Equality (#787)

May 20^th, 2010

Equality.

Sounds good.  I’m in favor of it.  Aren’t you?  I mean, it sounds good in theory.  Matter of fact, it would go along with Mom and apple pie as concepts universally applauded for their beauty and glory.  If you asked anybody if they agreed or believed in equality, you would get a resounding “amen.”  Like most theories, it’s easy to explain when you’re dealing with single cells, and not quite so easily diagrammed when you leap from monkeys to humans.

What I mean is, equality can’t really be equal.  For instance, me as a man turning to a woman and saying, “you are my equal” does not make it so.  There are tens of thousands of years of human tradition and evolution that stand in the way of such a proposal being enacted without other steps also being initiated.

For instance, I could also turn to my black brother and tell him that he is my equal, but culture, training, regional history and prejudice do not make it so.  There has to be an additional step to bring it to pass.

The reason equality is rarely achieved is that some inequality has to be agreed upon, at least for a season, to bring the task to pass.  If you have a four-hundred-year history, as our country does, of enslaving a race of people, you don’t merely give them a seat at the lunch counter and allow them to stand in line with you at the voting booth to complete the miracle of equality. 

Because you have a three-fold problem:  a generation from the past still living that was taught to be bigoted; a generation living in the present which has been instructed to abhor bigotry, but still is nervous around this newly-accepted race; and finally, the generation we are training for the future, which somehow must be infused with a complete rejection of any difference.

It’s why women’s rights inch forward, only to be thrust back by traditionalism and ignorance.  It’s why race relations in this country have temporary victories, but ultimately get bogged down in a grinding war. 

Because bluntly, equality demands that we go through a season of inequality to bring things to a position where even standing creates eyeball-to-eyeball contact.  Otherwise, we have the ridiculous notion put forth by the Jim Crow era—separate but equal.  As long as we’re separate, the reason for that separation will be obvious—it’s because we don’t believe we’re equal.

Every book written on the subject of men and women being different from each other is a further stabbing into the body of effort to create equality between the sexes.  Every television show that portrays the black community in a shuck-and-jive environment brings a smirk onto the face of the secret-white-bigot, who laughs at the farce while maintaining his own superiority.

Jesus talked about it.  He said, “When you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.”  To create equality means we have to understand there are people that we do treat as lesser, and the only way to ever bring about face-to-face contact is to bring them up to the status of Jesus.

Equality sounds really good in a speech.  Jefferson talked about it in his declaration—as he made plans to purchase more slaves.  Men talk about equality in the workplace—as they joke about the bitchiness of women. 

The reason it is impossible for our nation to achieve equality is that we are not willing to suffer some inequality to balance the sheet.  Here’s the rule of thumb:

Equality will only be achieved when I let you be who you are unless it stops me from being who I am.

And I don’t mean inhibits, or challenges my faith, or makes me uncomfortable.  There are many things that do that.  But I have no right to rob you of your human space unless you’re stopping me from expanding within mine.

What will it take to achieve equality?  It will demand that we address all three factors.  The older generation will have to be exposed for its indiscretions; the present generation will have to be candid about its fear of change; and the new generation will have to grow up in a world where any reference to difference is labeled “uncool” and “back-woods.”

Equality—not quite as simple as it would seem.  It always demands that somebody step down to help somebody else climb up.

What to Share (#786)

May 19^th, 2010

It is a question that crosses my mind every morning.  Having the blessing of this column to communicate my feelings and ideas does come with the responsibility to try to place things on the Internet that will be edifying to my readers.   My jonathots column is not a journal of my personal preferences and daily choices.  It contains singular observations from a solitary traveler with the hope that similarities can be found with others. I offer this preface because today I share something that is not about butterflies, marigolds and sunshine. 

I received an email yesterday from someone accusing me of being arrogant.  There were actually many things included in the email, but after you trace the origin of all the ideas to their synonym homes, basically it comes down to a contention of my arrogance.

Honestly, folks, I think human beings can discuss, argue, fuss and even growl at each other—as long as they don’t close the discussion at one end and forbid the other party to participate.  Yet I don’t think there’s any comment that is more unfair than to call somebody arrogant.  Why?  Because there’s no way to defend yourself.   What are you going to say? 

“I’m not arrogant!” he said arrogantly.

I think this is why most people use that assertion when attacking other people; because the more you try to explain your situation, motivation and heart, the more you come across defensive and self-promoting.   

So I decided to share this incident with you—not because I’m particularly upset about it.  A long time ago I realized that if you’re going to throw rocks against the stone walls of traditionalism, occasionally a boulder will be thrown over the top of the wall at you.  I’m not thin-skinned.  But I do believe there are people who are just starting out to pursue their journey and craft, who could be deeply wounded by these accusers of the brethren if they don’t know how to interpret the information.

So here’s the question:  How do I know when to listen to comments as constructive elements for my growth, and when they are coming from a place of personal destruction?  Here are four for you:

1.  Does the individual offering the opinion know me on a personal level or does he just need to make a quick diagnosis?  Yes—I tend to listen to people who recognize my good and bad because they’ve hung around long enough to know both my struggles and my victories.  You don’t get a piece of my hide just because I’m passing through, or near, your property line.

2.  Are these critics coming at me from a place of their own personal hurt, or merely from observation?  I think I know what you’re going to ask me.  How can you tell?  For me, it’s simple.  Every accusation should be followed by a question.  If I am not given an opportunity to explain my position, and I’m robbed of the humanity of countering the attack with my own perspective, then I am being judged, not included.  One of the greatest scriptures in the Bible is, “Who are you that judge another man’s servant?”  The truth of the matter is, if you’re living your life for God and I have a problem with you, I have the perfect right to question you—but not to convict you.

3.  In determining the sincerity of a comment, I always assess whether the person needs to bring other people’s opinions into the mix.  People who are insincere in their critique always feel the need to gang up on you.  They can’t just simply say “I feel” or “I think.”  It has to be, “In talking to other people…” or “A lot of folks…” or “I took a poll, and this is what they said about you…”  When people have a heart to help you, they don’t feel compelled to come after you with torches and a mob.

4.  And finally, do they keep their comments as personal opinion—or do they draw a conclusion?  This can be determined by whether they bring in outside material in an attempt to prove you wrong.  The classic of that, of course, is, “The Bible says…”  I never like to use the Bible in an argument because the Bible has a lot of things it doesn’t like.  And some of those things I flagrantly do every day. 

          Check over that list.  So if you have someone who really does know your heart and they’re sharing an observation which ends in a question, which allows you to present your case, and they choose to make it one-on-one without bringing in other people’s opinions, and they admit to you that it is personal taste without drawing a conclusion about the content of your character, then I think you should always listen.

          Honestly, if any of those elements are absent, it is very suspicious.  And there is an axe being ground. And whether you noticed it or not, somebody is trying to lure you over … to situate your neck on the chopping block.

Something from Nothing (#785)

May 18^th, 2010

Nothing happens, until when nothing happens, we actually declare it “nothing,” and take anything to do something.

Two men went to the Temple .  One man was crippled, in need and begging.  The other man was walking, in need, and giving.  You see what they had in common?  They were both broke.

We need to understand that nothing good happens in life until we’re broke.  In a recent survey they inquired of people what they might do if they won the lottery.  Below are the top five answers in order:

1. Pay off my bills

2.  Buy a house/pay off mortgage

3.  Pay for my kids’ college educations

4. Quit my job/retire

5.  Travel

          Do you find this interesting?  You see, when people are given money, what they decide to do is … nothing.  I mean, they pay off their bills, find a house to live in, send their kids to college, quit their jobs or travel and watch other people working. 

