Comments

• 

  Rhys Miller November 24, 2008 at 11:58pm

  Matt, thanks for the note. Best wishes for your trip! Really, best wishes! Find out if that small brewery is still operating in Takanini. It used to make some good ales that went with fresh bread and smoked salmon.
  Cheers,
  Rhys
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  Allan & Selina Woodhouse November 24, 2008 at 5:43pm

  Hi Matt ! Is that Kym as in Kym Koloni (maiden name Berry) ? If it is could you please pass on our love and Gods' best to her from us ?
  Allan & Selina Woodhouse
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  Paddy Heron November 4, 2008 at 1:25am

  Matt,
  
  Gen 3:15 was the first prophecy of the coming Messiah who would "crush the head" of the serpent. Ever since then the Devil has been trying to thwart the fulfilment of prophecy by wiping out the blood-line of the Messiah throughout the OT.
  As we know, he failed. But Satan and his princes also knew of the prophecies concerning the re-gathering of the Jewish nation to Palestine. Hence Satan again tries to break this prophecy, thus averting his doom, by wiping out all Jews so they cannot return. The called it the Final Solution.
  But God alwys seems to be one step ahead in this cosmic chess game, thankfully.
  
  Paddy
• 

  Paddy Heron October 31, 2008 at 10:05am

  Matt,
  
  Thanks. A book is en route.
  
  God bless,
  
  Paddy
• 

  Paddy Heron October 31, 2008 at 2:54am

  Matt,
  Send me your address and I'll post you a copy of my book which you can read on the plane to NZ. I have found some interesting things in Daniel that you might be able to help me with. But you would need to understand where I am coming from first with regard to the Nephilim and their soon return.
  Paddy
• 

  J. David Pearce July 10, 2008 at 3:17pm

  Hey Matt, I thought your name was familar.
  Dave and I are close friends. We spent much of our in residence and interum time at the same campuses and rooms.
  Dave married one of our corps sisters, Melissa Bell. They live in Colorado and attend way fellowships.
  Last we spoke, he was traviling to russia for work for 6 months at a time. I am posting two pictures of Dave taken when we were Mountain Biking in the BLM.
• 

  Lonnell Johnson July 9, 2008 at 6:38pm

  Matt,
  
  Once more, just one more time, as the old folk used to say, "onct more and again"--you nailed it. . . Bullseye. . . on the money. . . hit the mark.You have this uncanny ability to distill the essence of a lengthy and weighty matter and touch the heart with your wit and wisdom and wonderful insight. I loved your summary comments at the beginning of your discussion, and the Mary Poppins analogy is downright delightful in its application. I must say you have a way with words. . . by the way, that's the title of a wonderful song by Babbie Mason, whose lyrics I have quoted before, especially "Trust His Heart" which I shared in my tribute to Elizabeth (Beth) Ricks Lowder. As I read your comments, I am continually nodding my head in agreement, as I proclaim over and over, "I see what you're saying."
  
  The whole issue of "sight" I understood in a new way, as I re-read and reflected once again on the blues, as expressed in "Quiet as it's kept. . ." I thought of the lines "I wonder why so many good blues singers be blind. . . " As I mention in the multi-media presentation I put together as part of my African American Literature class, the blues is generally an expression of some kind of "loss": if you lose your money, you got the blues; if you lose your honey, you got the blues. If you lose your house or your job, you got the blues. . . " It then stands to reason that if you lose your sight, you show nuff got the blues. . . as is the case with the blind blues singers I listed in the poem. Now I see just how much I have personalized my fascination with the blues. Note the blues pieces in the section of Stone upon Stone, "In the Vernacular," especially "No Mo Blues" in which I refer to myself as a former "bigtime blues singer in the union for singers of the blues." I go on to remark "But I turnt in my union card./Ain't gon pay no mo union dues." The idea is that since I met my "Pretty Baby" (Precious Jesus), "I ain't gon sing the blues no mo!" By the way, I recite the poem on my webpage, and Dan Haas sings an original musical version of the blues piece. Take a listen, if you haven't already.
  
