Jesonian … September 23rd, 2017

 

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Jesus got angry.

There’s no doubt about that. The Gospels make it clear that he frequently spilled out his wrath to those around him.

We don’t like this. The mind of the present theological times wholly disagrees because we desperately need to keep Jesus sheepish, quiet and gentle so that he can be the “Lamb of God slain from the foundations of the world.”

What’s amazing is, for a man who was destined to die on a cross, he put up one helluva fight. Let’s take a look at it:

He was angry when they criticized him for healing a man on the Sabbath.

He was angry when he came into the Temple and saw the money-changers cheating the faithful. (Actually, he put together a pre-meditated action of violence by making a whip to use on them for their thievery.)

He was angry at the man by the pool who was healed, who decided to turn Jesus into the scribes and Pharisees.

He was angry at his family when they thought he was crazy, and came out to take him home when he had disconnected from them.

And certainly, when the people of his home town pushed him to the edge of the cliff, it says that he “passed through the midst of them.” Perhaps you were taught that he evaporated and disappeared, but that’s not what is stated. The Bible portrays a man of strength and determination who turned to a mob and pushed his way through them.

We also know that Jesus understood anger because in his Sermon on the Mount, summarizing the Ten Commandments, he explained that the basic struggle in humans is finding a way to deal with anger and lust.

In a man, it is called testosterone. Jesus had plenty. He was not an anemic personality with pale skin, trying to love a world which only understood hate.

He was virile.

He was stubborn.

And when he saw injustice, he attacked it. Sometimes he called people hypocrites. Other times he referred to them as “graves.” And of course, he was not beyond comparing them to Satan.

So we know this: a man who deals with anger also deals with lust. For anger is often what leads us to conceive our lust, and when lust is conceived, it brings forth sin.

Jesus was surrounded by women. Oh, by the way, it wasn’t a “hands off” policy either. They were close to him, they embraced him; they even kissed his feet. It was intimate. Being intimate, the door was always open to seduction.

If the Jesus you worship could never be angry, nor lust after a woman, then you completely misunderstand the purpose for God sending His son to be a human. Being human, he was able to talk to humans–to explain humanity in a human way.

Yet Jesus did not want to be so angry that he destroyed others, and he definitely did not want to use his lust to take advantage of women who had been broken and even demon possessed.

So Jesus did the following:

1. He had three burly bodyguards around him at all times.

We often wonder why Peter, James and John never left his side. They were a trio of intimidating fishermen who scared away assassins, and made sure Jesus was never alone to be tempted by women. It was brilliant.

2. He escaped.

When he became angry or tempted, he went off by himself and navigated his own wrath and lust. He made peace with himself before he made the mistakes.

3. He created equality.

Jesus made sure that he preached the same Gospel to the women and the men. He demanded the same thing from the ladies and the gents. He created equality, which prevented him from favoring the females–coddling them–which could have led to affairs.

No man who treats a woman as an equal will ever accidentally slip and have sex. It’s only when he’s expressing sympathy, or trying to be the “knight in shining armor” to save her from her problems that he gets in trouble.

Jesus dealt with anger and lust.

He did so by refusing to trust himself, but instead, closed the door on the possibility of disaster.

Jesonian… April 22nd, 2017

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Cousin John was creating quite a stir.

He had found himself a wide spot on the Jordan River at Bethabara and was dunking people to cleanse them from their sins. News of the words and deeds of the flamboyant relative/prophet had reached Nazareth, and members of the community were split on their opinions of the events–based upon whether they had any family ties with the locust eater.

There was a lot of conversation in the home of Joseph the Carpenter, since Brother John was a part of the bloodline. Papa had died a year earlier, leaving the household to the care of his eldest son, Jesus. That oldest boy, though loyal, faithful and true, had never found great solace in carpentry, and with the death of his father, had become disillusioned with the daily chores.

After Joseph’s death, he had slipped away for a few days into the wilderness to think, and upon returning was greeted with the reports of his cousin’s outreach.

Some jealousy tried to slip in–for Jesus also felt a great calling to share a message with mankind. Knowing that John had already begun such an endeavor created a spiritual itch in him which he desperately needed to scratch.

In these fleeting moments of jealousy he was tempted to join the critics of his cousin. But ashamed of those inclinations, he decided to instead go to Bethabara and observe for himself.

It was a first step to sanity.

If something good is going on in the world, go hear it, understand it and support it.

So without announcement, he arrived at the encampment of the Baptist. He spent two weeks doing nothing but listening to his cousin, watching the events unfold and noting how John handled the contrary natures of the scribes and Pharisees.

He heard the Voice.

He dodged a huge clump of jealousy and instead developed a deep sense of admiration.

After hearing the Voice, it came time to make a choice.

Was he just going to be a watcher? Was he going to go back to Nazareth and try to be the dead carpenter’s son?

John talked about the Kingdom of God being at hand and the need to repent. Jesus stayed up one night thinking about his own repentance. For after all, there is nothing more sinful than believing you are sinless. He saw his errors. He saw where his discontentment with carpentry often came across to his family as if he had a feeling of superiority.

He knew he was tempted like everyone. He was touched with the same sicknesses that each and every human being experiences.

He wanted John’s baptism. He needed John’s baptism. It was the righteous thing to do–because if there was to be a mission, the first step to usher in the possibility was to make a choice.

Jesus made a choice.

He stood in line, waited his turn and stepped down into the Jordan River with his cousin to be cleansed.

To his surprise, the Prophet prophesied. The burly preacher called him “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”

Jesus had only met John a handful of times. There was no private coalition. So he took John’s words into his heart as he immersed himself in the experience of the Jordan River baptism.

He rose from the water, walked to the shoreline and realized it was time for him to begin his own work. What was the best way to do that?

How could he change the noise in the world around him?

He smiled and took off across the countryside, bellowing, “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand!”

He borrowed the message of his cousin.

It had been a successful slogan–it was a great place to start.

At that fateful day at the baptism of Jesus, no one would ever have guessed that the Nazarene’s work would spread across the entire planet and that John would historically be viewed as a forerunner.

It was all made possible because Jesus had the sensitivity and wisdom to hear the voice and then make a choice before he went out to change the noise.

Jesonian… February 4th, 2017

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Don’t Be in a Hurry

Jesus of Nazareth spent his twenties hangin’ around his house, living off his parents.

Most good Jewish boys of that day were married and breeding more of the Children of Israel.

I think the reason he didn’t leave home until he was thirty is rather simple: Jesus couldn’t start his work until it was definite that he was the one starting it.

He had too many helpers.

His mother, Mary, wanted him to do little miracles to impress the Ladies’ Auxiliary. Joseph was disappointed that Jesus wasn’t thrilled with carpentry.

Cousin John the Baptist thought he should be the ‘Lamb of God who took away the sins of the world.’

Then there were the disciples. Most of them were waiting for Jesus to beat the crap out of the Romans. It was going to be HUGE and make Israel great again.

And the Jewish leaders thought Jesus would really look good dead, so they hired a mob to yell, “Crucify him.”

Everybody’s going to have an opinion on what you should do. So learn from Jesus’ life. Turn down the noise.

And by the way, don’t be in a hurry to play God.

Because even if you tell people you love them, folks are so angry, frustrated and religious … that they just might nail you.

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

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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.