Did it ever occur to you that perhaps the greatest gift that God can give to us is the absence of what we really need in order for us to develop the passion to go after what we want?

          Back to those two men at the Temple .  They encounter each other.  The one man wants money from the other one.  The other man has no money to give.  You do understand that if this other man (whose name, by the way, was Peter) had possessed any money in his pocket, he probably would have given a donation and gone along his merry way, feeling very proud of what he had done, and left the crippled man grateful for the gift.

          But because this fellow, Peter, didn’t have any money, miraculous things happened. 

 Nothing miraculous has ever happened in my life until I was broke.  You see, here’s the key—to be broke without being broken; to be poor without acting poorly, and to be in need without becoming needy.

          When Peter was asked for a donation from the crippled beggar, he took a quick inventory of his finances, found a zero balance, and was forced to take another assessment of his potentials.  “Oh, yes.  I have the power of my faith, and permission from a dear friend to drop his name when miracles are required.”

          Peter grabbed the crippled man by the hand, lifted him to his feet and said, “Listen, dude, I don’t have money.  But I have Jesus.  So please, stand up and walk.”

          You know what?  He did.  Walking, leaping and praising God.          But none of it happens if there is any money in the game.

          As we go through a time of financial pressure in this country, it is both a warning and a blessing—a warning in the sense that it tells us we have squandered opportunity and lived in excess; and a blessing because it gives us the chance to take our abilities and talents out of mothballs and use our ingenuity, which we have retired prematurely.

          Because nothing happens until nothing happens and we call it “nothing.”  And cripples don’t walk unless there’s no charity to give.  Smallpox is not healed until people are dying of it and we want it to stop.  One of the weaknesses in our medical system today is that too many diseases can be treated—and therefore not cured. 

          Sometimes destitution is the only way to generate restitution.  Am I ready for it?  Am I ready to go to my last dollar to discover how to make a hundred more? Of course not.  That’s the problem. 

 But if I would start believing that it’s all right to go to the Temple without money, I might actually notice the crippled people around me and give what I am—instead of complaining about what I wish I had.

Purposer (#784)

May 17^th, 2010

I began this series by talking about spilled gravy on a white sheet on my bed in my motel room.  It’s a simple thing.  It is the simple things that jam up the gears of our own human machine—because problems are placed in the cosmos to create the natural evolution that thrusts humanity forward instead of stagnating us, making us sitting ducks to get “quacked up.”

So what is the fourth entity?  We have dealt with problem-fearing—the Pair-annoyings, and the problem-ignorers—the Polly Ain’tas, who think problems will not happen to them; and the Pissy-Mists, who insist they’re surrounded by trouble.

My fourth and final group is called the PURPOSERS.  I guess if I gave these folks a by-line, it might be, “I am ready for trouble.” 

They have a now-and-later philosophy, or, better phrased, a later-and-now one.

Because the thing to remember when you spill gravy on a sheet, is not that there is gravy on your sheet, but rather, what WAS your original intent for the gravy?  If you get now-and-later out of order, you will almost naturally find yourself becoming Pair-annoying, Polly Ain’ta, or Pissy-Mist.  All of these three groups look at NOW instead of LATER.  It is the great human mistake.

If we can, in the moment of insurgency, recall what we originally set out to do, and then go backwards from that to uncover what to do now, that will enable us to still accomplish what we want later, and we will have developed a “PURPOSER” plan of action. 

Very simply, when I looked down at the spilled gravy on my sheet, I remembered that in a very short length of time I wanted to eat a casserole laced with this same gravy.  I did not want to abandon that glorious plan.  I kept my eyes on the prize of what I wanted to achieve, and then backed up from that vision to solve my immediate problem in the now.  Since the gravy was merely sitting on a clean, white sheet, I took a spoon and patiently and carefully spooned the gravy from the sheet back into the jar where it belonged.  It took about five minutes.  But I was able to retain nearly all of the original mixture.  I then poured it into a bowl to make sure I hadn’t acquired any foreign objects.  After my careful peering, I dumped it into my casserole, put my casserole into the microwave, and while it was coking, took a wet wash cloth and cleaned off my sheet.

          In no time at all, I had a clean sheet, and in about twenty minutes, I was enjoying the meal of my original planning.

          PURPOSERS:  I am ready for trouble because I know it is inevitable.  It is not continual and it is not to be avoided at all costs because “problem solving” is the only way to build legitimate confidence.

          Yes, PURPOSERS are problem solvers.  They don’t need to have their self-esteem built up; the solution provides that for them.  They don’t need to be tutored in self-awareness because they are ready for trouble.  And they don’t need to go without because they always keep an eye on what they want later, in order to decide what they’re gong to do now.

          If you spend your entire life reacting to the moment’s whim, you will soon abandon the dreams that knit together the joy of your soul. Every day has to be an ongoing honoring of our mission, as we deal with today’s sufficiency of difficulty.  If we do this, we become problem-solvers—PURPOSERS who are ready for trouble without expecting it, fearing it or denying it exists.

          The power of this particular choice is that it grants you autonomy from fear.  It frees you from the foolishness of mind over matter and it allows you to escape the prison of negativity. 

          PURPOSERS—those who problem-solve because they are ready for trouble and recall what they want later, retracing their steps to now and moving forward.

          It reminds me of Joshua’s words:  “Choose this day whom you will serve.”

 Are you going to be problem-fearing Pair-Annoying?  “I don’t want trouble”—dwelling in fear and arrogance?

          Are you going to be problem-ignoring Polly Ain’ta, insisting, “I don’t have trouble”—launching with a positive attitude, only to end in pitiful defeat?

          Are you going to be one of those Pissy-Mists, problem-expecting:  “I am surrounded by trouble”—always angry at life but too lazy to do anything about it?

          Or are you going to be a problem-solver—a PURPOSER:  “I am ready for trouble because I always keep my eyes on what I want later, as I deal with the situation in the now.”

          This is the real P-Ditty.  What will be your new song?

 Because once you figure it out, well then—it’s all gravy.

 Pissy-Mist (#783)

May 16^th, 2010

Here come problems!

Group one over there, the problem-fearing gang, fearfully and arrogantly screech, “I don’t want trouble!”

The second group, the problem-ignoring brood, smugly reply with a positive attitude, “I don’t have trouble,” only to end up in pitiful tears when aggravation insists on a home inspection.

Which leads me to the third group—a conglomeration of people who are problem-expecting.  I have dubbed them the Pissy-Mists.  That’s right—folks who just have a pissy attitude.  And if you spend more than five minutes with them, they will tell you in no uncertain terms, “I am surrounded by trouble.”  They couldn’t think of a good thing to say if their life depended on it (which, by the way, it does).

These folks have two things at work.  They are universally angry—pissed off because of the seeming complexity of the make-up of life’s pursuit, and lazy because of the seeming complexity of the make-up of life’s pursuit.

You see, it’s not so much they believe that trouble is impossible to handle.  They’re just pissy about the fact that it has to be handled in the first place.  They cut across the demographics of our society.  There are conservative Pissy-Mists, who will tell you that life is going to hell in a hand-basket, and there are liberal Pissy-Mists, who will extol the virtue of the individual human life, but will go on to explain to you that corporately we are a lost cause.