  The comment that you made that "Jesus blesses the blues" started me to thinking like my Daddy, "nodding [my] head in agreement and smiling or simply breathing a sigh,
  like a tacit Amen or inner response that seemed to say,
  “You got that right.” In "Ain't No Harm to Moan" I remind you, "Don't forget, even Jesus had his Gethsemane." If that ain't the blues personified and magnified, I don't know what is.
  
  When I first completed the poem I offered it up to God, who like my Daddy, show nuff loves Him some blues. Talk about somebody who truly knows what lost love is all about. . .
  
  Like the Lady say,
  You don’t know what love is
  Until you’ve learned the meaning of the blues
  Until you’ve loved a love you’ve had to lose
  You don’t know what love is
  
  Man, I surely appreciate your comments about the poem and the emotions it evoked. I was touched by your comments about my father and your having wished you could have met him. I paid tribute to my father in "plainsong" which I recited at his funeral. My father did not complete high school, and I'm almost certain that he never heard of Langston Hughes, but I think he would have really appreciated my presentation on the blues, in which I recited "The Weary Blues" along with other comments from the renowned "Poet Laureate of the Harlem Renaissance." Thanks for the U-tube clip. I wish I could send you the CD of my presentation. Once more you had the right poet with the right words at the right-on time.
  
  Believe me, I am going to talk about you and your father and the poem "Legacies" but you keep stirring me up with your pithy remarks and intellectually stimulating comments. By the way, I keep getting several email messages that you have left a comment on my Way Corps site, but usually there is only one message, as was the case with this last message. Do you know what's going on?
  
  The day has come and gone, and so must I draw this discussion to a close.
  
  Truly you are a blessing.
  
  More later, but that's it for now.
  
  Your brother and friend,
  
  
  Lonnell
• 

  Lonnell Johnson July 7, 2008 at 5:57pm

  Matt,
  
  Man, Oh, man, Matt, my man, my main man, Matt,
  
  How do I begin to express my gratitude to God for the richness of the fellowship we enjoy, to experience the sublime communion of brothers joined together in Word of God. Thank you first of all for the designation you opened your last comments with--"Christ's Poet." I am humbled and deeply touched by your choice of words.
  
  You then proceeded to share with me just how much poem "Restoration Rivers" ministered to you as part of the restorative process God had initiated for you in light of one of the situations you were going through. It is particularly noteworthy that you used the terms "affirmation" and "confirmation" in your comments. A couple of days ago, I mentioned the discussion of "The Folded Napkin" to one of my good friends, a deacon at our church, and I recall that I commented on the commentary which appeared as a blog on Nancy Chappell's Way Corps page. So I copied the article and my comments and sent them to my friend. Later I re-read the entry and looked at the other comments. If I am not mistaken, I believe that you responded to my comments and my subsequent response initiated the on-going dialogue that we enjoy so much.
  
  I recall the comments are preparing meals and our mutual love for fine dining and meals which fish is the main entree. We shared regarding various kinds of fish and other menu items, as we learned that we had so much in common, aside from our mutual regard for the Word of Truth.
  
  I also recall my mentioning something about "affirmation" and "confirmation", terms which seem to have gone full circle as we are once again speaking of these two concepts and their application to our lives at two different points. I am still intrigued by the ceramic birds that just appeared on the lampshade and later finding out their names. I rejoiced as I recalled the beginning of our rather recently found friendship, recognizing that the best is always yet to come. As the Poet proclaims, "The best lines are yet to be sung."
  
  You then concluded your comments with a work from another poet with whom I am familiar. For a number of years following the time when I first came to Otterbein College in 1994, I taught a class entitled the Dialogue of Men and Women, a composition and literature course in which we read and discussed literary works relative to male/female relations in the context of love and marriage. One of the videos that I showed to the class was an exchange of points of view regarding men and women and their ability to communicate with one another between Deborah Tannen and Robert Bly, who concludes the dialogue with a musical/poetic recitation of one of his magnificent pieces, which may have been an Urdu composition. I don't remember for sure, but I do recall one the statements that Bly made: "It's easier to go through suffering if you have a name for it." I immediately thought of the line, "And that's why they call it the blues." I'll have to send you a copy of a poem written in reflection of a visit my parents made to see me when I lived in Washington,DC. It comments on my father's enjoyment of the blues and my appreciation for this art form which came much later in life for me. I recited the poem on one of my radio broadcasts at the time on a show called Poetry and Praise, and this particular show I entitled "Red, White and a Taste of the Blues." I'll close with that, and I'll pick up next time with comments about your father and the poem "Legacies."
  
