and knock until they’ve uncovered all the raw material that can be unearthed.  They tell us when the earth needs assistance.  They spend hours researching for cures to disease instead of merely placing a damp cloth on a fevered brow.  They are the inquisitors in a world brimming with undiscovered knowledge.  They are precious to our well-being.

          But unfortunately, too often, instead of staying faithful to their mission, they become critical of those who believe and overly analytical of those who are quirky and different.  They allow their pseudo-intellectualism to supersede their dynamic curiosity.  They feel superior instead of enhanced with a gift to give.  So they find themselves at war with believers instead of in unity with them to achieve God’s will to be done here on earth as it is in heaven.

          So the religious attack the secular for their lack of belief, and the secular ridicule the religious for their ignorance.

          Therefore, what was meant to be a gift of perceiving—in order to unearth the available—instead becomes an over-zealous, false intelligence used to dominate knowledge. 

Perceivers want to be all-knowing.    In their zeal to promote the real, they end up dubbed “know-it-alls.” 

          So the religious and the secular, rather than locking arms in a mission to find the best of God and the better parts of earth, end up at each other’s throats to gain the deed to the property in which we dwell.  It is most unfortunate.  What do I need from the perceivers?

1.  Make it clear what I can do to use what you’ve found to make things improve.  Don’t make me feel stupid.  Don’t ridicule me because I believe in God.  And please don’t think you’re more astute because you don’t.  Use your gift to help me feel as if I’ve been given something.

2.  Intelligence never closes the door on anything, including faith.  In the pursuit of the natural, don’t discard the joy of something super. 

3. And finally, be thankful.  I’m not saying you have to thank God.  I’m not suggesting you even institute some deity for your adoration.  But considering the frailty of the human being and the limitations of our minds, a bit of humility is necessary even in the presence of great discovery.  Be thankful.  It goes a long way toward keeping others excited about your efforts, and your own being fresh for the next encounter with ordeal.

          God, I love perceivers.   My hat goes off to the researchers who are looking to use what is available on this planet to enhance our lives.  It is not necessary for them to gain arrogance to dispel ignorance.  Teach us what we can do to be better inhabitants of earth.

          And maybe, at the same time, you might want to learn the joy of believing in what is possible, while you honor the conceivers of what is new.  Because without that, we have a world of paranoia, commandments, and arrogance.

          Is there a way to get these triplets—born of the same lineage—to get along and work together?   

Believers (#810)

June 12th, 2010

        Quirky people – I love ‘em.  They are the conceivers of the new.  They refuse to accept conventional wisdom—or anything that convenes to a conclusion.  They are great contributors to the human family of potential, except when they become paranoid or insistent that everybody be the same as them.  That is their weakness.

          This leads me to a group of individuals with a more religious bent that we shall dub “believers.”  Just as I absolutely am enthralled with my quirky brethren, the conclave of believers is a treasure to my heart—because believers, when they use the best parts of themselves, challenge us to better things and to discover the possible.  They encourage us with the notion that we are created beings who are not only loved, but appreciated for our variety and intelligence. 

Religion would be wonderful if it weren’t so doggone organized; because organization stimulates membership, and memberships creates the need for policy and policy requires rules.  These regulations, by their very nature, begin to eliminate those who might have found their way into the fold.         So in the pursuit of evangelizing the concept of a religious being, the alienation created causes tempers to flare, instead of tempering the flare-ups of causes. 

Honestly, two of the worst culprits are Christianity and the Muslims.  Some religions are not so prone towards evangelism, but both the Christians and the Muslims feel it is their duty to save heathen from utter darkness and bring them into the sanctity of the sanctuary of faith.  It’s really too bad.  Because when religion creates believers in the possible, and the possible is a desire to make things better, there’s very little in life that can institute and permit hope quite as well.  True faith is the substance of things hoped for, not an institution of demands.

So as the quirky are intended to conceive the new, but often find themselves frightened and pushy about their lifestyle, and the religious are supposed to be believers in the possible in order to make life better, but instead end up stuffing down people’s throats a creed of crud, what do we lose? 

Because the quirky and the religious don’t conceive and believe, we are often absent newness and possibility.  We end up stuck with paranoia and commandments.

No wonder people run for the hills.

So what can religious folks do to remain believers in the possible, to the betterment of humankind? 

1.  You don’t need to promote beautiful.  If it’s working, and it’s causing you joy, and filling your heart with contentment, those who are meant to find it will find it.

2.  Listen to God and stop speaking for Him.  If God really needed you to speak to someone else, why would He speak to you and not to them?  The beauty of faith is that it’s an individual journey for everyone.  It is not a message for a few to be thrust upon the many.

3. And finally, religion is one part of what it takes to make a great world.  I know people will disagree with me about this, but if everybody’s religious, who’s going to be quirky?  And if everybody’s quirky, who’s going to be a believer? 

So even though I am a man of faith and I believe with all my heart, I use that process to enhance the possible and seek out the better.    If you want to come along, I always bring an extra water bottle and granola bar.  If you don’t, then God bless you.  And I mean that sincerely.

Remember, religion has function only when it creates believers in the possible for the better; and religion always tries to create one recurring enemy: the secular.