I don’t know whether there is anything worse than the combination of anger and laziness.  Because when folks are angry, what you really need to do is stimulate them to new projects which will replace rage with renewal.  But if people are lazy, too, the motivation to pursue a new endeavor only further enrages them.  So when they believe they are surrounded by trouble, we may at first find them entertaining if they are also glib and comical.  But then we realize their condition is without remedy because of the anger that makes them believe that life sucks and the laziness that allows them to let life keep sucking.

They are Pissy-Mists.  And I add the word “mist” in there because they are a wet blanket—a dampness hanging in the air that only offers humidity with no rain. 

Pissy-Mists:  “I am surrounded by trouble, but you better know, brother, I am too angry and lazy to do anything about it.”

Do you see the dynamic?  Pissy-Mists are, of course, immediately at odds with Polly Ain’tas.  And Polly Ain’tas feel superior to both Para-annoyings and Pissy-Mists because “at least we bring something to the table.”  And Pissy-Mists can’t stand Pair-annoyings because, “Why worry about trouble that’s already here?”  And Pair-annoyings are frustrated to hang around with Pissy-Mists, because they don’t want to hear that trouble has arrived.

People often wonder why nothing gets done in our society.  I, on the other hand, am astounded when my water faucet actually produces water, considering the variety of characters that work together at the water works.

Pissy-Mists.  “I am surrounded by trouble, and it makes me angry, but I’m much too lazy to do anything about it.”  

Well, that’s three down. One more to go. 

I think that’s why they made tomorrow.

 Polly Ain’tas (#782)

May 15^th, 2010

Pair-annoying—those problem-fearing individuals believing they can say, “I don’t want trouble,” and that life should somehow respond by prohibiting all hassle from coming their way. 

I learned a long time ago that problems have no sensibility.  They don’t see—so nothing is personal.  They don’t hear—so there’s no sense arguing with them.  They don’t smell—so don’t try to tell them, “This really stinks.”   Problems also do not taste, so sharing with them how distasteful this is to your psyche is useless.  And they don’t feel, so candidly pouring forth your emotions will receive no response. 

Problems just exist, which leads me to the second approach to problems, which is PROBLEM-IGNORING.  I call these people Polly Ain’tas.  They believe that simply leading with a positive attitude will allow them to scare away all potential set-backs. 

It is a very popular mental candy-bar confection, a contention that as long as we assert “everything is going to be all right,” then trouble will pass over our doorway and visit other, more negative individuals.  The end result with these people is a second “p”—pitiful.  Because when trouble does not bypass them, they are not only beset by trial, but disheveled, disorganized and disappointed by their philosophy having no traction.

Polly Ain’tas think good things should happen to Polly, and candidly, there just ain’t no truth to that. 

Is there a power in positive thinking? 

Positive thinking is like one side of a triangle—it is impossible for it to stand by itself.  Positive thinking needs a second side and a base to hold it up.  Positive thinking, when combined with positive planning and backed up by positive action, does create a holy trinity.  But the trouble is, positive-thinking people often are seduced into assuming that merely maintaining a jubilant attitude is enough to scare away the demons.  Remember, the Bible says that the demons believe—and they tremble.  In other words, demons are not scared away by your positive attitude.  They themselves know the way things are and the positive portions of the universe.  It’s just that they’re determined to disrupt it.

And God allows anarchy because in the midst of anarchy, things are broken into pieces so they can be reassembled in a better way.  Without that, we’re stuck with the original manufactured product.

Polly Ain’tas don’t like this.  So they approach life with the phrase, “I don’t have trouble.”  It’s amazing how unimpressed problems are with proclamations.  And when the positive fails to deliver its care package to our teepee, we often find ourselves huddled around the fire, pitifully lamenting the desecration of our Great Spirit.

There is nothing worse than Polly Ain’tas at the end of a good, old-fashioned life-thumping, because not only do they get thumped, but they remain thumped because their level of discouragement will not heal.

Polly Ain’tas—those folks who walk around saying, “I don’t have trouble,” displaying their positive attitude, which is quickly displaced by the sheer, brute force of reality, leaving them in a pitiful heap, licking their surprising wounds.

Is there a power to positive thinking?  Yes—when it’s mingled with positive planning and positive action.  Without it, it is one side of a triangle, trying to balance itself, only to ingloriously fall in on our heads.

So that’s two:

 Pair-annoying.  “I don’t want trouble.” 

And Polly Ain’tas.  “I don’t have trouble.”

So who’s next? 

Don’t you think that sounds like tomorrow?  

The Real P-Ditty (#781)

May 14^th, 2010

          I travel, which demands staying in motels.  The main difference among motels is in the price tag and the level of service.  Other than that, you have a bed, a television and a toilet.  One of the things you have to learn in travel is that you are not going to eat in restaurants every day.  Not only is it cost-prohibitive, but impossible to maintain any type of good food regimen for health.  So it is important that you learn how to cook—or at least, microwave—food in your room.  I can even whip up a casserole in a microwave that could pass for the blue plate special at a decent diner.

          The other night I was involved in such an endeavor when I opened up a jar of gravy which I was going to pour into my casserole.  It slipped from my hands and spilled out onto the bed sheet next to me.  I cannot explain to you how shocking it is to see turkey gravy dribbled all over a white sheet.  I wouldn’t exactly call it the abomination of desolation, but very unnatural—like a monkey dating a rhinoceros.  

 The issue at that point is not whether the turkey gravy has spilled.  This is a well-established, dripping fact.  The issue is, what next?  How will I handle the situation?  What will be my tune—my ditty, if you will?

          I realized there are four approaches, and if you don’t mind, over the next few days I would like to deal with each of them.

          The first approach in life to such a mishap is PROBLEM-FEARING—or what I might coyly refer to as pair-annoying.

 There are individuals who live on this planet who are so intimidated by the possibility of difficulty that they allow the unholy pair of fear and arrogance to drive them away from new possibilities, making them appear to be annoying hindrances to progress.  They are scared.  And their fear comes with an arrogance—that arrogance expressed in three parts:  (1) “It’s not fair.” (2) “I’m too good to have to deal with bad;” and (3) “If there is a God, why doesn’t He do something?”

          When you mingle the fear of difficulty with the arrogance of assuming that our own righteousness should exclude us from tribulation, you end up with a pair-annoying that ceases the innovation of freshness and terminates the possibility of personal discovery and evolution.

          Put quite simply, a problem-fearer (or a pair-annoying person) would look at spilled gravy and spend at least two or three minutes in lamentation, or screaming at someone else in the room about why they didn’t help out or why this happened in the first place, culminating with a tension that would freeze ideas from bringing resolution.

          It is a FEAR of difficulty and ARROGANCE about our standing in the universe that causes us to come up with a profile that exudes, “I don’t want trouble.”   So people who walk this way not only have trouble—because it is just the lot of human beings to occasionally be salted with pepper—but they welcome additional complications in with their aggravation over the fussiness happening in the first place. 

You may feel free to say, “I don’t want trouble.”  You may even try to go into a witness protection program to escape it.  But trouble will find you—and laugh at your fear and attack your arrogance.

          Problem-fearing leads to pair-annoying, where fear and arrogance cause individuals to seep, through their pores, the notion, “I don’t want trouble.”

          So that’s the first profile in our search for finding the “good in the gravy.”  Because there’s always the chance it will spill.  The question is, what’s next?

