Jesonian … March 31st, 2018

For thirty-six hours, God walked away and left humanity to dangle in its notorious decisions.

Long ago, from six o’clock Friday to six o’clock on Sunday morning, the conclusions derived by the honoring of religion, the promotion of politics and the inclusion of jealousy reigned supreme on the Earth.

In the process, a hapless lamb was slaughtered so that a less-than-noble tribe of Bedouins could believe they were special because their ancestors had the fortitude to escape Egypt.

A governor of Judea slinked away to Caesarea to spend a quiet weekend with his wife, only to discover that she was enraged because he had failed to take her dream into consideration when judging an innocent man.

A betrayer from Kerioth who was blindly jealous of his Master, his best friend, climbed a small hill, tied a rope around his neck and hung himself from a tree.

Soldiers were demanded to guard a tomb to make sure that nobody went in, or for that matter, nobody came out.

Disciples who had followed a messenger of love were scared into hiding because they simply believed that “loving your neighbor as yourself” was not a greeting-card sentiment.

Repairmen came to clean up after an unexpected earthquake shook the region, leaving behind great damage, even in the Temple.

The world proceeded with a nauseating sameness, which gained the smugness of superiority because it appeared that any variables were nailed down and silenced.

The kingdom of religion seemed to succeed–a philosophy contending that tradition must decide.

The kingdom of politics stomped around the Great Hall, believing that greed decides.

And the kingdom of jealousy slithered away to lick its wounds, confident of temporary victory because fear had made its decision.

For thirty-six hours, God removed Himself from the circumstances, leaving religion, politics and jealousy to win the day.

It seemed that the obvious forces in power were as formidable as advertised–because everything which had objected, contradicted or shared a different approach was beaten, crucified and buried.

At first sight, there was no light.

And then God returned.

Actually, it was the Kingdom of God, which is within us. It is a Kingdom where faith decides because we are the ones who offer the input.

Even though the disciples of the slain Master were still tucked away, three women bravely made their way to a tomb.

They were not expecting a resurrection.

They were not anticipating finding a miracle.

They did what women have done since the beginning of time–they viewed how men had screwed everything up and they came to clean up the mess.

No bands played, no dignitaries arrived with a key to the city, no men who had pledged eternal allegiance surfaced.

Just three women carrying a bunch of spices, which they immediately dropped when they saw an empty tomb.

Easter is a time when we celebrate more than a resurrection. It is a moment in history when God shows us that even though insanity may temporarily take control, His grace, mercy, understanding and wisdom are never far away.

It was not easy to survive thirty-six hours without God. But because those thirty-six hours showed us the foolishness of religion, politics and jealousy, we can now revel with great joy in the Kingdom of God, which allows our faith to decide.


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Jesonian: Reasonable (Part 17) Quietly … March 27th, 2016

Jesonian hands

This morning I quietly waded into the deeper end of my thoughts.

Every spring leading up to Easter, I feel abandoned by my faith. I have a sensation of being orphaned from the Christian family.

There is a sharp turn made from the gentleness of Jesus to the sacrifice of the Lamb of God. I fail to negotiate it.

It seems we suddenly go from believing in a savior of love to believing in a surrogate who came to fulfill ancient prophesy, to be the final blood sacrifice for the iniquity of us all.

I don’t understand the transition. Oh, don’t get me wrong–I’ve studied all the doctrines on the propitiation of sin and all the angles of blood atonement.

I just miss my friend, Jesus.

I want to rewrite the ending.

And I certainly can’t believe he was part of some cosmic design by an offended God who required plasma to confirm repentance. Not even God can plan without manipulating.

So I sit quietly.

This is the story I believe:

God loves us.

He yearns to be our Father.

As our Father, He is prepared to instruct us, but is careful to grant us free will.

Feeling He had abandoned us in the trap of our own indecision, He came to Earth to be one of us–to discover the sensations and assist in the confusion.

He took a risk.

For after all, there is a little bit of heaven in us, but also insecurities that can manifest treachery.

For thirty-three years, he learned, grew, analyzed obedience and was tempted as we are.

He taught us that we are brothers and sisters, not alienated by culture, but instead, united by a common creation.

Yet there were things he said we did not like.

We enjoyed conjuring enemies instead of acquiring neighbors.

We loved to assess blame instead of shouldering responsibility.

And we deeply revered the compartment of religion, keeping it separate from our daily decisions.

So we decided to kill off our elder brother, Jesus, in order to silence the incessant reminder of our greater potential.

Fortunately, God evolved with our free will.

What was meant for evil became good–because we are now united under one blood shed for our ignorance.

It was Jesus’ blood … and the blood of the Son makes us one.