Many Christians are like trees surviving in a greenhouse rather than thriving in the jungle.  They fear the sun and real outdoors, even though plants are healthier and happier in the sun. Transplanting from the greenhouse to the jungle is not easy. It requires two things:

1. Take initiative: one needs heavy doses of self-motivation,assuming personal responsibility, walking with Jesus rather than riding a pastor’s back as he walks with Jesus, and not expecting to be spoon fed every Sunday morning.

2. Learning crisis: time and a transitional season of hardship are normal.

Every improvement has a short period where productivity dips. When you begin to use newer, better software, you get less done while you are learning. Afterward, however, you are much more effective because 1. your tools are better and 2. you know more and have more skill. This transitional period is often called a “learning crisis”.

Leaving the comfort/lazy zone of being spoon-fed every Sunday morning causes a “learning crisis”. A learning crisis is an indication that things are good, but one must continue to take initiative for the learning crisis to lead to success, prosperity, and victory.

There are five lies about this learning crisis that keep Christians weak and dependent on the system of weekly Churchianity:

Lie 1. All hardship indicates bad choices: There is a false teaching floating around Christian circles about this. Christians believe that winter is a. not beneficial and b. can and should be avoided by obeying God. In the Health-Wealth community, this means always being healthy and having money and being happy every day. The Evangelical community does not apply this to money and health, but will tend to apply it to emotions. Almost all Christians who attend Sunday morning “spoon-feeding sessions” apply this anti-winter myth to the lie to the “greenhouse crutch” of Sunday morning. They claim that, if you have hardship, it indicates that you need more Churchianity. But they never mention that almost everyone has hardship, whether they attend Sunday morning or not. The truth is that winter makes tree roots grow deep. Half of a tree’s annual growth takes place during the winter. That growth is not always apparent because the tree has no leaves during the winter. But this growth makes the tree strong so the leaves can withstand the pleasant winds of summer.

Lie 2. We must protect ourselves from Christians who fail: This is the idea that Christians who make bad decisions should be “avoided” and “we should protect our children from them” rather than forgiving and embracing them. If we view ourselves as constantly weak and “always about to be the victim” then we will remain weak victims. The truth is, if we view ourselves as the solution to helping other people through informal Christian fellowship, then we will help others solve their problems.

Lie 3. A crutch does not cause weakness: If a child never tries to stand up and walk without a stroller, then he will never learn to walk. Leaving the spoon-feeding sessions of Sunday morning is like leaving the stroller to learn to walk. While “Churchianity” attendees understand that we can’t learn to ride a bike if we don’t drop the training wheels, they believe that this truth does not apply to Sunday morning. The truth remains, however, that weekly spoon-feeding is a crutch that keeps Christians weak. Then, Christians don’t take personal responsibility for not growing in Christ, but blame their lack of growth on “not getting enough spoon-feeding and entertainment” on Sunday morning. “Excessive help” is crippling. It is possible to “help” someone to death. This is, arguably, the approach of over-sympathetic voices in left-wing American politics.

Lie 4. If someone won’t take personal initiative, it is better to give him a crutch: This is the idea that it is best for mother to “help too much” and smother her children, rather than letting children benefit from the strength of failure. “If my kids won’t learn,” she thinks, “then I will wear myself out, develop a Messiah Complex, pretend to be an ‘Omnipresent Mom’, and bestow success upon my children. Then, when my children fail as ‘momma’s boy adults’, I will deny that my excessive ‘help’ caused this problem and encourage them shift the blame when they always run to me for sympathy.” While some Christians understand the problem of this line of parental thinking, others refuse to accept that they think this way or that it is a problem if they do. The proportions of how many parents do this change from culture to culture and city to city. But nearly all Sunday morning spoon-feeding attendees apply this lie to the expected conduct of “mother church”. These Churchianity attendees believe the lie that, “Since most people don’t take initiative, it is better to have them spoon-fed on Sunday morning and at central-pastor-planned Bible studies during the week. And, we will not view this ‘spoon-feeding’ in our eyes and we will keep making excuses for ourselves and for those who lack personal motivation for why ‘it’s not their fault’ and blame all Christian failures on lack of Sunday morning spoon-feeding participation.”

Lie 5. It is a great crime not to spoon feed someone who refuses to feed himself: The irony of the thinking of Lies 4 and 5 is that most of these Christians vote Republican, based on the idea that personal initiative and failure is good for the economy, but then they can’t apply the same principle to the “smothering mother church” of Sunday morning co-dependency. There are two truths about this. First, the greater crime is people don’t take personal responsibility; the lesser crime is to refuse to spoon feed a blame-shifter—if it is a crime at all. It is not better to allow someone to limp on when it would be better for him to experience the consequences of his greater crime of being a wanderer without personal responsibility. Second, it is more likely that someone will take responsibility if he does not receive too much help from “nannies” like the Sunday morning Christian spoon-fed faith & entertainment.

Personally, I left the Churchianity Sunday morning spoon-feeding dog and pony entertainment show because, in that environment, it was impossible to gain strength in Jesus while leaders were constantly filibustering my fellowship with the Lord. That situation enabled a hostile takeover of my schedule and my time was better spent studying the Bible, praying, sharing the gospel with people who have no exposure to Jesus, and encouraging the laundry list of Christians who are spoon-fed while their greatest challenges remain yet to be overcome. As I have prayed more, studied the Bible more, and engaged people more, my heart has grown bigger and bigger. All of the failures that were said to happen by leaving Sunday morning proved false. I have more informal Christian fellowship, which is much more meaningful for all of us, than the formal meetings offered, concerning both time and quality. Across the board, by every standard of measure, leaving “official, tax-registered, spoon-fed” Churchianity was the best decision I ever made for my growth in Jesus.