  For now here's something to think about:
  
  “Quiet as it’s kept. . .”
  
  Quiet as it’s kept, Daddy loved the blues.
  I remember the time back in the day when Dad could still drive,
  and drive he did most of the way, not the whole way, but divided
  in half,
  stopping to spend the night in a motel in Pennsylvania
  somewhere about halfway between Gary, Indiana and DC
  “Madear and Daddy” drove down to visit me one weekend over the 4th and we went down to festivities off Constitution Avenue
  in that “grassy as if it wanted wear” area near the Smithsonian.
  Strolling like nomads in and out of blue and white striped tents,
  seeking relief from the relentless blazing summer sun,
  we sampled the chicken and rib tips and fresh squeezed lemonade
  and finished off the feasting with a taste of the blues:
  a folk festival of sorts, featuring local blues singers
  and a quartet from Dad’s home state of Arkansas.
  We followed the crowd into this one wide tan canvas expanse,
  flaps raised and rolled up, wrapped all around the sides,
  like a revival tent without the sawdust.
  On the plywood stage covered with carpet remnants
  in a rickety wooden folding chair sat old Flora.
  She wasn’t blind but thick wire-rimmed glasses
  magnified her dark orbs that closed like doll’s eyes
  when she reared back her head and hollered.
  Flora was good, but she wasn’t quite like Robert,
  old Blind Robert that sang down in front of the Riggs Bank.
  He was blind for sure(think he was born that way),
  strumming and humming, and sliding that metal bar to up and down the guitar strings
  to lure folk into the tent to taste that thick authentic down home sound.
  Blind Robert show could sing. . . .
  Wonder why so many good blues singers be blind?
  Brother Ray and Stevie. . . Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind Willie McTell,
  Blind Willie Johnson, Blind Blake n’nem;
  All the Blind Boys, from Mississippi and Alabama,
  All yall, I know yall see what it takes to show nuff sing the blues.
  Of course, my Daddy got the same name as a famous blues singer,
  Lonnie Johnson. I wonder what all that means, if anything.
  While the brothers from Arkansas was playing and singing,
  I’d glance over and catch Daddy nodding his head in agreement
  or see him smiling or simply breathing a sigh,
  like a tacit Amen or inner response that seemed to say,
  “You got that right.”
  We stood and watched and listened a good while
  before we left and continued to stroll from tent to tent.
  After a while, Daddy wanted to go back just one more time.
  My Daddy show did love him some blues that time in DC.
  Some say the blues is an acquired taste that you appreciate as you age.
  As I have mellowed in the autumn of the years, I have come to enjoy the blues too.
  I just wish I could have shared this newfound fondness for blueness
  with my father back in the day, in my younger boppin doowop days,
  but I just couldn’t get into them down in the alley sad songs back then.
  I just didn’t know why the blues always be so sad.
  What did I know? What did I know?
  Now I know it takes a whole lot of living and
  a lot more loving and losing to appreciate the blues.
  Like the Lady say,
  You don’t know what love is
  Until you’ve learned the meaning of the blues
  Until you’ve loved a love you’ve had to lose
  You don’t know what love is
  Now I know just what Daddy meant when he nodded his head
  and sighed and wanted to go back just one more time.
  Quiet as it’s kept, my Daddy loved him some blues.
  
  Lonnell E. Johnson 4-22-05

  Coming Soon
• 

  Lonnell Johnson July 6, 2008 at 12:47pm

  Matt,
  
  By the way, I also wanted to comment on your father and his trip abroad. What an amazing legacy. I shall comment regarding this and send you a copy of one of my poems called "Legacies" written on Father's Day a few years ago.
  
  So much to say, so little time.
  