          That’s one.  See you tomorrow.  

The Word is “Voluntold” (#780)

May 13^th, 2010

I was finishing packing up my car in Denmark , Wisconsin , last night when a delightful lady came to my side for some conversation.  She said her son had made up a word when recently asked to perform a task at the church, spontaneously.  I believe his name was Colin.  But anyway, she said the word was “voluntold”—a combination of volunteer and told.  I thought it was so entertaining and inspirational that I wanted to share it with you.

I think “voluntold” is probably the whole essence of becoming a successful grown-up, because somewhere along the line we have to get over the childish brattiness of thinking that everything has to be our own idea or even our own desire.  There are just things that have to be done and if we have an opinion about them and end up doing them half-way, we generally will have to do them all over again, or just sit in a big sticky puddle of our own failure.

Yes, I believe the true sign of maturity is realizing that life is just one big dose of “voluntold.”  I’m told to do something, so instead of objecting to it, I decide to play it out as if I’ve volunteered. 

Here’s the three-step process to explain this phenomenon:

1.  Find the need.  Need exists.  Smart people discover it and instead of arguing about it or fussing with it, they pursue it as their daily bread, which leads to:

2.  Get the greed.  Convince yourself to energize your passions to believe that you have been excited about meeting this need all along.  It is a bit of theatrics, but after all, Shakespeare did say “all the world’s a stage.”  True happiness in life is selling ourselves on the reality that what needs to be done is what we really wanted to do in the first place.  If you spend your whole life pursuing things that do not necessarily need to be done, you will always end up with a hobby that no one’s interested in, and certainly couldn’t put a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.  And the final step:

3.  Plant the seed.  The true choice in life is not controlling what needs to be done or even manifesting true passion, but rather, selecting our own personal style and way of doing it.  Nobody writes like me.  Nobody sings like me.  And nobody lives their life like me.  Lots of people write; lots of people sing, and lots of people live.  I have no uniqueness there.  My individuality is manifested in how I plant my seed into the soil of humanity.

          So to that dear lady in Denmark , Wisconsin , and her son, thank you for the word, “voluntold.”  Because if your doctor tells you that you need to quit smoking or you’re going to die, the most intelligent thing to do is to volunteer for a new approach and experimental treatment on quitting smoking.  Make it your idea—even though you’ve been told it’s essential.

So find the need, get the greed and plant the seed—and go out there and VOLUNTOLD.

A Little Story (#779)

May 12^th, 2010

I knew a little man who lived in a little town and worked a little job for a little salary with little results and little advancement.  He attended a little church where little folks worshipped God a little.

And then he developed a big problem, which generated a big fear and made every difficulty seem so big that he knew he needed a big solution.  So he went to the big bank in the big town and got a big loan with really big interest to help him with his big problem so his big fear wouldn’t be so big. 

But the money was less than the need and the problem was more than he thought, so having less, he demanded more and his demand for more—well, it made him less popular.  The more he needed the less he got.  And the less he got, the more he worried.  And the more he worried, the less he worked.  And the less he worked, well—his problems just became more.

So one day when he was worrying about evil, a good opportunity came his way.  Fearing that it was just more evil, he failed to see the good.  “What good is this,” he said, “if it turns out to be evil?  And when did evil ever turn itself into good?”

So good was ignored by him because it could have been evil.  And evil came to live because good was not around. 

So if you ever meet such a fellow, you might just want to tell him this:  “If you desire less evil, then seek out more good—in a big way, every day, with little fear.”

Who Cares?

May 11^th, 2010

          It was Sunday morning and I was finishing up my time at the book table after my second presentation at a church in Greenville , Wisconsin .  I had met some wonderful people.  What makes them wonderful to me is that even though they have their own lives, for a few moments they allow this traveling vagabond to insert some ideas and scraps of talent into that existence and they consider the potentials.

          Pretty remarkable.

          Well, anyway, I was sitting at my book table, all alone (as the church was nearly vacated).  All at once, in front of me, there was this small, older woman, bending over, picking up things off of the carpet in front of the table.  She was so intensely involved in her task that she didn’t even notice I was sitting there—at least I didn’t think so.  So I just watched her. 

          Even though she was quite aged, she was very limber and was making the journey down to the rug with tremendous agility.  After a moment, I spoke.  “Thank you.”

          She looked up, a bit startled.  I continued, “Thank you for picking up those cake and muffin crumbs that dropped on the carpet.  They can really get ground in and hard to vacuum up.”

          She beamed.  I love it when people beam.  It usually happens when somebody finally notices that they’re doing something important—a task relegated to insignificance.   She explained that she always came through and bent over to pick up the obvious crumbs because her daughter was responsible for vacuuming the carpet and she wanted to make her job a little easier.

          I don’t know—maybe I was feeling sentimental or a little nutty, but it nearly made me cry.  How outstanding to be in the presence of someone who quietly does a deed to make somebody else’s life easier!  There is no praise for it.  No salary.  No recognition.  No monetary or emotional value to the action—just personal responsibility and individual joy.

          She went on to tell me that she was eighty-five years old—I think it was—and I told her how I was astounded that she was able to bend down so easily.  It was a brief encounter, but I think she walked away from it feeling even better than before—because one human being noticed.

          Now, I know we’re supposed to do things because they’re right—but we’re human.  Doing right isn’t always enough.  We need confirmation.  We need to be affirmed.  We certainly need to be edified.

          Would it kill us to tell people when we see them doing good work?  Maybe we would no longer need to criticize anyone if, instead of critique, we inserted legitimate praise on those occasions when we run across excellent service, caring, craft or concern. 

          Yes.  I think that’s true.  I probably could eliminate criticism from my life if instead, I would give it up for folks when I run across good effort.  Then everybody would know the absence of my appreciation was a case in point of the absence of quality.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could develop a reputation for being a praiser of goodness and an ignorer of the mediocre? 

          “Thank you for that hamburger.  Such excellent service.”

          “Wow!  How quickly you put the tires on my car!  I appreciate it.”

          “That piano piece you played for the prelude—it really sounded difficult.  I enjoyed it and thank you for practicing it.”

          “Can I tell you how much I am grateful for you putting those extra pickles on for me without charge?”

          “Thank you for cleaning my room.  I know it’s your job, but you sure did it well.”

          How many bombings, religious intolerances, political fiascos and personal breakdowns could be avoided by simple moments of noticing people doing what they do pretty doggone well?

          Otherwise, our apathy leads people to believe that effort is meaningless.  Maybe that’s why our banks failed.  Could be why Wall Street tumbles now and again.  Because when quality is treated the same as mediocrity, what’s the sense in trying?

          Who cares?  I do.  And on top of that, I plan on letting you know.  It’s one way I can change the world. 

It’s one way I can help that lovely lady clean the crumbs off the carpet.

Knees and Toes

May 10^th, 2010

          The pendulum doth swing—and every time it does, it ends up hitting me in the rear end because I refuse to follow the bouncing trend, instead centering myself to be continually smacked.  What is it with our society, where we feel the best cure for the present disease is to run over and embrace a new disorder?  Why do we believe that extreme contradiction to previous assertions is the common-sense solution to an obvious failure? 

          I boil it down to knees and toes. 

 I think humanity bounces between these two body parts--when and where to use them.  Right now we’re in the middle of a reverence kick, where everybody’s a believer, everybody loves God, everybody’s good in their own way, nothing is our fault, and we should stop trying so hard, believe in ourselves more and everything will be okay. 