So, that brings us to the question: Why am I a “Churchless Christian”?

In one sense, “Churchless Christian” is a passive-aggressive label that power mongers like to slap on success stories like my own. It’s an attempt at character martyrdom. Something more literal happened to Lazarus when the Pharisees had a plot to kill him because they didn’t want proof that Jesus’ resurrection power did not require their religious bondage. Just the same, Jesus resurrected my walk with Him and I didn’t need the religious bondage of brittle, rigid, lifeless systems. So, they’ll call me a “Churchless Christian” in a retaliatory attempt to assassinate my character and reputation. What they don’t realize is that, to those of us who are more concerned with fruit than with useless activities, some are best known by their enemies. Calling me a “Churchless Christian” is a badge of honor in the eyes of the millions of Christians who have also suffered under their useless and heavy chains of weekly attendance. And, martyrs have eternal power from the grave over the establishments that assassinate them. I welcome the label.

In another sense, I am looking for a Christian fellowship that is dedicated to informal pursuit of Jesus. I’m looking for a group of Christians who reject factions and terms like “denominations”. I’m looking for a group of Christians who truly have the truth in their hears, that there is ONLY ONE Body of Christ and that “Church” is not something that can be “left” or “changed” or “attended”—you don’t “attend” your foot, do you? I’m looking for a group of Christians who don’t play power games, who don’t try to fashion leaverage over others. I’m looking for a group of Christians who take personal initiative in their devotional time and Christian service, who encourage the discouraged. I’m looking for a group of Christians whom, to this point, I have not yet found.

Most every Christian I meet can’t talk about Jesus without precious fellowship time parroting the dogma of Sunday morning spoon-feeding co-dependency sessions. They are so busy talking about the need to be dependent on others that they can’t their time with Jesus gains no depth in love, forgiveness, and confidence in Christ.

I love Christians who “attend”. Many of them are my friends. But I’ll never fit in to their organizational structures. One of the many pastor-friends, who battled with me for reasons that remains known only to him, finally made peace: We can smile at each other on the street. We’re less likely to have conflict there. And I’m okay with that. Good things happen in his weekly organization. Does he spoon-feed? Yeah. I’m okay with that too. It’s not that I want to interrupt other Christians who want to be spoon fed. I’d just like permission to eat how I choose.

So, whether in the slanderous or literal sense, I humbly accept the badge of honor and openly acknowledge myself as a “Churchless Christian”. Maybe I am too self-motivated. Maybe the Church isn’t ready to leave the greenhouse. But I am. Maybe my habits could create problems. If it’s all the same, I’m happy standing on the street, smiling as we pass each other. Maybe, one day, there will be no greenhouse. If that day ever comes, I’ll be in the jungle, waiting to help with the painful transition.

I’m waiting for a bride. Many people don’t understand because many people don’t understand “waiting”. People divorce almost as fast as they marry—especially in the Church—the same Church for which Martin Luther wrote 95 Theses, as did I.

“So, Jesse, do you have a girlfriend… or something?” …or something? I’d get that question a lot when I was younger, mostly from Christians. I tried my whole life to follow one of Jesus’ teachings from Matthew 19:12… Some are eunuchs by birth, some are made so by men, others choose not to marry for the sake of the Kingdom. Why would one want to become a eunuch, though? Why did Jesus teach about “becoming a eunuch” as if this would somehow help a kingdom? The answer might come from history.

Eunuchs are not as common in our modern world as they were in the days of kings and castles. They served in the presence of many kings. A eunuch advised Esther on how to become queen—and it worked. That eunuch knew how to play “the game” of power in the palace. Not everyone could read in the ancient world, but eunuchs often did. Philip preached the gospel, in Acts 8, to a eunuch who was an important official in Ethiopia and educated enough to be reading Isaiah.

It is not my intention to be crass, but the three topics of Jesus’ teaching, eunuchs, and asking if someone has a girlfriend relates to a very important topic in human history: penises—the reason that humanity survives.

By not having a penis, nobody understands what a eunuch wants. Jesus taught similar ideas, that lacking something can give you strength—to turn the other cheek, to carry something for the second mile, to give your tunic when someone demands your cloak. By not having something, a person gains great power. Power in governing a kingdom is no different.

Which kingdom do you serve? And what does each person want? These questions are addressed by my 96th Thesis: What do the Church, the Antichrist, and Jesus each want? We know what Jesus and the Antichrist want. But, right now, the Church seems to be voting “Undecided”.

It’s all about the power game. Like it or not, Jesus and Solomon were good at playing it and both taught on it. Most Christians don’t understand the power game. Most Christians like to think that they are “above” the power game—which is, itself, a way of playing the power game. Nonetheless, Jesus gave good advice concerning power games—to not only be as innocent as doves, but as cunning as serpents.

Here is the 96th Thesis: The clerical system is the red carpet rolled out, preparing the way for the Antichrist.

It is not my intent to be shocking, but it all makes sense with some basic reflection on the power game and the nature of the Antichrist. Why do you think the Antichrist will be so capable of deceiving so many? Maybe he won’t have a penis. Or maybe he will look like a pastor. Hitler had both the public image of a celibate and the public support of Germany’s Church, in addition to being an A-student. In pre-WWII Germany, Hitler had the perfect public image that America has of a pastor and, at least in Germany, he maintained that image through much of the war.