QRS … but where’s T?  (#809)

June 11th, 2010

Sometimes I try to figure out whether the difficulty in life is in what people do—and then the things that remain that they don’t do—or the things they don’t do, leaving the things they do undone.

Just for the record, that may be one of the most confusing sentences I’ve ever written.  But fortunately for me, I have a column so I can explain myself.

There are three unique versions of human beings on this glorious planet earth—QRS. 

Q – Quirky

R – Religious

S – Secular

          I know in some ways it’s a small world, but I do believe it’s big enough to contain all three styles of living.  I’d just like to take the next few days to explain the existence of these categories and why I think they’re very important.  Their autonomy is threatened by the evangelism that comes from all of their camps.

          I like quirky people.  I don’t consider myself to be a quirky person.  There are certainly moments when I think I have interesting quirks, but that is quickly dispelled by getting around someone who actually IS quirky.  Quirky people are so valuable because they quickly define to us that their take, opinion and approach to everything is not only going to come out of left field, but often isn’t even in the ball park.  They enjoy mingling colors; they revel in the anarchy of a mixed metaphor.  They go to a pizza buffet and just order salad.  Their favorite color is usually something you’ve never heard of.  Occasionally they will have an unusual decoration hanging from their rear-view mirror.  Never slaves to fads, they will bounce between decades of styles at whim, landing on a particular look which they declare “my thing.”

          Quirky people are conceivers.  They make us think out of the box because they live out of the box and really even refuse to visit the box.  They walk the fine line between the religious and the secular folks with ease and determination. 

But the trouble is, they are often self-righteous, feeling that the lack of quirkiness in others is a sign of staleness or inflexibility.  They also will occasionally take their personal preferences to a neurotic status where they become paranoid that “everyone’s against them” because they’re quirky.  For you see, quirky is absolutely necessary until it becomes evangelistic and wants to spread its “gospel of the weird” to the frightened, alarmed or even occasionally repulsed masses.  If they would remain happy being conceivers—in other words, offering interesting choices at stagnant interchanges—then they would be an absolutely essential inclusion in the human family.  But unfortunately, quirky is not always satisfied to walk alone, but rather, looks for followers for its bizarre manifesto.  Instead of enjoying a personal path of freedom, quirky often decides to become the vigilante for extremism.  So what could be an absolutely ingenious bonus gift to the human journey becomes an intrusion into the placid affairs of stoic folks.

Like I said, I like quirky people, and if they would just be satisfied walking their own twisted logic and bringing some color to surrounding drabness, they could enlighten us at times when our shades of gray have finally proven themselves to be as drab as they appear.

Quirky usually doesn’t care that much about religion or even secular affairs—just an ongoing, festering, erratic thought on the present moment’s doings.   If it would stay that way, the contribution would be immeasurable.  But quirky people are flawed with that human foible of wanting everybody to be “just like them.”  So the evangelism of the doctrine of dim-wittedness renders them a little bit bouncing between delusional and dangerous.

So I say this day to all the quirky people in the world: 

Keep it up.  Conceive new possibilities.  But please let me enjoy your own personal choices without thinking that I must join you in wearing plaids and stripes together. 

And of course, that leads us to group two … the religions.

 

Mess Around  (#808)

June 10th, 2010

Yellow summer squash, onions, a bit of broccoli for green color and taste, mushrooms, some garlic, a touch of gravy, crushed-up high-fiber crackers, slices of steak and salt.  These were the ingredients in front of me last night when I was putting together a casserole for my dinner.  I paused for a second to stare at them.  I don’t know, maybe I peered.  But it did get me to thinking.

Even though I was going to make a casserole with a variety of taste, for that dish to come off the way I wanted it to, some ingredient or combination of ingredients would have to gain predominance.  The others would be in a supporting role and deeply appreciated for their involvement and receive a certificate of participation.

What would it be?  Did I want it to taste more like steak?  Or did I want the broccoli to lift out?  How about garlic?  Of course, you have to be careful with garlic—otherwise you end up smelling like an Italian dance instructor after class.  How much salt?  Salt is tricky, isn’t it?  Just enough and it actually makes summer squash taste like something other than yellow mashed-up paper.  Too much, and the concoction must be decried “salty.” 

We keep blaming ingredients for how our meals taste, when really, it’s all about the cook.  Do we know how to mix our stuff to keep it from becoming a mess?

I meet so many talented people.  Golly, I meet people who are much smarter than me.  And so often their lives are in shambles, disarray and frustration.  I mean, all the ingredients for success are there, but after they’ve mixed them all up, it ends up just being a mess—tasteless or over-seasoned.

It’s a very humbling thing to sit in front of a bunch of willing vegetables, seasonings and meat and ask them to cooperate to form a recipe that will not only nourish but also delight. 

Do you meet people who insist that life is just a mess and there’s not much we can do about it?  It seems to be the thrust—or dare I say the bane?—of their existence. 

You know what really aggravates me?  Many of these doomsday do-nothings are Christians.  Supposedly they are people who extol a loving God brimming with salvation who wants to redeem humanity.   I guess the thought, amongst these dark, devotees, is that all the ingredients have to be mixed together to make a big pile of crap that is inedible so that God can throw it out and start all over again in heaven.

Really? 