I call it the “knees phase.”  We’re spending a lot of time on our knees, praying for peace, seeking God to explain earthquakes and famines, and piously proffering petitions to God about the sins of other people.  Religion has become an “amen” to a society that would rather compromise than pursue excellence.  So obviously, we have to create a God who is equally as generous and ambivalent to our faults and weaknesses. 

The only trouble with being on your knees is that it’s physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually impossible to be on your toes.  We admire athletes who consecrate themselves to excellence while we simultaneously extol the doctrine of modicum in our own lives.  It is not feasible to be on your toes while kneeling and succumbing to the mediocre. 

Am I saying that prayer creates mediocrity?  No.  I’m saying that mediocrity causes people to want to pray instead of perform—and the prayers begin to reek with the insipid language of the non-participant. 

“God, we are not able as human beings to achieve Your will.  We are weak and lack the motivation to love one another.  We are without means to save ourselves and need your grace to drag us through and pull us away from the temptations…”

Hogwash.

When are we going to realize that one of the greatest insults to our Creator is to continually complain to Him about how inadequate we are as a completed vessel?  It’s like going to Ford Motor Company and praising them for the fact that they manufacture cars as you present a list of fallacies in their assembly-line production. 

Where is skill?  Where is the pursuit of betterment?  Where are the people who do honor for the time that they humbly have spent on their knees by spending the rest of the time on their toes, trying to find more effective, intelligent, and may I say? simpler, ways to achieve progress?

I am tired of corporations which have excuses for inferior products.  I am weary of politicians who tell me they are unable to perform the task for which they were elected because the problems are so complex.  And I am beleaguered beyond words with a church that tries to honor God from a defeated position. 

Yes—I spend time on my knees, but only to give my toes a needed rest.  Yes, I spend time on my knees, but more often than not, to thank God for what transpired while I was on my toes.  Yes, I do pray—but an evolving petition, thinking of the needs of others instead of selfishly asking God to do what more often than not is within my own power to accomplish.

Knees and toes.  The pendulum doth swing. 

And certainly it is possible to be so motivated with your own belief in your ability that you leave God out of the equation.  But I would much rather deal with constructive, driven human beings and teach them the value of thankfulness, than I would to try to enliven the reverent, nailed to the ground.

Knees and toes.  The pendulum swings.  But let us not forget that Christ died, hanging on a cross—but on his toes.  And when the Bible says, “having done all, stand…” we must realize that standing is a position that takes us to our toes instead of our knees.  

A Belated Letter

May 9^th, 2010

Dear Mother,

          I always thought you were so old.

          Sorry about that.  Please keep in mind, this was coming from a second-grader who thought fifth-graders were grown-ups.    You weren’t old.  You were just adult—my mom.  Now I realize that inside you was a little girl who had absolutely no idea how she got from the prom to a wedding and landed in a maternity ward.  It was fast.

          You see, I thought you were born a mother—hatched from your egg wearing an apron.  I didn’t know about your dreams.  Wanted to go to college?   See the Eiffel tower?  Sing at Carnegie Hall?  I thought you just cooked, cleaned and cured in contentment.

          For instance, I believed you were always aware of how to bandage a skinned knee.  I considered your kisses magical—but reserved for boo-boos.

          And then there’s monogamy—sounded like a good idea, didn’t it?  But then, here comes the tenth anniversary.  Same man.  Same habits.  Same routine.  And  … same temptations?  Yes.  Temptations.  You were attractive.  I thought you were old.  (Oh, yeah.  I already said that.)

          But old men are around, you know.  They hinted.  But you didn’t give in.  You just took that energy, came home and folded it in to Tuesday night’s meat loaf or adding additional elastic to the family budget. 

          I realized today that you birthed your last child during the Eisenhower administration.  Women’s liberation for you was merely permission to give a lecture at the Ladies Auxiliary on “Making the Family Your Life.”  You were linked with a man—my father—and were commanded to turn that into your essence.

          And you were a mother before PMS and post-partum depression, so you were told to hush up instead of being given needed attention or medication.  You did your job.  You weren’t always joyous, but you knew how to make it appear that way.

          I found out much later that you hated to clean house.  You didn’t particularly enjoy cooking.  But you did it—because the alternative was to leave something undone.  Unforgivable.

          I am grateful.  I am grateful because you pursued the path of love instead of giving in to quiet desperation.  I am also grateful that mothers who have followed you have been given voice instead of just responsibility. 

          I learned a lot from you.  I learned to give to others.  I learned dedication to a needed cause.  I learned to put my dirty underwear into a clothes hamper. 

          But I also have corrected some errors.  I have more fun than you did.  I laugh more with my kids.  I don’t demand as much.  Bluntly … I insist on being happy. 

          I know you would have agreed with the improvements.  Thank you, my lady.  Because you went from being Mommy, to Mom, to Mother, to a lady.

          There’s a lot to be said for that.

          I’m very sorry you didn’t get your dreams.  I will honor you as I reach mine.

          You are gone.  They tell me that heaven is your latest address.  No cleaning there, I hear.  No meals to prepare—instead, a table spread just for you.         Actually, there’s just no need to be a mother any more.  How delightful.  The little girl can finally chase her dreams.

                    Love,

                   Number Four

Running Out of Names

May 8^th, 2010

          It seems to me that we are beginning to run out of names for conditions and disorders to explain why people aren’t happy.  Even though I would agree there are physiological reasons for emotional responses, I also contend that many times, we as people are recoiling from the last time someone told us “you can’t” or “you aren’t.”

          Those two thoughts are the most vicious words we can utter to another living creature.  “You can’t.”  “You aren’t.”

          Why?  Because it changes their pursuit from a profile of “live” to a frenetic energy of “prove.”  In other words, they are no longer trying to just live their lives and enjoy themselves.  Instead, they have replaced living with a pernicious desire to prove a point.  And it generally happens because someone came along and flippantly informed them, “You can’t” and “You aren’t.” 

“You can’t do this” and “You aren’t who you think you are.”

          This is not our job.

          Life is fully prepared and qualified to discourage the misinformed and untalented.  Let life do its job.  You and I should just shut up—because when you add “you can’t” and “you aren’t” to someone’s mental merry-go-round, they begin to try to prove themselves—turning their life into a veritable carnival.

           So how do you know if you are trying to prove yourself instead of just living? 

The art of living is marked by the cycle of laughing and learning.  The treadmill of proving is always riddled with struggle and lies. 

If you find yourself struggling to make a point and lying over your defeats and failures, you are more than likely rebounding from a verbal attack—where someone said you can’t and you aren’t.

          Normal psychological and emotional health is demonstrated by an understanding that humanity has a side salad of frailty and requires a dressing of laughter while we prepare for the main course—learning.

          I thought about this last night after a dream.  In my dream the memory of a friend came to me and I realized that much of what he had done in his life had been triggered by a single incident where it was made clear to him by those he loved:  “you can’t” and “you aren’t.”  At that point, all laughter and learning departed, and living was replaced by proving, which haunted him with struggle and the presumption of lying.

          My heart was moved for him.

          It made me think about the times I’ve said “You can’t” and “you aren’t.” How intelligent I felt at that juncture; how powerful and priestly my pearls of wisdom!  After all, I was just trying to spare them pain.

          Not my job.  Not my purpose.  Not meant for human decision.