Jesus said that, in the last days, even the elect would be deceived, if possible, which means that so-called “Christians” who don’t know their Bibles all that well will loudly hail the Antichrist as “Jesus”. Statistically, this will likely many church-goers. But how could that be possible? How could a dominant portion of church-attenders hail the Antichrist as “Jesus”? That is my 96th Thesis: The clerical system is the red carpet rolled out, preparing the way for the Antichrist.

If you’ve read the prerequisite, 95 Theses of the Clerical System, then you already understand that the “job description” of a professional, trained, clerical, “pastor”, in the modern-traditional sense, is found nowhere in the Bible. And you’d also understand that, while there are many problems with the clerical system, the problem is mainly with the system, not the people.

Pastor’s love people and lead them tenderly, teaching with the gentleness of a shepherd. But, anyone can do that without seminary and without being employed by an elder board or congregation or denomination. The word “pastor” rightly appears in English translations of Ephesians 4:11, but that doesn’t give Christians the right to invent our own meaning, that a “true, valid pastor” leads a non-profit corporation with a tax ID number, an address, and a weekly Christian meeting that almost always conflicts with similar meetings of other local Christians and “pastors”.

I won’t rehash the entire 95 Theses of the Clerical System here, to respect those who already read it. It’s sufficient to reflect on the issues presented, that God did give “pastors” to the Church, but He did not mandate an extra-Biblical bureaucracy for Christian fellowship—and such a bureaucracy is exactly what the clerical system can’t not be.

It is neither fair nor Biblical to require that every Christian participate in large-scale meetings with rigid schedules. Taking initiative to have fellowship with a few other self-motivated Christians is far more beneficial. Organizations, no matter how small, may be corrupt. All are to some extent. God may direct some Christians to participate in corrupt organizations while He may not give such grace to other Christians.

Think about the power of “prayer in the wilderness”. Jesus prayed in the wilderness 40 days—did Jesus attend “church” during that time? Moses was in the wilderness 40 years, growing close to the Lord and learning to lead in the small things. Joseph was in am Egyptian dungeon 12 years based on false accusations. Many Christian leaders would condemn Joseph for being alone with Pottifer’s wife in the first place, saying the dungeon was God’s judgement on Joseph rather than the perfect “wilderness training” experience. Actually, time alone prepares us for the Lord’s work later in life. Paul spent 14 years in solitude to pray. Was Paul in error for not “attending somewhere” for this? The answer depends on who you ask.

The unbiblical demand that all Christians participate in organized, monitored, non-wilderness Churchianity every week, without exception, is persecution against preparation. This imperialistic institutionalism discriminates against obedient Christians who follow Jesus into the wilderness for seasons of quiet preparation. Of course, the devil does not want God’s people to have the benefit of growth in Christ that comes from those seasons of solitude. So, the devil orchestrates Churchianity to oppress and cast out the beneficial wilderness to keep the Church unprepared, weak, stumbling, and prevent us from having spiritual victory.

Following in the same footsteps, no one will mandate public participation in religion more than the Antichrist. Let’s consider some of the similarities between clergy and the Antichrist—which make the clerical job of “pastor” different from the “shepherd” that Paul refers to in Ephesians 4.

Both will make church-going and bureaucracy inseparable.

Both will accuse anyone and everyone of so-called “rebellion” if they don’t assign a physical address, such as a “church building”, to their “religious fellowship”.

Both will take meticulous “attendance” records, which the Bible never demands or even suggests for the Church to do.

Both will ordain and define valid participation in the Church.

Both will maintain a public image of perfection, which easily operates as a shroud for the many kinds of abuse in religious systems as have been known for for the past 1,500 years.

Both will demand that Christians engage in fellowship that can be tracked on paper, which, intentionally or not, allows easy access to lists with names of Christians to be collected in databases, and those lists taken years later for rounding-up Christians for the slaughter. The same was done in Germany with forcing Jews to register and identify themselves so, then the time came, they could all be rounded up quickly.

There are many other similarities between the clerical system and the greater work of the Antichrist. Most professional pastors are well-intended, honest, God-fearing, loving, wise, but overworked and under appreciated. Those good leaders are not the cause of problems in the Body of Christ. They aren’t even the cause of their own problems. The system, not the people trapped in it, is the problem.

Unintended by most clergy and most Christians, participation in the weekly “church” culture, signing the attendance book, and listening through the long monologue every Sunday morning is dangerous. It conditions people to do the same for the Antichrist and gives him a list of names and addresses, through which he be able to will kill God’s people more swiftly than Hitler killed 2 million Jews.

This poses a problem: If weekly Churchianity isn’t the Bible’s plan, then how should Christians have fellowship?

And that’s just the thing: The clerical system is “easy”. If you participate in it, you don’t have to think, just “obey the pastor”. The easy road is broad, many find it, just like sheep going to the slaughter. Few ever manage to escape from it and find the narrow path. The narrow path is safer because it’s not easy. Dogma is easy, especially when we don’t call it “dogma”.

Through the clerical system, we’re allowed to think that a sinful man is perfect, let him tell us who our Christian friends should be so no one can question us, blame all our problems on him, and lynch him when we “discover” that he’s a sinner who bleeds like the rest of us—and feeling better in the process. Through this system, we punch the card every week, think that attendance makes “obedient” to God, get mutual admiration from the mutual admiration society every Sunday morning, get spoon fed so-called “Biblical teaching” without having to work to understand the Bible, and any time we have a problem, just ask the pastor. See, that’s easy.