Does the world really have to go to hell so that you and I can go to heaven?  Do the ingredients set before us have to end up tasting like really bad leftovers so we will finally appreciate the banquet table in the Kingdom of God ? 

Or is there a trick here?  Is God trying to find an enduring folk who dispel the stupidity of ultimate doom and take their lives and the ingredients given them—talents, hopes, dreams—and use them to concoct a stew befitting the angels?

Yes.  Maybe it is just a garden of possibilities. Maybe it looks like a mess, but it’s just waiting for fruitful souls who will doctor it up, mix in better pieces and season it with their own salt to make it not only edible, but if possible, delicious.

Forgive me for being overly philosophical about meal preparation.  But I think there is a mystery to life on this planet, and the mystery is that it’s really not a mess, just desperately in need of better cooks.

I always laugh when the army calls their dining location the “mess hall.”  They might call it a mess hall, but hungry people certainly don’t avoid it—because it’s not a mess at all.  It just requires an accomplished chef.

So meanwhile back at my meal—I mixed my ingredients together carefully last night, seasoned them with tenderness, and then grabbed a taste along the way, to make sure it was suitable for all my fine friends who were going to devour it.

Why would I do any less with the ingredients God has given me in my life?

Making Up People – Part 6 (#807)

The Final Chapter – All in a Day

June 9th, 2010

He got up with an agenda, as we all often do.  It was a busy time.  He was a busy man.  He was an important man—perhaps the true definition of the phrase, “a man with a mission.”  He was surrounded by responsibility and the need for accomplishment. 

Yet someone appeared in his camp who was devastated.  The man’s name was Jairus.  The man had a little daughter—twelve years old—who had some sort of mysterious sickness and lay dying.

It was off the radar (even though, at that time, they had no radar).  There were other things just as important that needed to be done.  Matter of fact, there were friends, aids and disciples standing around, probably a bit perturbed with the interruption of a grieving father.  Maybe his “manly instincts” told him to designate the job to someone else.  Perhaps he thought the father was merely overwrought, and if some time passed the girl would just get well without any intervention at all.  I do not know whether he thought those things or not—I only know what he did.

He stopped his day, tapped the heart of a woman within him, felt the pain of a fellow-traveler, and changed all of his plans to go and help.  Whatever had been fastidiously placed in predominance was now dropped in preference to the present emotional need.  He took off for some home of a man he just met, to help some little girl he had never met before.

The heart of a woman.

As they journeyed, the crowd following along for the thrill and excitement pressed against him.  Another human being emerged from the throng who had a need.  She’d had an issue of blood for twelve years.  The entire time that the little girl he was going to help had been alive, this woman had been battling a disease.  Now, this woman decided not to bother anyone, because that’s the way she was trained to be, living in a society where females were subservient.  So as he passed by, she reached out to touch the hem of his garment, with the anticipation that that connection would be enough to change her life. 

Suddenly he stops.  He turns and says, “Who touched me?”  It is a very childlike phrase—so childlike that his comrades chided him a bit for asking such a ridiculous question, considering that he was completely surrounded by people bumping up against him every few seconds.  He didn’t care.  The child in him wanted to know who touched him.  The child in him was curious about who had made a connection with him without his knowing.  The soul of a child within the man wanted to stop and celebrate with a frightened woman who had suddenly discovered that she was completely healed.  The soul of a child wanted to tell her that her faith had made her whole.

The soul of a child.

Unfortunately, the delay is costly.  In the midst of the celebration with the healed woman, news comes from the house of Jairus, that his daughter has died.  It seems there is no need for any further intervention or treatment.  The father slinks to his knees in a mixture of horror and disappointment—horror over having lost his daughter and disappointment that the man he put his faith in had decided to delay his aid to help another along the way. 

But he tapped the mind of God.  He turned to the weeping father and said, “If you believe, great things can still happen.”  Because in his mind, it seemed ridiculous that God would let a little girl die just because another woman was healed and needed a chance to be exhorted.  He took on the mind of God.  Some might say he presumptuously decided what God was going to do next.  But it’s more that he sensed that the thinking process of God was to include all—even when circumstances appeared to be desperate.

The mind of God.

So they trudged on.  Much less expectation.  More grief than belief.  Arriving at the house, the funeral plans were in full swing.  People were already deciding what meal they were going to bring in, and how they personally planned on mourning.  He interrupted them.  He told them that she was not really dead—just sleeping.  They laughed at him.  And then they scorned him.  And the mourners who had come to comfort the family became enraged at his insensitivity.  How dare he interrupt the process of sadness of a family that had just lost their precious child?

He didn’t care.  He mustered his strength and chased them all out of the room, because unbelief was really the only enemy the little girl had.  He used the strength of a man to dispel a crowd that was determined to act out tradition instead of treading into new realms of faith.  He decided the one thing that he needed to become, and that was the person who acted on the faith of a mother and father who still wanted a living daughter.

The strength of a man.

The little girl was raised from the dead.  And of course, “he,” in our story, is Jesus.  Had he not had the heart of a woman, he might have dismissed the interruption of a faltering father.  Had he not possessed the soul of a child, it is possible he would have failed to feel the touch of a woman desperate for rejuvenation.  Without the mind of God, he would have listened to the reports of death and turned away, instead of pressing on, deciding what God’s will really was going to be.  And without the strength of a man, he might have given in to the wave of family planning for a funeral, instead of chasing them all away to open the door to resurrection.