          So how do I know whether I’m proving others wrong or actually living?  Consider these three questions:

1.     Can I fail, admit it, roll with the punches and recover without fearing that I look inferior?

2.     Is it all right with me that I am one of many who do what I do?

3.     Can I do my thing without feeling the pressing need of others praising it?

If the answer to these three questions is “yes,” then you probably have no trouble laughing and learning.  But if you find a “no” lurking in the shadows, it may explain why you find your journey to be a bit of a struggle and occasionally will lie to protect your status.

So let us pray for two things to happen.  First, that we as human beings stop the nasty practice of telling others “you can’t” and “you aren’t.”  Let life be life and let God be God.  Secondly, let us take a moment to track down where we try to prove ourselves instead of just living. 

It is well worth the review—because the true test of life is not whether we’re successful.  The true examination of our time as humans is whether we find a way to be happy.  

The AND of the World

May 7^th, 2010

          Do you ever wonder if the world gets offended because so many folks seemingly want it to end?  What have they got against the good earth?  In addition, it’s very hypocritical because those same people take medication to save their bodies and exercise like crazy men and women to stay healthy.  So let’s be candid here.  All of us pretty well work out like hell … to avoid heaven.

          What is it with this “end of the world” obsession?

          Case in point.  An old friend of mine called me on the phone telling me her woes, her frustrations with her marriage, her poverty, and then she closed the conversation by saying, “Thank God Jesus is coming soon and then it will be all right.”

          Really?

          Okay.  Let me be the one to say it.  Jesus is NOT coming soon. 

          I don’t share that in an irreverent way, and if Jesus wants to come back—well, he can pretty well come back any time he wants to. 

 But what I fear is that the reason these folks want Jesus to return is not to have a really good session of fellowship, but instead, to create the “end of the world” so they don’t have to deal with the AND of the world.

          There are so many scriptures in the Bible that place personal responsibility for the planet’s well-being, upkeep, joy, relevance and mercy upon us that I call these thoughts the “AND-IES.” 

They are the times the Bible tells me to love myself AND my neighbor.  Go into the world AND preach the good news.  Ask AND it shall be given.  Seek AND ye will find.  Knock AND the door shall be opened.  Give AND it shall be given unto you.

Can I impress upon you that God has no intention of decorating your life on His own while you sit back and critique the color of the drapes?  It is the AND in this world that determines the destiny of where our generation and future generations will head.

I often think that people want the END of the world because they don’t want to deal with the AND—that AND in the Bible that includes us in the process of redemption, salvation, justice and even prosperity.

My dear friend was ready for Jesus to come to save her for a life she had created—and hopefully he will do it before the next rent check is due.  Honestly, that should give him reason enough to remain in heavenly places.  Because it is in “such an hour that we do not know”—and one that we should avoid—“that Jesus will return to earth again.”  Because at that time, the stupidity and greed of mankind will be so great that there will be no other alternative. 

God forbid.

Hell, I don’t want that on my watch, do you?  Not as long as there is breath in my lungs and willingness in my soul do I want to be present when God has to give up on the project.

Shame on you, end-timers.  Because in the long run, you do not believe that God is able to do “exceedingly above what we might will and think.”  And I still contend there is hope and opportunity for the folks around me.

So be careful, you churches out there holding your little Bible classes on the Book of Revelation and studying eschatology, trying to usher in a premature heavenly reward.  Don’t you think your time would be better spent getting your folks excited about their lives instead of exasperated about problems in the Middle East that have been around since the first camel dropped its dung in the desert?

Yes, I am convinced that when you start telling God how bad the world is, He doesn’t smile.  He bristles.  Remember—God loves the world.  That’s why He gave us His son.  And I don’t think Sonny-boy is ready to give up on his flock just yet.

So wake up and stop talking about the end of the world because you’re afraid of the AND of the world. 

Many years ago I wrote a book called The Gospel According to Common Sense.  I will close this essay with one of the sitting titles from that book:  I Don’t Want to Talk About the Second Coming until I Understand and Share the First One.

Finally Got It

May 6^th, 2010

          I enjoyed the people of New London , Wisconsin , last night, and I will always remember the experience because it settled something in my soul.  I’ve had an inkle about it for a long time.  But I think I’ve finally got it.

            Here it is:  if you’re going to go on a spiritual adventure, you’d better leave your moral compass behind.

          The minute a moral compass is introduced into spirituality, it changes everything to religion, creating of fear and intimidation instead of freedom and liberty. 

          I know morality is important.  I’ll even go so far as to say it’s essential.  But the presence of a moral compass is the assumption that we know we want to head north.  Or go south.  Or pursue east and west.  We merely use the compass to confirm that we are continuing to head in a righteous direction. 

A true spiritual adventure is a willingness to become lost to truly be found.

It is learning to enjoy the landscape instead of fearing it because it’s luring you away from your destination.  It is spending some time in the trees with Mother Nature instead of yearning to be home.  It requires some flexibility, some uncertainty, some wonder and a wander-lust for the unknown.

We have translated a spiritual pursuit for closeness with God to a series of commandments, doctrines and traditions which we sincerely hope will make us pleasing in the sight of the Divine.  The only trouble is, God doesn’t spend His time with the ninety-nine safe in the barn.  God’s interest always goes to the sheep which is seemingly lost.

We are running our country on a moral compass that we occasionally insist is absent so we reinsert the authority of that judgmental apparatus into the mix to make sure that everyone conforms.  But the warning from the scriptures is, “Be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

How can my mind be renewed if I’m positive which direction north, south, east and west will be? 

I know my discovery will meet criticism from people who insist that such a statement is irresponsible and opens the door to moral chaos.  I just don’t believe that moral chaos happens when people are on a true spiritual pursuit.  But people who are on a phony spiritual pursuit can be just as immoral as the drunkard in the gutter.

To be on a true spiritual pursuit, you have to allow God to tell you what direction to go, as He whispers in your heart—not as you stare at a compass or a book, or scream commandments out as orders to the frightened infantry.

I met a man last night who had to cast a vote to continue his spiritual journey—a vote which ended up costing him nearly half of his congregation.  He had to temporarily set aside his ideas, culture and fears.  To gain the true spirit of God, he had to walk away from friends he had known for a long time.  But you know what?  He did it.

And what he received for his brave action was liberty—permission to continue a spiritual journey which guarantees God as a guide instead of just a book of rules and a moral compass. 

Yes, sometimes you have to welcome in the tax collectors, fishermen, riff-raff, Gentiles and whores—and let God sort it all out.

Rub-a-Dub-Dub

May 5^th, 2010

Rub-a-dub-dub

Three men in a tub

The cow jumped over the moon

Jack and Jill went up a hill

And Little Boy Blue come blow your horn

          … a collision of verses from childhood memories, complicated and confusing.  Too much information.  It is a problem, you know. 

 Allegedly, in the pursuit of truth, we accumulate knowledge, which only baffles us in ongoing mystery.  Let me come back to that rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub.

Many, many years ago, in a kingdom far away, I got in my car with three other guys and drove to Indiana .  The car was a Ford Fiesta Ghia.  There was an immediate problem.  The car was very small.  I was very large.  When you add three other folks into the same confined space, you make sardine living appear luxurious.  But we didn’t care.  We were excited, gifted enough with talent to be heard, but not polished enough to travel all the way to Indiana to gain audience.

Still, we went.