Compare it to cleaning the bathroom shower. I once asked my aunt how she cleans her shower. “Elbow grease,” she said. Some cleaning solution may be helpful to dissolve residue, allowing your sponge, brush, or scouring pad to last longer. But, “elbow grease” is the secret solution to the success of any cleaning product. “Elbow grease” makes for a clean bathroom.

And “elbow grease” is what any Christian needs to grow in Christ, without being dependent on the “clean it all” crutch of the clerical system.

That’s the most harmful thing about the clerical system—dependence causes dystrophy. It’s hard to learn to walk if you never leave the baby walker. Falling down helps us learn. And needing to strive makes us strong enough to not only “walk” with the Lord, but to “run” in the path of His commands—His commands, not someone else’s.

Just like elbow grease cleans the bathroom, personal initiative is the secret to strong growth in Christ. Not being dependent on the same weekly meeting, it takes constant effort to meet with other Christians. As for me, I talk with lots of Christians as often as I can. Not being spoon fed Bible lessons every week, it takes purpose and intent to study the Bible. So, I study the Bible a lot more than I did under the clerical system. Leaving clerical Churchianity created a “crisis” in my life, causing me to whip out the “elbow grease”, take responsibility, and my friendship with Jesus has never been better.

What “church” do I go to? Well, let me tell you about my church…

It’s really big. The architecture is fashionable. The ceiling is blue most days, dark at night. Sometimes it is lit up with billions of small lights for vigil. The chandelier moves from east to west throughout the day and splotches of white typically move across the blue ceiling. Other times the sprinkler system turns on, enough to water the garden and the animals in it. The service never stops. It has about 8 billion daily attenders. Though most of them aren’t Christian, many of them are “seeking”. My “church” has lots of orphans and widows to whom I can show love. There are lots of imperfect people, including the bossy Christians—God love ‘em—which helps us to practice patience. It has many people whom I can forgive and who forgive me all the more. There is no limit to object lessons from which I can learn more about our perfect pastor. And, the coolest thing about my “church” is that Jesus is my pastor—the best shepherd I ever had. In Jesus’ Church, shall not want.

My aunt was great woman. She knew how to clean and how to cook. She taught me about cleaning bathrooms with elbow grease. She loved horses almost as much as she loved children, but she loved no one as much as she loved Jesus.

I don’t want a woman just like my aunt. But I do want a woman who knows the power of “elbow grease”. I want a woman who studies Hebrew every morning, while I study the Bible in Greek. I want a woman who is beautiful because she chooses to be happy—someone to walk with in the cool of the morning, just like my grandmother and grandfather did every day. I want a women who understands that healthy eating agrees with a lifestyle of prayer and fasting. I want a woman who is respectful, not weak.

This is what I want in a woman. And it seems that this is asking for too much in the minds of many.

Mostly, I want a woman who doesn’t take the easy road in her walk with Christ—who doesn’t depend on an extra-Biblical, bureaucratic system for her growth in the Lord. I want a woman who thrives outside the clerical system and loves Jesus more than anything or anyone else, but who loves other people and isn’t trapped in the small world of faction-fear-based denominationalism.

I’m waiting for my bride. And, frankly speaking, Jesus is also waiting for His. I suppose, for now, He and I will just have to wait together. Is that so bad?

I’m not rehashing the entire Trayvon Martin case. But there are common lessons throughout his story that America shares as a whole, in the home, in foreign policy, and in political Churchianity.

Trayvon and George made very similar mistakes. The difference was that George had a .45 and was eleven years wiser. At any point, George Zimmerman or Trayvon Martin could have acted in self-preservation—early on, rather than waiting until the last possible second. The prosecution made the same mistake: seeking a “murder” verdict, only allowing the more feasible charge of “manslaughter”, again, at the last possible second before the jury deliberated.

If you see a suspicious person, for Heaven and Earth’s sake, don’t go near him!!

George could have stayed in his SUV. He could have chosen not to walk into someone else’s gated community. He could have chosen to run away when he saw Trayvon.

Trayvon could have stayed in the bushes.  · · · →

Pentagon Pentecostal vs Beijing Baptist (mp3)

Is unity too much to ask for? President Ma of Taiwan may think so. And I’m starting to agree with him. It’s not that I’m on the same page with Ma’s political policy. But when competing businesses hear their leaders talk about “unity”, certain terms start floating around—conflict of interest, rebellion, disloyalty, treason, heresy… just to name a few.

I grew up believing what I heard on Sunday morning: Love all people. We are united in Christ. Church is not the building, it’s the people inside. Don’t gossip, talk to people directly before talking about them with others. Don’t let money corrupt God’s good work…

But, when I talked to those “other” Christians across the street, well… The math didn’t add up anymore.

Why am I “rebellious” for rubbing shoulders with Christians who meet under different roofs? Why is it so important where I give my tithes and weekly donations if “money” isn’t as important as “God’s work”? If Charismatics are so evil, then shouldn’t the Baptists want to talk to them every week to persuade them to change?

Maybe the stuff I heard growing up was just a front that hides the money racket of denominationalism. Consider how much money there is in fighting alleged “heresy”. Most every denomination believes that most every other denomination has some sort of “false teaching”. The problem is, in all the denominations I’ve gotten to know, I have yet to see two opponents represent each other accurately.

Christians debate without actually knowing each other. It’s as if they have been divided on purpose—and, coincidentally, all the ink spilled in these uninformed, endless debates have proven quite profitable for Christian publishing houses… almost as profitable as the “War on Terror” has proven for FOX News. Isn’t it interesting that FOX owns Zondervan?