You can continue to try to be a man. 

You can insist on being a woman. 

You can plead your case as merely a child. 

Somewhere along the line, we need some people to become human beings and possess the heart of a woman, the soul of a child, the mind of God and the strength of a man.

The universe is taking applications.

Making Up People – Part 5 (#806)

Strength of a Man

June 8th, 2010

I spent the weekend in St. Louis, having driven hundreds of miles and having performed three presentations, carrying equipment in and out, meeting many folk and walking up and down all over the place to get where I needed to go.  But on Monday morning, it was time to leave and I had to carry a suit bag and a suitcase down a flight of stairs. 

I didn’t account for my bum right knee, so I was having a little difficulty managing the load and myself.  A young woman spotted me, came up and took the suitcase from my hand and carried it the remaining few steps to the ground floor.  I didn’t resist; I didn’t ruffle.  I didn’t object.  My macho pride was not besmirched. 

She was stronger.  It was okay.

We have tagged the male of the human species to be strong, and girls to be “sugar and spice and everything nice,” and then, in parenthesis we add, (and by the way, nice guys finish last).  Even though I believe in chivalry, I do it for both sexes.  I don’t hold doors for women because they’re weaker.  I don’t rush over to pick up a box because I think “the little lady can’t handle it.” 

Consider this:  Jesus did not have a “men’s ministry” and a “women’s ministry.”  Just stop there for a second and think about it.  That means that Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susannah, and a host of other ladies were blessed with the great honor of keeping up with the same traveling schedule, eating habits and physical demands of the male specimens around them.  Did I mention body odor?

And by the way, it would be fairly ridiculous to think that a woman riding in a Conestoga wagon across the prairie on her way to California with her husband would lament breaking a fingernail while harnessing the horses that morning.  The phenomenon of esteeming “women to be weaker” is a Victorian concept that has only been around for a hundred and fifty years or so.  And do not for a moment think that “dainty” does not mean “weaker” and that “weaker” does not mean “lesser.”

Yes, Jesus had the heart of a woman, the soul of a child, the mind of God and the strength of a man. 

But true strength that ushers in the use of purposeful muscle is generated by knowing ME, acquiring MY and pursuing MINE.

ME – I have found myself.  Even though I am a great believer and participant in the grace of salvation, no saving process ever occurs until I find me.  I have to come to myself and understand who I am—and my weaknesses.  People are always extolling the value of emphasizing our strengths, but honest to God, don’t they leap to the forefront?  It’s finding your weaknesses and being honest about them that puts together a “me package” that gives us permission to move toward salvation. 

I have found myself.  Back to my story in St. Louis , even though I could do all those shows on Sunday and had the physical power to achieve them, because of my bum right knee, I needed a young lady to help me with my suitcase down the stairs.  It’s all right because it’s real and I found it.

          Once I get my “me” together, I can find out MY.  And that’s a decision.  I have decided what’s next.  Don’t let it be decided for you. 

 Can I exercise my knee, so the next time I come to those stairs I can handle them better?  Or is it just wise for MY concern, to always take the elevator?  I have to decide what’s next.  That’s what makes us strong.  Any time the decision is made for us, or without us, we are weakened, whether man, woman or child. 

It demonstrates the power of Jesus’ decision to remain in Gethsemane and face the verdict of a crazed mob instead of running away from his fate or accidentally being assassinated by some bum in the street.  “It is MY cross to bear—because I have decided what’s next.”

          And to complete the strength of a man – which can be possessed by any human – you must find MINE.  I picked one to become.  Let’s get this straight.  Trying two things in life is always one too many.  They conflict; they disagree, and they fight each other. 

          Right now, I am working on weight loss.  I am not pursuing hair transplants, nor am I lifting weights in a gym.  I am not even trying to improve my bum knee.  I have found MINE—and the MINE I have picked to become, right now, is a little thinner.  It makes me feel strong.

          I am not strong because I’m pumped up on testosterone.  I am strong because I know ME.  I have found myself.  I have MY.  I have decided what’s next.  Which gives me MINE.  I picked one to become.

          I will tell you, when you find ME, MY and MINE in your life, the natural strength of physicality will course through your veins, and no matter what your gender or your age, you will gain the strength of a man.

          The stairs stopped me on Monday. 

But ME, MY and MINE gave me the power to remain strong.

Making Up People – Part 4

The Mind is God (#805)

June 7th, 2010

          “We have the mind of Christ”.  That’s what the Bible says.  And Christ came to show us the Father.  So the mind was intended to be the throne-room of God. 

          Wow.  What happened?

          It’s a decision we all make at an early age –to take the room intended to be a sanctuary and turn it into a closet. 

*We store. 

*We collect. 

*We accumulate. 

*We remember. 

*But we rarely renew.

          It’s been years—maybe decades—since we have taken an update on our fleshly computer.  The mind was meant to meditate—mainly on good things.  We have used it to mediate and hesitate, allowing our fears to control our thinking. 

          But that doesn’t change the mission that God intended, for as the heart is a woman and the soul is a child, the mind is God. 

It is there to show, grow and finally, know.