Fortunately, it was a little town with delightfully big-hearted people who decided to let us, for three days, display our wares, ideas and abilities to what ended up being their delight. 

It was magical.  It was simple. 

One of the young fellows traveling with me was kind of crazy—and I don’t mean in the sense of being fun-loving and wild.  I mean crazy—a little loony.  But he had a big heart.  Another young man was an escapee from a fundamentalist religious hell, where he had been held in the dungeon of scriptural torture.  He was rejoicing over being free and discovering that he had a bit of knack for drama.  The other chap was a singer/musician who just happened to have black skin, which in itself was a bit of a shock to the Indiana locals.  And then there was me—a fat, fun-loving guy who deep in my heart had a burgeoning love for people.

We stayed for three days.  Money was tight for both us and the congregation.  People were moved.  We saw a young man healed by God’s good grace.  The fellowship was so rich that tears were shed by everyone when it was time to go.

I will never forget that moment—and what I remember the most was how simple it was.  It was free of committees, it was absent apprehension, and it was devoid of manipulation.  There was so little planning involved that each and every problem that came up demanded that we assess all the possibilities because we had prepared for none of them.  I realized how Godly and perfect it was. 

It caused me to develop a philosophy I still try to use today.  I would like to pass it along for your consideration:

Do simple things frequently. 

We exist in a climate where the marching orders are to do complicated things annually and with as much planning and difficulty as possible.  We seem to always find the most obtuse way to achieve tiny goals, and then, because the process is so grievous and difficult, we swear to never do it again.  It causes us to be jaded, it promotes cynicism and it renders us insipid.

I will never forget climbing in a car with three other smelly guys and driving to Indiana to share ideas and feelings with a handful of people whose tears of joy sowed great hope in our hearts.

I can recommend it.  Well, you might want to get a bigger car.  But do simple things frequently. 

It removes the ache of angst and the despair of disappointment.

Good At It

May 4^th, 2010

           Truly, it is what we all want.  We want to be considered “good at it”—whatever it is that we do.  The desire to be considered “good” is so intense that it even causes us to fudge the facts and lie about the results to achieve the approval.

          But the most important thing to be good at is “repent.”  And I’m not talking about those occasions when we look down at our trousers and see a mustard stain and change into a new pair, or when we remember the last time we were out of breath and consider how poorly we achieved the process.  That would be “re-PANT.”

          Seriously, repent is when we acknowledge failure instead of admitting it.  The power of acknowledgment grants us the permission to try again.  Admitting failure connotes that we were caught, and therefore makes us suspect for further involvement.

          I think the greatest attribute any of us can add to our arsenal of personality traits is to cease to be afraid of failure and embrace failure as an opportunity to establish our honesty and integrity. 

We must understand first and foremost that impatience causes most of our failures—looking for a shortcut, feeling cheated, worrying about results, and self-centered pursuits—all are triggered and ignited by the fuel of impatience.  It is why Jesus said “in our patience we possess our souls.”

Impatience grows inside us mainly due to unrealistic expectation.  We cease to believe that what we are is enough, so we contend that we should be more. 

It screws us up.

So when our efforts prove to be inadequate, flawed or even errant, we feel the need to cover up instead of candidly repenting.

Here are the steps I believe that make repentance work:

1.  I have done something wrong for me.  I know there are things that are considered to be universally wrong, and those are often so obvious that it’s difficult to get a chance to repent of them before you are accosted by the masses.  That’s why I think we should set our introspection to a level where we can assess and gauge what is wrong for us.  It is my personal assessment.  It may not be wrong for you.  It may not even sound wrong to you.  But there are certain things expected of me that aren’t expected of you, and visa versa.  Once again, Jesus’ words:  “To he whom is given much, much is expected.”  When I set my meter of self-judgment to what’s wrong for me, I can usually achieve the second point in the repentance process:

2.  I have discovered my error first.  I am NOT leaving myself to the mercy of common street judgment.  My standards are my standards, and therefore when I fail to achieve them, I can discover the discrepancy before other people start pointing it out to me.  I will bluntly say, it is impossible to repent when it is demanded that you recant.  If somebody is forcing you to come to terms with what you’ve done, you’ve lost the power of selection and intelligent realization.  Which leads to the third point:

3.  I speak it aloud.  How do you know when you’re finally becoming successful in life?  When you are repenting of things in front of people who think the thing you’re repenting of is not really necessary.  If you want to receive the prize, you have to learn to run in front of the herd.  Your ideals and demands of yourself need to be different than the common-throng-pattern.  So when you make a mistake—something wrong for you—speak it aloud.  My dear God, I cannot tell you how empowering it is and how beneficial it is for others who might be frightened to take such a leap. 

Shame on Nixon for Watergate.

          Shame on Clinton for Lewinski-gate.

          Not because they made mistakes—but because they thought their own level of importance was maintained by purity instead of honesty.

          I speak it out loud.  Why?  Because:

4.  It grants me an opportunity to try again.  If I caught my goof, I get a re-do.  If you caught my blunder, I am at your mercy.  Repenting gives me the power to choose when and even where I can join the game again.  And then finally I gain the supreme gift from the practice of repentance:

5.  I learn to be patient.  For after all, it was impatience that caused me to try to skip a step to get up the stairs more quickly.  The stumble that resulted has taught me the importance of staying alert for each and every maneuver. 

          The best way to learn patience is to repent. 

And the best way to repent is to understand that impatience has placed us in a position where we need to be openly vulnerable to those around us.

          There is only one thing that all of us need to be good at:  repenting.  It is what caused God to favor a man named David, who was an adulterer, a murderer, a liar, a cheat, a terrible parent and a philanderer.  Not really a good resume.  Except for one thing: 

He was an excellent repenter.

 Cleansed

May 3^rd, 2010

          Yesterday I had an argument.  It was not nearly highbrow enough to be called a discussion.  It was one of those junctures where two rational human beings both take a turn from reality.  Both parties feel so right that they’re sure they’ve been wronged.

          After a few moments of furious dialogue, a need settles in the air for resolution.  As Americans, we’ve come up with this nasty culmination to conflict:  “Let’s just agree to disagree.” 

 The arrogance of this proposal is beyond bounds.  Nobody “agrees” to “disagree.”  We just agree that we are still right and the other person is so ridiculously ignorant that they cannot grasp it. 

Arguments need to be cleansed.  We understand the cleansing process, don’t we?  It requires two ingredients:  water and soap.  We naturally are aware that rinsing something with water does not clean it.  And we’re also cognizant that merely running a bar of soap across the surface does not achieve much of anything either. 

We need water.  And we need soap.

The equivalent of that in the human experience is that water is usually referred to as words and soap—the cleaning out—is emotions; thus the phrase “pure of heart.”  The two have to work together, though having few similarities. 

Water flows.  Soap scrubs.

So to come to terms with a real resolution in an argument, there must be words and there must be emotions.  To remove the words is to just pitter, patter and proffer feelings at the other person without allowing for a verbal interchange.  To share words without emotions is to establish the rightness of our own cause without really listening to the reasoning and ideas of the other.  To complete the union of two human hearts in a peaceful conclusion demands the water of words with the scrubbing action of emotion.  That’s why it’s so difficult—because sometimes emotions get overwrought and scrub too hard and leave abrasions and soreness behind.  And of course, we know that words, like water, can drown us in their own flood of overuse.

