Some messages sit me up straight and capture my thoughts and intentions better than I can do myself – sometimes I’m just too close.

Susan Peck posted this comment on my blog posts this morning:

” Jon, I have been following your blog for a year or so and have come to the conclusion that you are the type of person that Christ was hoping to reach, someone who was not perfect or expected perfection from others, but someone who could look beyond their own and others’ faults to see the good that comes from helping others. I am not a religious person. I call myself an atheist, but I believe that Christ was a great person with a message of how mankind should act toward one another.”

Susan said a lot in that message, and I appreciated every word of it. I have always thought that Jesus Christ was a great person, even though I am not a conventionally religious person either.

His message, largely forgotten by the wealthy and slick-haired political faithful who use his name, was that we should treat one another with mercy and compassion.

I am always telling complaining and unhappy readers that I am far from being perfect; I am no saint. I will make mistakes, lose my temper, struggle to listen, and often judge.

I also believe in looking past my flaws and understanding the good that comes to me from helping others.

I am a fervent follower of Beavis & Butthead. I relate to them.

Because I am stupid, I am free.

Because I never learned what I was supposed to think, I am free to think.

For me, organized religion signifies yet another series of institutions eager to tell me what to think, and I have never lasted long during my many religious experiments.

But Jesus Christ has always been an inspiration and a guide for me. I think we would like each other.

The people who get rich off of him while being cruel to their fellow men and women better pray that he is not, in fact, the Messiah, and is not going to return.

If he does, those TV Jesus marketers and giant monuments to the reach would be in flames in seconds. He was good at trashing the temples of the rich and cruel.

I would never compare myself to Jesus and have no idea whether he is a God or the son of one. It’s not my turf. But I don’t think he ever preached a single cause or idea that I did not love.

If the influential people who evoke him for money or power thought a bit about what he said and did, our world would be a better place overnight.

I have been liberated by the understanding that I don’t have to be good to do good. Mother Teresa taught me that. And you don’t have to be good for me to want to do some good for you. Jesus taught me that.

It doesn’t matter if I like you or if you like me. We can be bigger than that.

The other day I wrote about someone who accused me of killing dogs because I bought Zinnia from a breeder. I responded in my usual calm and reasoned way (just kidding). This upset Christian, who wrote this plea:

“I certainly support your views, your right to be triggered, your choice to deal with your trolls as you see fit (even if it’s not necessarily what I would do). I understand the whole interaction. What I don’t understand are the follow-up posts like this one–the sense of you of both justifying and celebrating your anger. Standing up for yourself is a virtue; anger is not. Why keep it alive in this way? Why try to spread it?”

I thought of Susan’s message as I read this, I doubt Christian thought my reply to this person signaled the turning of the cheek.

I told him I am no saint; I am not perfect.

I liked what I wrote,  and stick with it, but I never assume I am always right, or that I always say and do the right thing.

My writings are not Gospel; they are not holy; they reflect where I am at a given time.  My life transcends my many flaws and faults. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for what I believe.

I think of poor Thoreau, sitting at the edge of his pond, posting to Facebook, trying to explain his often offensive outbursts and condemnations to Christian or the many other critics on Facebook.

Walden would never have been written if Thoreau was reading his Facebook messages every day.

All I can do is be true to myself and my feelings, and if it makes people uncomfortable, they don’t have to read me or are free to go elsewhere.

But I will promise you that I will always be me.

Truth is a virtue for me, Christian, that’s about the best I can do, and the most help I can give you.

I never argue my beliefs or writings online, because I never really know if I am right or wrong. I can only be honest about how I feel. I’m a sort of take it or leave it, writer.  My blog is a monologue, not a dialogue, at least most of the time. And I told Christian I wouldn’t censor myself because it might make him squirmy.

It is because I have related so much to Jesus that I feel obliged to stand so stubbornly in my truth. This rationale does not make me Jesus; it just makes me appreciate him.

He preached that telling our truths was sacred, and he preached that anger in a good cause – as in chasing the money lenders from the Temple – can be quite holy, even God-like.

It’s not for me to say, really, what is holy and what isn’t, just for me to feel and be authentic about it.

And to spread the doctrine of being kind to people by word and deed.