War is business. Turf wars in the inner city pivot on narcotic sales as much as segregated Sunday morning profits from weekly donations. It’s all made possible by “fear of the other guys [whom you should never talk to, just trust what your leaders say about them]“.

I still believe what I grew up hearing on Sunday morning. The Bible teaches the same thing—there is one Church, the universal Body, with one shepherd, Jesus. Gossip is foolish and usually gossipers are the most misinformed of all. God’s house tends to become a den of thieves and needs purging every so often. And for this, I’ve been accused of rebellion and heresy. And President Ma has made the same mistake.

His father’s dying wish was for a peaceful unification between Taiwan and China. But if President Ma had only grown up in American Churchianity, he would know that “unity” isn’t possible—it’s just something leaders say to make the people feel good as they continue to fight. Every pastor knows that.

War is a territorial business, whether its American Churchianity or Chinese Communism. Taiwan is a loyal customer of the United States military buying club. China, on the other hand, is in the Russian dealers gang. The “pastors” at “Pentagon Pentecostal” won’t be happy if Parishioner Ma makes too many Sunday morning visits to “Beijing Baptist”. They’ll likely denounce him as a “traitor” and a “heretic” as defined by the “canons” in the “Saint Washington Holy Potomac Diocese”.

“Unity” makes everyone feel good when we say it in speeches—but actually making it happen? Hah! What a silly idea. If Baptists and Pentecostals became friends or if Beijing and Taiwan united, it would hurt business.

President Ma shouldn’t take it personally. None of us should. It’s strictly business. Christians should easily understand. The Mafia does—they love to go to church. Drug dealers are some of the most loyal parishioners, the best dressed, well-mannered, and the biggest donors.

Why I Write (mp3)

In the wise words of WordPress founder, Matt Mullenweg, Code is poetry. While in full agreement, for me Poetry is code.™

Growing up, I was reputed for endless jabber. It’s not that I enjoyed the sound of my own voice, as some have speculated, but there were so many good things that needed to be said.

In my 30′s, with a plentiful combination of experience and ignorance, I’ve honed my many words. I haven’t run out of things to say. I’m just more picky about who deserves to listen. Writing helped train my discretion.

Nonetheless, creative ideas distract me to this day. And I’m just sure that 50% of them will work… And 50% is a good batting average.

After a childhood in the country, two years of home school, 13 years of acting through high school, four years of college in Chicago, thirteen years of learning to think differently from an old school Amway Diamond, another ten years of getting to know Christians in radically different denominations, living in Asia for five years, playing piano for over 20 years, re-inventing the Circle of Fifths, writing two plays, a novel, and a self-help book, blueprinting a third political party, writing my own “95 Theses” of our day, addressing how Jesus relates to metaphysics, podcasting for two years, dabbling in comics and digital art, designing clothes, managing more than 5 different blogs, drafting a 100 page doctrinal statement, writing 300 articles, editing academic publications, and being syndicated on two different news sites… I decided I wanted to branch out.

I wanted to create my own CMS. As a writer I know my needs—something programmers don’t know, as incredibly brilliant as programmers are. Though I was code savvy in high school, PHP defeated me. I only have one life to live and I’m still praying for an entrepreneurial programmer to cross my path.

I have a particular taste in clothing—particularly that I want good clothes, not just some fancy brand with the same old routine of someone else telling us all how to dress. The problem: Manufacturers don’t know how to return phone calls.

I could invent new clothes with a “thread injector” (or sewing machine as mom always called it). I could learn Ajax and Javascript if I had the time. I could put in the hundreds of hours necessary to make my own graphic novels. The problem is that I don’t have enough time to learn it all. I have solid goals in my life and these things are secondary.

One of my goals is to eliminate the two-party system in American politics. Another goal is to compose symphonies in my retirement years—which is why I reinvented the Circle of Fifths. And I may dabble more in art, programming, and clothing in the future, after I get through all that.

But what will I do until then?

I am a writer. Poetry is my code. Of all the languages to master, English is something I have more practice with than most people in five lifetimes. Ask anyone who knew me—I talked that much. And my childhood reputation of being too talkative paid off.

Rather than coding websites or outlining clothes and action scenes, I shall code and outline ideas. The world needs good ideas, especially today. My best skill is and has always been the art of putting English words together.

Three years ago, I realized that I am a writer. But the idea didn’t settle in until I considered my current project, The End: A Bible Translation of the Book of Revelation. As much as I’d like to cooperate with artists and programmers and clothing designers, the Lord wants me to cooperate with Him.

Wise people have good ideas that need to be published. I can help them express those ideas in such a way that readers will enjoy. Some of those people are professors. My favorite client is God. You see, I’m translating for Him.

That’s what Bible translation is: I’m the editor, God is the Author. I don’t say this with a big head, but a humbled heart. Revelation is a hard book to understand. It has some of the most profound text in the Scripture and some of the most encouraging, yet, from our misunderstanding, it has become a source of unnecessary controversy. I’ve read it over a hundred times and I studied Greek in college. If anyone can help code Jesus’ Revelation into English, I can.

So, even with all the other projects I’d love to pursue, I’ll enjoy other people’s art from a distance. Maybe I’ll write about it. Maybe one day I’ll have the privilege of being one of their clients. But “write” now, my main client is God and I need to write for Him. By following His concept-design, we’re going to make the world a better place, one letter at a time.