So I think words have to come first—to moisten the surface.  Then the emotions can be allowed to come in to gently clean away the difficulty.  Therefore, let me tell you what I’m saying and then let me tell you how it feels.  If it’s applied correctly, with a desire to really achieve a treaty of understanding, eventually the water of the words dampens the situation to allow for a good cleaning up.

It is tricky business—not recommended for the childish.  No one lets a baby into a bathtub to cleanse him or herself.  And we certainly can’t allow the times when we’re acting like a baby to control such a beautiful cleansing process.

Here are three steps I think are essential for handling an argument:

1.  Set a standard for brief statements no longer than thirty seconds which end in a question, giving the other person thirty seconds to respond.  (A stopwatch is not needed).

2.  It is illegal to bring up anything that has not happened in the past forty-eight hours

3.  Leave emotion out of the situation until the words have clarified the problem, and only then use emotion to make sure the same situation doesn’t happen to dirty up the relationship again.

          Here’s the question—can we actually stop long enough to rationally conduct a civil disagreement?  If we can’t, we’re not really having an argument.  We are continuing a war based upon unresolved conflicts that have clouded the issue for a long time coming.  At that point we may need help from someone else.

But if we can remember that at the heart of the relationship is love and not mistrust, we can also have the maturity to conduct a gentler completion to our fussiness.

          Arguments. 

 I hate them.  And it’s not because I need to be right.  It’s because right demands a cleansing—the correct balance of the water of words and the soap of emotion.

The Jesus Dilemma

May 2^nd, 2010

          If the only thing acquired through an encounter with Jesus is procuring a Savior guaranteeing a heavenly reward, then Christianity is absolutely useless.  Why?  Because eternity is beyond both our comprehension and our control.  Yet we live a daily life in an environment that demands we come to terms with both, because it’s important that we comprehend it and it’s important that we gain enough control in our journey that we make a difference in the world around us.

          The true power of Christianity and the reason I believe firmly in its tenets and thrust, is that the world and the people around us are not our problem.  Our situation is better handled and best addressed by focusing on our own gifts and our own inadequacies.  I will guarantee you this—as long as you believe that people, circumstances, hassles and difficulty are what determine the quality of your existence, you will never find happiness, nor be able to impart the blessing of that overflow to the people around you.

          Jesus’ message was simple.  Don’t try to cast the tiny speck out of your brother’s eye, but rather, focus on the beam in your own.  Don’t be concerned about what direction the political climate is going in your world; become the salt of the earth and the light in your environment.  Don’t condemn and destroy people because they don’t agree with what you believe.  “This is not the spirit I have given you.”  His message was to focus on our own lives and let that energy spill out to our relationships.

It goes on and on.  It is a message of gentle introspection, good cheer, self-forgiveness, inner motivation and cutting slack to the frailties of those around us.

          The alternative to this is to believe in God and his son Jesus in order to gain entrance into heaven, with no inclination in our earthly passage of what that ultimate encounter is really going to be like.  The Lord’s Prayer does say, “Your will be done here on earth, as it is in heaven.”

          It saddens me that Jesus has become a polarizing figure—even in his own church.  We have taken another turn towards viewing him as divine and separated ourselves from his humanity.  A consensus of the scriptures will quickly tell you that Jesus was totally human, with a side of God—not a full entrée of God with a salt-sprinkle of humanity.

          Lacking that insight, Christianity, which was intended to be a movement of human spirit and heart, has ingloriously been turned into a religion.  We have established a kingdom on earth for what Jesus intended to be a kingdom in the hearts of believers. 

So what’s the problem?  The problem is there’s not a nickel’s difference between the psyche, emotion and mindset of the normal Christian and the average person who doesn’t believe at all.   We’ve added an additional atrocity with the introduction of the movie, Passion of the Christ, by turning the dynamic Nazarene’s message and lifestyle into nine-and-a-half hours of being a victim at the hands of the stupid, the religious and the political.

It is time for good people everywhere who benefit from the wisdom and teachings of Jesus to rise up and reclaim the reputation of their friend.  If we don’t, Jesus will continue to be the poster child for every self-righteous morality campaign, every political maneuver emphasizing focus on the family, and every church traditionalist who wants to dress up in Druid robes, light candles and murmur mantras over a cup and a loaf of bread.

The power of the gospel is in the gospel and life of Jesus.

Did he bring us salvation?  Yes—as we came kicking and screaming.

Was he the son of God?  Yes—and according to the Gospel of John, he gave us the power to become sons of God, too.

The Jesus Dilemma.  Can you accept him as savior and deny him the function of his philosophy—the ability to change your culture? 

I don’t think so.  And I think we have several generations of failed policy to prove my point.  

Steam

May 1^st, 2010

          I raised seven boys—actually, six all the way to adulthood, having lost Joshua to the complications of a hit-and-run car accident—pneumonia.  But I had six young men come through my house with raging hormones and horny inclinations. 

I considered all the options offered by society and the religious community about how to handle the issue of sex in training these fellows.  One school of thought was abstinence.  Abstinence, by its very name and nature, seems prudent—except for the fact that urges and opportunities do not disappear simply because we want them to. The second school of thought was basically a variation on “boys will be boys.”  In other words, “don’t be too hard on them, because they’ll probably experiment, check out pornography and mess around a little bit.” 

Can I tell you?  I was dissatisfied with both of these choices.  I did not want my children to learn about sex from either the Internet porn sites or the local church.  I felt that both institutions were ill-equipped to extol the true beauty and potential of human sexuality—one making sex look dirty, women overly-submissive and victimizing them and the other, well … pretty much the same.

It brought a phrase to my mind, and a very practical one it is:  “Letting off steam.” 

Because when there is a fire (and by the way, there is in a teen-aged boy) and there is something burning inside, (once again, every fiber of his frame) steam is going to build up, and if there’s not a way to release it, then it’s going to start seeping out in places that are not quite appropriate.

So I talked a whole lot about sex with my guys.  We joked about it.  We shared about it.  I answered all their questions to the best of my ability.  I told them what I liked; I told them what I didn’t like.  I explained to them they would spend most of their adult lives with women, not with other men, so they should learn the needs of our other half.  I let them let off steam.

And here’s what I discovered:  the more we talked about it, the more it was a common point of conversation, and the less it was considered to be a taboo or a bit of naughtiness, well, quite frankly, they were just a whole lot less interested in jumping in with both feet (even though I think that analogy is uncomfortable and not on point for this discussion.)

Meanwhile, I saw people who promoted abstinence lamenting their children having pre-marital sex at an early age.  I saw families that allowed Internet porn into their sanctuary of life who ended up with frustrated children, performing mature acts way before their brains and character had caught up with them. 

My guys were pretty normal.  Matter of fact, with the exception of one of them, when they finally did take the plunge into adult sexual relationships, each one of them came and told me.  And by the way, it was not when they were in high school, but some time later.

So what did I learn from this?  Whenever we take something that God created and look on it as a mistake that now has to be corrected with numerous rules, we miss the true wisdom of the Creator.  God digs sex.  He wouldn’t have put so many nerve endings in specific parts of the body if He didn’t.  He expected us to deal with it like we do charity, faith, and all the other portions of our make-up that comprise who we are.

So talk about it.  Discuss it.  Don’t let your children find out about sex on the Internet, in the locker-room, or even from some youth leader at your church.  Chat. 

And I found this:  the more I talked about it with my kids, the less they did. 

You know—kind of like Congress.