To begin, as the mind meditates, we first must show.  And that consists of this understanding:  “To learn, I must think—not merely pump out information from a storage room, but instead allow a new reasoning and new possibilities to challenge old experience.”  It’s why Jesus was constantly asking the disciples, “What do you think?”  In other words, “show me where you are, because without knowing where you are, how will you ever know where you want to go?”

Because to create a climate in which to grow, I must understand: “To think, I must be uncertain”.  A mind made up is a mind that’s closed for business.  The true temperature of a healthy brain is uncertainty.  It is what creates the hunger and thirst for righteousness.  It is a sign of a healthy appetite in our gray matter. 

People who are positive of what they think have abandoned the soul of a child, and have rejected the heart of a woman.  Because a woman’s heart and a child’s soul does offer some uncertainty.  And without uncertainty, we just don’t grow.

And once we learn to grow, we actually achieve the status to know.  “For to be uncertain, I must be human.”  Maintaining our humanity in our minds instead of trying to create the supremacy of a super-race of intellect is the way we develop the mental capacity for inclusion.  Otherwise, we just don’t include other people in anything.  We feel a sense of self-sufficiency, which is really self-denial, or even self-abuse.

The mind is God, because it meditates. 

          First it shows—“To learn I must think.”

          Then it grows – “To think I must be uncertain.”

          And finally it knows—“To be uncertain, I must be human.”

Yes, we have the mind of Christ.  Why?  Because Jesus became human.  God realized He could never be one with His creation without thinking, and therefore knowing that He, too, was human.

It doesn’t mean we always come up with the right answers.  It means the correct questions are always formed within our brain.  What must I do?  What must I learn?  And what must I share of my uncertainty to gain greater understanding?

The enemy of the mind is the blending of culture, religion and politics.  Those three band together to lock human intelligence into a prison where escape is impossible. 

What do I know about the mind?  It is the piece of God that we have because it refuses to stop changing.

 

P.S.  Happy thirty-fourth birthday to my son, Jerrod.  I have some good news for you.  About seven years ago I started doing my birthdays backwards so we could meet at forty.  Love, Dad

Making Up People – Part 3

The Soul Is a Child (#804)

June 6th, 2010

          “… for of such is the kingdom of heaven …” A partial quotation from Jesus.  Who did he say makes up the kingdom of heaven? 

Children.  The soul is a child.  The soul never really becomes adult, mature and overly-serious.  The soul is playful and flexible—yearning for expansion and experience.  It is consecrated to joy.

          We have tried to turn our soul into a critical, decrepit entity, responding from experience rather than discovery.  But the soul is a child.  And as a child, it performs three functions:

1.  First, like all children, it is in a profile to receive.  A child doesn’t worry much about giving.  A child’s life revolves around receiving.  And the true child-like nature of our soul is to receive with this sensation:  Life is what I’ve got.  It’s when we try to age ourselves into instruments of selfishness and greed that we lose that child-like quality.  Everyone knows that on Christmas morning, a child is just as likely to play with the box the toy came in as to play with the toy.  That’s because they have hearts to receive.  “Life is what I’ve got.”  We lose our spiritual edge when first we contend that what is happening couldn’t be of any value, so we begin to complain about our lot.  But the soul is a child—it receives.  Life is what I’ve got.

2.  And then because it receives, it is able to believe.  What I’ve got is what I know—because a child-like belief is merely calmly and sweetly stating what we know.  There may not be a lot of things we’re sure of, so that’s why there shouldn’t be tons of things we believe.  But when we discover the life we’ve got, then we have a sense of what we know.  Which allows us to …

3.  Conceive.  “What I know is what I create.”  The reason many people suffer from a lack of creativity is because they don’t have a sureness of what they know—and they certainly lack confidence in what they know because they fail to receive the life given to them as what they’ve got to work with. 

          This is the child-like quality that Jesus demonstrated.  Whether he was accepting five loaves and two fishes as the starting recipe for a meal for five thousand, or drinking the cup that was provided for him in Gethsemane by the sinister ignorance of mankind, he received it.  He believed it.  And from that belief, he conceived what he would create.

          And because of that process, salvation was born out of a vicious murder plot.  It takes a child to turn a rock, a stick and a clump of dirt into a game.  And it takes a soul that is anointed with the spirit of a child to take a life and turn it into a belief in what we know and emerge from that with a product of fruitfulness.

          When men try to be soulish and spiritual by “much learning,” and women try to attain God through emotional release instead of opening themselves up to their inner child, they end up with religion—which is merely a mental exercise or a futile expression of feelings.

          It takes the soul of a child to reach the heart of God.  That’s what Jesus said.  That’s why he played with children.  That’s why he stood up for them when the disciples wanted to send them away.  That’s why he said that “except we all become like them, we will never be able to see God.”

          Human beings were meant to have the heart of a woman, and to consecrate their souls to become children.

                    To receive—life is what I’ve got

                    To believe—what I’ve got is what I know.

                    And then conceive—what I know is what I create.

          Won’t it be a shock to all of us to arrive in heaven and find out how young and playful our heavenly Father is?  It might be a good idea to shake the old bones out of our spirits now, and get ready for a very child-like eternal Creator.

          The soul of a child—that’s what each one of us is supposed to have; because after all, if the soul is supposed to live forever, isn’t it smart for it to stay young?  