Big Circle (mp3)

And here I thought my favorite color was blue…

It started three years ago in a dream. I had just jumped out of thin air to find myself in a dreary, run down part of town. What seemed like an abandoned, empty parking lot lay in front of me, filled with weeds and potholes, lined with yellow paint. Old, congested apartment buildings stood nearby. Decaying cement and spattered thickets dressed the landscape. The day sky was overcast.

For some reason, I couldn’t walk into the “parking lot” area in front of me.

Almost instantly, it began to rain acid. From all around, people ran into an old, nearby building for shelter. Not being afraid, I stepped out into the acid rain and cried to the Lord, “Shine on us! You love us! Shine on us! SHINE ON US!” I kept repeating my cry until tears filled my eyes.

At last, I pointed somewhere in the sky and shouted, “Shine on us!” and the clouds in that spot broke open and the sun began to show. I pointed to another spot, then another. The rain stopped and sunlight began to pierce the darkness throughout the sky.

Finally, a “second sun” appeared behind one of the cloud breaks—ten times brighter than our sun and whiter than the moon. Then I woke up.

It was a dream too vivid to ignore and too impossible to forget. But what did it mean?

About six months later, I found myself in Hong Kong, walking along the river near Sha Tin. I came to a particular bridge when the Lord spoke softly in my head, “You can cross this bridge.”

“I know I ‘can’ cross this bridge,” I responded in my head. “I ‘can’ also keep walking straight.”

“…or,” the soft voice continued, “you ‘can’ cross this bridge.”

Rather than elaborating on the powerful, inviting nature of possibility, I’ll just say that I crossed the bridge. A few steps later I froze. It looked exactly like my dream!

The river had narrowed to one small stream in a vast, cement bed, filled with cracks and weeds, lined with a yellow railing. The surrounding trees and buildings, the clouds in the sky—I dreamed about this place not even knowing the place was real.

No wonder I couldn’t walk into the “parking lot”. I only saw 2-D in my dream. It wasn’t a parking lot at all. It was a dry river bed and I had just crossed it.

Three years later I found myself back in Hong Kong. It was a Saturday and the soft voice of the Lord said, “Read Joshua 1:11 and remember.” I knew of this verse, but not all the details. Interestingly, it doesn’t say, “Jordan River,” but, “this Jordan.”

“…Prepare provisions for yourselves, for within three days you are to cross this Jordan, to go in to possess the land which the Lord your God is giving you, to possess it.” Joshua 1:11b, NASB 1995

Three days… That put this on Tuesday. Sunday and Monday were thrilling, but for another story.

Tuesday night, after finishing my main errands in Hong Kong, with a verse to obey, and little else to do, I saddled my pack, crossed a road named Jordan, and headed north toward the place in my dream. At the Starbucks on Jordan Road, I bought a mug to commemorate the event, an orange mug with a rounded bottom, and a big circle on the side, inside the circular handle. It matched my other Hong Kong Starbucks mug at home.

Hong Kong’s MTR (subway rail) had a stop not far from the place of my “river dream” at Tai Wai—at least that’s where I thought it was. Not sure where to go, and not recognizing the place in the evening sky, I wandered toward the river, feeling mostly lost. In the dark, I came to a bridge and the soft voice whispered, “You can cross this bridge.”

“Yeah, I know I can,” I replied, “but I have no idea where I am, and I don’t want to stray too far from…” There it was, the same bridge from three years ago. Since then, I’ve called it the “Can” Bridge—different from Cambridge.

Still not recognizing much on my path in the dark, I wandered until things became familiar. At a couple points I stopped and prayed, rather than walking and praying as I had been. I knew my way to the MTR station by now, but, having gotten lost, I wondered: Was this the same MTR station? Indeed it was. And, though I had been lost, I was back where I started.

On the ride home, I pulled out a map to see where I had walked. Lo, I had walked in a big circle, with a nifty dash top left—made by dots connecting a line between the two places I paused to pray. In the middle of the circle was the name of the city, same as the MTR station: Tai Wai.

“What does ‘Tai Wai’ mean?” I thought to myself. “Tai” means “big”, as everyone knows after a month in Asia. Fueled by curiosity, and empowered by a Chinese dictionary, I discovered that “Wai” means “circle”… “Big Circle”…

That night, I accidentally walked a big circle around “Big Circle”.

But that’s not where the story gets interesting. So far, I had many coincidences, but no explanation. The next day I went back into Tai Wai to understand more about this circular circle, before having dinner with a friend in the evening.

Five hours I walked and saw what there was to see in this land I dreamed about. It was almost as Bruce Wilkinson describes in The Dream Giver when he first finds his “big dream”. It was like Israel entering the Promised Land—not instant wealth, but plenty of possibility, I suppose. The streets were lined with local merchants and small shopping centers. The outskirts towered with family homes and several schools. The place lay in a bowl within in the hills, near the very center of Hong Kong.

After my first hour of exploration, I made my way back to the MTR station. “Someone will give you a flier with a message for you,” the Lord whispered in my head a few days earlier. “Make sure you take it so you can know.” No sooner had I remembered this than I passed Tai Wai station and a lady handed me a flier, which I didn’t want. But, maybe it was a message of sorts. Maybe it could explain what all was happening. I took it, read the cover, and chuckled.

“Walking Man 3:16″ it read across the top with loud colors. The background was orange. The back side had a sidewalk much like the river I had walked along, and the sky had been filled-in with a shining orange design. Orange… Hmm…

The only thing that seemed to stand out that day was the color orange. It was everywhere! I took a few pictures to illustrate. It  was strange indeed.