The Heart Is a Woman (#803)

June 5th, 2010

          “Women are emotional.” 

 This is a statement usually spoken as a left-handed compliment to portray the female of our species as sensitive, but simultaneously somewhat weakened by possessing that tendency.  The statement is erred.

          Humans are emotional, and when we are not, we are without tenderness, empathy and rapport.  The absence of those three dynamos is what leads to war, murder and separation. 

          The human heart was meant to carry the tenderness of the female of our species, but to be experienced by both sexes.  It is not limited to the feminine inclination, but needful for human beings to escape a calloused, uncaring approach and to realize that we all are in a quandary and mish-mash of our own feelings.

          When men ignore their emotions, they force their brains and bodies to perform functions without passion and desire.  When women live within their emotions instead of through of their emotions, they become imprisoned by the sensations that were meant to make them sensitive instead of fragile. 

          The word that comes to mind regarding emotions is “ruminate.”  Without emotions, we stop “considering the lily.”  Without emotions, we start taking too much thought for tomorrow, and not enough enjoyment for today.  Without emotions, Jesus would never have shown compassion on the masses.  Without emotions, we would not have the shortest verse in the Bible:  Jesus wept.

          What are emotions?  Why do they bring into the human experience that part of creation that God called “woman,” which now rounds our being out to a blessed wholeness?

          Emotions do three distinct things:  (1) they make us aware; (2) they cause us to care; (3) and they challenge us to share.

Aware – Here comes the question into our feelings.  What is really going on?  If we’re not aware of what’s going on around us, we begin to run our lives by a code of repetitive ethics instead of an evolving mercy to our changing world.  Once we find out what’s really going on, we move on to:

Care – This also can often be stated as a question.  How does this involve me?  If we don’t wonder how we are involved in the goings-on of the world, we certainly will lack the empathy that permits sympathy to avoid the danger and the horror of apathy.  And once we find out how to care—how it really involves us—we can insert:

Our Share – Yes.  What can I offer?  What can I say?  How can I give something to the situation?  When men are taught to plug up the natural heart of a woman that was placed in their breast by their Creator, they become cold—little boys who are really afraid, who often disguise their terror in a ring of smoke around their heads and a haze of alcohol.

          Yes, something has to anesthetize the natural heart of a woman that beats inside EVERY human being—because it is willed by our Creator that we ruminate.

          The most uncomfortable thing to most macho men and women is the notion of an overly-sensitive savior.  For after all, Jesus stopped to consider the plight of sinners.  That required him to ruminate on what it must feel like to be one.  That is emotional.  And that is a heart that we normally attribute to a woman, but really is an explosion of feeling occurring inside every human being.

          I will tell you this:  Jesus definitely possessed the heart of a woman.  It is why, on the morning of his resurrection, that women came to the gravesite to prepare his body.  They knew he would want them to.  He wasn’t a man who was unconcerned about his feelings and his appearance.  They sensed his sensitivity, so in a sensitive way, they came to minister to his sensibilities and because of that, they were the first to sense his resurrection.

          Any man who denies the emotions within him and does not ruminate upon them is not developing a male approach to feeling, but merely trying to stifle the heart of a woman that God imparted as a gift in Eden . 

          We need to ruminate.  Without it, we lose all sense of others.

                Aware—what is really going on?

                   Care—how does it involve me?

                   Share—what can I offer?

          A quick study of Jesus of Nazareth is an understanding of a human being who is a Carpenter by trade, but comfortable having a conversation with a woman by a well in Samaria .  Why?  Because he was human—and as a human being, he possessed the heart of a woman.  

Making Up People (#802)

June 4th, 2010

God is no respecter of persons—a powerful thought.  It eliminates the need for bigotry and prejudice.  If God doesn’t think any differently about people, why should we?  It germinates the climate for equality.  If God thinks everybody has similar potential, what’s stalling our deliberation?

But if God doesn’t see male and female and child and adult, that begins to shake at the foundations of our cultural cauldron.  We live in a society that is desperate to keep men different from women, women different from men, and certainly, children alienated from adults. 

Here’s a question—is it working?

Are we growing in our understanding of one another by building such distinctly constructed fences, with mailboxes out in front of our houses to identify our differences?  I don’t think so.  I come back to this heart, soul, mind and strength concept from the Bible: 

·        The heart—the emotions. 

·        The soul—the spiritual link with our Creator. 

·        The mind—the intelligence that helps us understand the previous two link-ups.

·        And the strength—the jungle power that enables us to enact what we envision.

But is there a “man heart,” a “woman heart” and a “child heart?”  Could there really be a “man soul,” a “woman soul” and a “child soul?”  Do men really have a different “mind” than women?  Are children really without understanding?  Are women in a position to constantly be weaker to men in their strength? 

How can God be no respecter of persons and tolerate such vast chasms between the sexes, and certainly between adults and children?

I believe the Bible is trying to teach all of us to become human.    But it’s difficult to be human when you think you’re a man who doesn’t understand women, and only tolerates the children of your own making.  It’s difficult to be a human when you’re a woman who feels either subjugated or submissive to men, and bound to a responsibility of children.  And it is certainly difficult to be a child when you feel none of your input is of any value until you reach some sort of magical age.

So how’s it supposed to work? 

For instance, was Jesus all man?  If so, why were so many women drawn to him?  Was Jesus effeminate?  Difficult to believe, when he was surrounded by so many successful male specimens.  Was Jesus adult and mature?  Impossible to comprehend, when his profile was to not only welcome, but actually encourage the presence of children.

What kind of person creates such a comfortable margin of relaxation among men, women and children, while also finding favor with God?

It has to be someone who possessed all four parts within his body-boundaries.  What I’m going to present to you over the next few days is the emotional, spiritual, mental and physical make-up of the man they knew as Jesus of Nazareth—that we now refer to as the Christ.

You can draw your own conclusions, but this study has caused me to realize that the primal weakness in our society is that bigotry gains foothold in the human family when we are already prejudiced against the inclinations of our own parts. 

So where do we begin?   We begin where it all begins—with the heart. 

And what kind of heart did Jesus of Nazareth have?  A great thing to talk about on a Saturday, don’t you think?  

The Gut Trap (#801)

June 3rd, 2010

“What’s your gut telling you?”

“Trust your gut!” 

“Well, my guy reaction is…”

Honestly, we’re obsessed with the feelings and emotions that emerge from our “gut.”  I do love you all with all my heart, but I don’t trust your gut.  I don’t trust mine.  You know why?  It’s the places it’s been.  It’s the ideas it’s consumed.  It’s the unhealed wounds and prejudices that have been allowed to exist within it without challenge.  It is perceptions without reason, emotions without confirmation, ideals without ideas and decisions often without any common-sense involved at all.

I remember in the 1970’s in church circles, one of the favorite phrases was, “I’m getting a check in my spirit.”  After this was uttered, there was really no room for discussion, conversation or any further progression on the matter.  Somebody’s spiritual gut told them there was “danger” in some project or person. 

Is there validity to it?  Are instincts granted to us to avoid dark roads at just the right moment?  Absolutely.  But when you start running your life on the occasional miracle, you miss the benefit of the ongoing presence of blessing.

For instance, when we read the book of Acts in the Bible and we consider the miracles that happened after Jesus left the earth, we are quite impressed.  All true—but you must realize that the Book of Acts covers a time frame of nearly forty years.  That is what Luke came up with to write about in the realm of activity within a forty year period.  It’s a rather impressive list of miracles, but certainly not daily or weekly.

 When we start believing that our gut reaction is linked to heavenly conclusions, we introduce the prejudice, preference and predilections of our upbringing and culture into the glorious manifesto of Jesus. 

It’s a bad move.  So let me offer an alternative to the gut and its reaction.  I’m suggesting that we follow our “butt reaction.”  It’s easy to remember, it rhymes, and our butt reaction is not based on some bigotry instilled within us, or some neurotic fear. 

Our butt reaction is:  If we were there, seated, and saw it happen, and it was part of our encyclopedia of experiences, then we pretty well know it’s valid.

If our butt wasn’t there, we should never trust our gut.  The Bible says, “That which we’ve seen and heard we declare unto you.”  So if you have not personally seen it and heard it; if your butt was not right in the middle of it, you might just want to take those inklings of disfavor and run them through your spirit one more time and check them for purity.  I think an awful lot of good ideas and people are being ignored over “gut reaction,” and in the process, we are losing golden moments of time.

Now I know “butt reaction” probably won’t ever catch on, mainly because it’s not very “cheek.”  But I do think the next time somebody talks about their gut reaction, you can sprout a little smile and remember this jonathots. 

Because I do believe God speaks to us, but not so much through what we think we can stomach; more often … by the seat of our pants.

What’s Yours? (#800)

June 2nd, 2010

A gathering of friends and family—we try to do it once a week when I’m actually in town, which recently has been infrequently.  So I guess that would make it special.  First of all, we eat, which may be the closest thing to spirituality we human beings are able to fathom.  Then we gather around and talk about important things.  And what would those be?

Us.  We are the “important things” in our lives that must be dealt with, otherwise we have no time whatsoever to handle and feel for other folks around us. 

So I posed the question last night, “What is your philosophy of life?”  Then I actually sent around the room and had everybody share their capsulized version of what makes their clock tick.  The first instinct of those sitting in the room?  To go way too deep in thinking.  For after all, our philosophy of life is not what we have time to conjure from our library of social, intellectual and heavenly memories.  It isn’t a final exam we prepare for by memorizing the correct material.  Our philosophy of life is what leaps out of our gizzard when we’re punched in the stomach by an immediate situation, often neither to our liking or our preference.

We all have a philosophy of life.  It’s just nice every once in a while to come along and update it, fine tune it or even bring it into this present decade.  If we don’t, we will find ourselves saying and doing things that greatly resemble the actions of those individuals much older than ourselves, whom we used to mock and rebel against.

As I listened to people try to articulate what generates the hope within them, I came up with three suggestions on what might be advantageous to forming a really good emotional bottom line to the daily crisis.

1.  Keep it really simple.  A philosophy of life should never come in many parts.  It is that one swift blow of reaction that you normally give to every situation that carries both your personality and desire for completion.