I grabbed a snack at a McDonald’s where a mother sat down with two children, both wearing orange. After my snack, I enjoyed some pages of Malcolm Gladwell’s David and Golliath—a book with letters that were orange, marking my place with a receipt from two months back that happened to be orange, which I carried in my back back that I recently bought on sale, the last one in stock, which happened to be orange, and my computer case I got a year ago, the only one that fit, with an inside liner that just so happened to be orange.

The bathroom doors happened to be orange. The outside of a house at the T section of a large street was painted orange. The wall of a small shop had a picture of a giant orange. Scarves, coats, and gadgets that sat on shelves typically had a single item shining bright orange.

Shop owners seemed to favor sales stickers that were orange. One watch among the normal watches had a face that was orange. One pair of glasses sat in the front row of a display and its frame was orange. Unlike other parts of Hong Kong, some bricks in this sidewalk were orange. Flair on buildings were occasionally orange. LED tickers, rather than the usual red or some other color, were orange. Often, someone would walk in front of me with a coat, bag, or hat that was orange—a real head scratcher.

As if there wasn’t already enough “orange” in my day, the Lord’s voice, a little less soft, said, “Proceed up that street, stop in front of the McDonald’s and wait. Your friend will call you soon to meet you in the evening.” Seeing many more things along the way that were orange, I made my way to the McDonald’s where I waited and praised the Lord for inventing the color orange. After two minutes of orange praises, my phone rang.

“Jesse, sorry I’ve been so busy today.”

“That’s okay. My day has been interesting enough. You’re call is right on time.”

“See you in an hour,” he said as we finished our call. So, I continued walking.

A candy wrapper lay on my path—it was solid orange. On the sidewalk sat a bicycle, painted orange. On a table sat a tipped over paper cup that was orange. A sign with orange Chinese letters, read in English, “Shine Baptist Church”… “Shine”. That’s what I prayed in my dream.

I soon met up with my friend and the orangeness only continued. A lady passed an orange bench, wearing a coat that was orange. Supermarkets were selling oranges at their entrances. We passed a television showing a music video that was mainly orange, and displayed the word “shine”. All the restaurants were backed up. We came to a tunnel that was orange, took it as a direction from God, went down the tunnel, and found a restaurant with open seats. The sugar packets were red and yellow, which, combined, make orange.

I took a taxi with two men, coming home from the airport, each had a suitcase that was orange, one of them a coat that was orange, as were the souls of his shoes. And the inside of the phone that I used to take all these pictures has a frame that is not black, but orange.

In memory of my orange visit to Hong Kong and the big circle, which I accidentally walked around a small city named Big Circle, I designed a shape resembling my random walk, printed it on paper colored orange, and made my own Starbucks tumbler. I figure this might help me reflect and consider what to make of this orange, big circle.

Four years ago, the color was green. It started when a friend gave me an expensive designer helmet. “Do you like green?” he asked.

“Not especially,” I replied. “I prefer blue.”

Perhaps he misunderstood.

“Okay! Here’s a green helmet from my job. My boss gave it to me to give away.”

Not long after, on my first visit to Hong Kong, I came across a green watch in a side-street shop. “Does it automatically track Daylight Saving Time?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “But you can push this button to change it yourself. Just push the button.”

“Just push the button!?” I thought. Why can’t the watch update Daylight Saving Time for me? But… he was right. I was way too picky.

“You sold me,” I said. “Because you convinced me to change my thinking, I’ll come back in six months and buy that watch.”

Sure enough, after six months, I went to buy the green watch. I loved it so much I emailed my friend about it. He ordered the same watch online and, two years later, we met up in Hong Kong, both wearing the same green watches.

We walked to a particular place on a river, tucked away in the heart of Hong Kong, that I had seen in a dream. The shoes I wore had green insoles. In my apartment, today, sits a suitcase lined with green, given by another friend, on my green floor, with two green chairs.

What does it all mean? Maybe green was the color two years ago and orange is the color now. Maybe God is reminding me of my Irish roots. The Irish flag is green, white, and, of course, orange. I’m still not sure what to make of it, if I’m supposed to make anything of it at all. But it sure has my head spinning in a “big circle”.

As I sorted photos from the recent Hong Kong “orange-venture”, only showing about 10% of the orange things I encountered, I stumbled across a photo from a year ago.

My boss had given me a small orange, which I found to be naturally beautiful. I held it in my hand, grabbed a picture with my orange-inside phone, filtered out the other colors, and posted it on Instagram and 500px.

The next day I showed the picture to my boss as an appreciation for the orange. “Why take a picture of it?” he chuckled. “It’s just an orange.”

One more photo at 500px.com

The Conservartist (mp3)

I was watching Bob Mankoff, from the New Yorker, as he publicly dissected humor. He sifts through about a thousand comics each week to decide which 17 “idea drawings” will appear in the famous New York publication.

As Bob explains, a zoo with a tiger cage that has no tiger is a bad zoo, though it’s certainly “politically correct”. But who wants a politically correct zoo? Like the zoo, humor can’t work with empty tiger cages. The best smiles have teeth and you can’t laugh without both the teeth and the smile. Once you offend no one, you bore everyone. If you entertain most people, you’ll offend most of the rest.

When Rush Limbaugh said something controversial, his sponsors pulled their ads—but it was the sponsors, not Rush, who lost money. Marketing “experts” didn’t seem to get it: Controversy was always the secret to Limbaugh’s success. People don’t pay to see tiger cages without tigers.