2.  It must be universal.  A philosophy of life that does not start with yourself is a lie—and self-righteous.  A philosophy of life that does not include others is overly optimistic and will soon be inundated with complaints from those whose needs are not met.  It’s probably the greatest power of the golden rule.  In the one simple statement of “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” you have the two-pronged approach necessary for Planet Earth dwelling.  “This is what I want, so I assume you want something similar, too.”

3.  And finally, the third thing about a good philosophy of life is to not demand or expect converts.  Human beings are naturally independent even when they’re in love with you or related to you.  So although they may admire your approach to handling affairs, they will still come up with their own rendition of the process.  Be patient.  Imitation is not duplication.  Let people take a little piece of you without your pouting over them ignoring your most obvious parts.

          Simple, universal, personal—the three attributes of a great philosophy of life.  I can sense your question.  Doesn’t it have to work, too?

          Nothing works all the time.  If we were to judge our philosophy of life on whether it worked all the time, we would soon be chasing the wind with a butterfly net, with others trailing us carrying a straight jacket.  Yet, the absence of the philosophy of life in our generation renders us completely at the mercy of our fickle nature and cultural upheaval. 

          Get one.

          Everyone should have one.

          And on this eight hundredth essay of jonathots, may I add a footnote?  It seems there were some people who were a little upset because they thought my essays over the previous five days about my demise were true. 

I apologize.  I am a writer.  Which means I am a funded, gentle liar.  But only for the entertainment of my audience.  And hopefully, also, its enrichment.

Doctoring the Books (#799)

June 1st, 2010

“Good afternoon.”

That’s how I always answer the phone.  I mean, if it’s in the afternoon.  Likewise for the morning and evening.  Depends on the time of day.  For some reason, it always throws people.  I guess they think it’s an answering machine.  I assume they’re more accustomed to “Hey.”  “Yo.”  Or even the vanilla, “Hello?”

So anyway, there was a pause after I said my “Good afternoon.”  So I had to follow up with, “Hello?  Is anybody there?” 

There was … I mean, somebody there.  It was the nurse from my doctor’s office, asking me to come in.  So here’s her story:

Apparently they had taken portions of my blood—vampires they all are—and studied it and had begun to bombard specimens of my unknown virus with medications.  I don’t remember the exact concoction they finally came up with, but it was a mixture of some old-fashioned sulfa with a bit of penicillin derivative and some sort of mycin.  Anyway, they had discovered that this particular mixed beverage had killed my virus, and now the nurse wanted me to come in so they could put me on an IV to complete the job throughout my whole body.

I told her I thought I was allergic to penicillin and she joked back at me, “Well, it probably won’t kill you.  But the virus certainly has a mind to.”

 So I asked the obvious question.  “So I’m not going to die?”

She replied, “Not right now.”

I hung up the phone and changed my underwear and socks (after all, I was going to the doctor’s office) and headed for my car for my magical drip, to get rid of my mysterious creeping crud. 

Driving to the doctor’s office, I found myself a little depressed—and I thought that was weird.  Because I had gotten one of those calls from the governor at the last moment, to give me a reprieve from my death sentence.  I couldn’t figure out what was bothering me—and I’m still not sure. 

But I think it was because I really had come up with a good plan on how to die.  And now I was not only unable to use it,  but would have to tuck it in my back pocket for some day in the future when I also might not get to use it because I just might get snuck up on.

It was really a great discovery I had made over my nearly four days of demise.  And then I stopped.  No, I really did.  I pulled the car over, stopped and thought to myself. 

Why can’t I do it all the time?  Why can’t I get up in the morning with ‘real eyes,’ and notice what’s going on and what the day has, without so many opinions and attitudes about the potential unfoldings?  Why can’t I sit down and make a “things to do today list” and then check off the things I really want to do because they sound more fun or easier.  I mean, I can continue to be pious and self-righteous and pretend to do a bunch of stuff I hate, but I’m really not—at least not without hating everybody around me.

 And then, when I get done with my revised “things to do today” list, why don’t I just grab the closest half-dozen people who come my way and share my life with them?  And let them share theirs with me?  Would it really kill me to listen to another traveler’s story? (Well sometimes it does feel like it might, but that’s because I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be nearly snuffed…)

And finally, after I’ve done all that and been all that and seen all that, why don’t I just relax?  Because of the options of doom that can fall upon a human being—debt, fatigue, failure, bad pizza—the worst of that collection is to die.  And since we probably aren’t going to die, the other members of the lineage of dark possibilities probably won’t kill us. So relax.

How would I describe relax?  Relax is so comfortable in your own skin that you kind of giggle inside about how you really just don’t give a crap. 

That’s cool.

I started my engine back up and resumed my trip to the doctor’s office.  I was going to live. 

But I decided I’d try to do it better: realize, doing what I want to do, sharing with those who come my way a piece of my heart and accepting a portion of theirs, and then, doggone it, just relaxing.

I know there are people who will read this and say, “Well, sounds good.  But welcome to the real world.”

Why is the real world always a place that you’ve made up that’s devoid of fun?  What if that isn’t the real world?  What if that’s hell, and we’re just awaiting the arrival of the lake of fire?

So I took my body and got it well—to live another day.  That’s right.  Just another day.  Because when I start thinking about the days too far in advance, they turn into weeks and sometimes months, and then stupidly, I actually think I have a year.

And that’s just enough time to screw things up.