With humor, 75% reader satisfaction is the best Bob hopes for. That’s a bit higher than baseball, where hitting the ball 50% of the time is pure perfection. I’m still waiting for academics to connect the jobless graduate rate to their scoring and grading. If schools actually helped people learn, they would gear their curriculum so that 60% would be the line of success rather than the line of failure. One must fail a lot before one can learn. American society has become so obsessed with “success” that they undervalued the “failures” that got them there.

Toward the end of his talk, Bob said something that got me thinking. He commented that, “…in general, people who enjoy more nonsense, enjoy more abstract art, and tend to Liberal, less Conservative, that type of stuff…” He’s correct. But why is that so? Why don’t more Conservatives enjoy more abstract art?

The answer might be connected to gravity…

There are certain rules that govern our universe. Gravity is one of them. If you’re up on any trends in science, you may have heard about the “plasma cosmology” as opposed to the gravity-driven Big Bang. While the establishment never likes to hear the truth, some things don’t change. Even in a plasma-based universe, “what goes up must come down.”

There are other laws in our universe… A man reaps what he sows. If you forgive, you’ll be forgiven. Irish burn their corn fields when invaded. Native Americans wouldn’t work for slave masters; but Native Africans sold their own tribesmen into slavery. Women and men don’t understand each other. Dogs love people, no matter how poorly we treat them. Some jerk always wants to exterminate Israel. People tend to be patriotic toward whatever culture they grew up in—whether nations or religions. Every successful person got lucky and every failure got unlucky—some deserve it, some don’t—but the most successful people “create” their own luck by not giving up—and the biggest failures “created” their own bad luck. Few losers think that the winner deserved to win; but every winner has a different opinion of why he won. And there are many more laws that govern our existence, among them, that Humans are inclined toward Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

Right now, the United States are having some big debates about the “laws” that governed their origin. Some people think that the Constitution reflected “timeless wisdom” and this fueled overall national prosperity. Others think the nation “got lucky” and the Constitution should be changed or abolished.

…and that comes back to what Bob said, that Liberals are more inclined to enjoy abstract art.

Conservatives seem to me as a contradiction. Nothing is as creative and abstract as a prospering economy. Einstein said that, “imagination is more important than knowledge.” Why don’t Conservatives—who value principles of opportunity—value the creativity that allows invention and progress? And why do Liberals—who value the useful role of abstract imagination—speak out against a Constitution that gives them free speech? Why are so many Darwinists in favor of homosexuality and abortion, when homosexuality and abortion are anything but Darwinian? Why don’t Conservative Christians successfully train their kids to be Conservative and Christian? Why do Christians, including pastors themselves, continue to pour time and money and emotional affection into a system of “pastor-led Churchianity”, which is demonstrated nowhere in the Bibles that they hail, and has made no difference whatsoever in terms of divorce, depression, suicide, hypocrisy, bigotry, and an endless laundry list of other grievances?

There are many things that don’t make sense.

Why do so many people contradict themselves, from all sides of every debate?

This isn’t the first time these questions have crossed my mind. And my mind is probably not the first mind that these questions have crossed.

Conservatives and Liberals alike seem to be engaging in their own “big bang” of self-destruction. When a stock trader on Wall Street self-destructs, they call it “blowing up”.

Could there be a connection between Conservative, Christian parents with homosexual children and the fact that Conservatives don’t enjoy abstract art as much as Liberals do? I’m not merely referring to the out-dated superstition that, “art is gay,” and the predictable reaction of artistic Christians, “Then God must have made me gay because I like art!” I’m talking about a problem with modern Conservatives in general…

Bob got my head spinning. And, now, I’m starting to think that, while the Constitution and the Bible reflect different forms of timeless wisdom, most Conservatives and most Christians don’t respect the Bible or the Constitution for their brilliance. Most parents don’t teach their children much about the Constitution at all—to which Ronald Reagan said in his last national address, “…call them out on it.” Conservative Christians respect the Bible because their parents told them to, even though their parents didn’t tell them why. All evidence hath shewn, homosexual Christians became homosexual because their parents told them not to, but nobody in the family knew why.

Conservative Christians seem to fear risk as much as an MBA. To them, 50% is failure instead of success. So, unlike a bird who falls 90% of the way to the ground when he flies the nest, both Christians and academicians punish their young at 50%—before anyone has a chance to actually learn. And the company leader, who succeeds the company founder, can’t help the company succeed.

Conservatism is wise, but few people know why… probably because Conservatives don’t care to understand why they do what they do, just as they don’t care to understand art.

Too many parents don’t care to understand their children unless their children understand them first. But sons weren’t created so that they could understand their fathers. God created fathers so that they could understand their sons—macho and brilliant alike—and help their sons understand their nation, the Bible, how to tie shoes, how to be healthy, how to draw pictures, and a whole lot of other things.

Doing the right think for the wrong reason—or for no reason at all—isn’t reasonable. So, artists abandon dogma, thinking that they abandon so-called “reason”. The result: America today… divided, angry, fatherless…

I’m a proud, artistic, Bible believing Conservative. I don’t like organized religion; but I love God. I don’t like Democrats or Republicrats; but I love people. I think outside the box in a plasma universe and I’m not into “big bangs”, though I love playing with plasma… or “playing with fire” as they call it in Big Rapids. I see the artistic connection between a jellyfish and a galaxy; and I also see their scientific connection: cellular plasma, ionic plasma. Imagination is the basis of science. The Creator God had wisdom behind the laws He created for His artistic “plasmaverse”.

Maybe there’s something we all can see in that.

I have no guess how you’ll take this article. Maybe you’re among the 75% who enjoyed my abstract, logical spiral. Or, maybe you’re among the 25% who think it’s just a bad joke from a twisted mind.