  Lonnell
• 

  Lonnell Johnson July 6, 2008 at 12:41pm

  Matt, My Soul Brother and More,
  
  Once again I rejoice as I read your words that so powerfully admonish and exhort and comfort, even as I am strengthened to run on just a little while longer. Thanks so much for your comments regarding "affirmation and confirmation." I became aware of that particular phrase when Brenda and I spent a glorious couple of days at a Bread and Breakfast nestled in the mountains of Virginia a couple of years ago when we visited Dale Sides on the way to see our daughter, Angela, in Baltimore at the time. The couple who own the Bed and Breakfast, have set it aside as a kind of retreat center for pastors. It is absolutely beautiful, and we have a wonderfully healing time of restoration, just as the name Restoration Rivers indicates. I was so moved by time that we spent there that I wrote a poem which I will attach at the end.
  
  I was reading on a wicker couch in one of the lovely sitting areas, and I was overcome by the glorious presence of the Lord, as my the eyes of my understanding were being flooded with light and my soul was being overwhelmed. . . Like Jeremiah, I could not stay, I could not stay. When I looked up from where I was reclining and pulled myself together, I noticed two ceramic birds perched on the lampshade at the end of the couch. I was reading a book that my brother-in-law, Apostle Eric Warren, had written called "Anointed for Miracles" which is study based on a passage from Isaiah. I sensed that the two birds represented the establishing of the Word that I had just written.
  
  Later our hostess, Shari Eckstein, returned and told me that someone had given her the birds which she really didn't care for, but she "stuck them" on the lampshade to get them out of the way. She then told me that she called them "Affirmation and Confirmation." I had pulled myself together in order to tell her what had happened as I was reading, and then I "lost it" again, as I began to weep once more. So many times, including my reading of your last comments, I have to stop, and as I mentioned on the teaching I shared with you on tape, I say to myself, "Get it together, Johnson!" I am so overcome by emotions. In the past, I would catch myself weeping, and I would apologize to God for being so emotional, but then I realized that God wired me that way and that if anybody understood me during these times when waves of wonder and delight flood my soul, surely God, my Father, understood and was deeply touched by my expression of my deepest sentiments. Even now, I seemed to have gotten carried away with my explanation of how I came to use the term "Affirmation and Confirmation" in a special way. Pardon the digression.
  
  Thanks again, for the poetry you send. As always it is a delight to read words that reach the core of my being, as I nod in agreement and express a soul-felt Amen and Amen. I'm almost certain that you inquire of the Lord as to what to say, who'll be poet laureate for this particular occasion, and then you speak almost prophetically the words that minister to edify, exhort and comfort. Once again the Urdu poet with his powerful imagery moved me in a profound way. The line in reference to taking away his voice, that even his links would be like words that speak. I thought of Paul's statement that he is "an ambassador in bonds."
  
  Once again, my good brother, you are moving up in your designated ability as a shooter. The three stages of progression are Marksman, Sharpshooter, and finally Expert. Your consistency in hitting the target indicates that you have moved from Marksman to Sharpshooter to Expert. You aim to please, and you seldom miss the mark.
  
  I continue to thank God that you are my friend. I have gone on and on, and still I have not said all I have to say. I wanted to comment about your statement regarding "the bride" and wanted to share with you a recent "prophetic word" regarding the "Bride of Christ" along with the most recent poem that I wrote a couple of days ago with a reference to the bride waiting in the bridal chamber. I must remember to send it tomorrow.
  
  Got to go for now. Here is the poem I promised.
  
  Always,
  
  Lonnell
  
  Restoration Rivers
  
  with gratitude to Duff and Shari Eckstein
  for their ministry of love and service
  to Brenda and me and to the Body of Christ
  
  
  He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
  He leads me beside the still waters.
  He restores my soul;
  Psalm 23
  
  By the still waters, God sat me down, and I wept,
  Not in sorrow, but my soul overflowed with joy
  When I recalled that He never slumbered nor slept
  And what He designed for good nothing can destroy.
  I released burdens, and without hesitation
  Abba, Father assured me that He sees and cares.
  As I wept by the rivers of restoration,
  His heart of compassion was touched by fervent prayers.
  In the hammock of love, the Spirit cradled me
  And caressed my weary mind with a gentle breeze,
  As I reflected on this phase of my journey,
  While resting under a canopy of oak trees.
  Our great Shepherd is faithful and still delivers;
  Follow his leading to Restoration Rivers.
  
  
  Lonnell E. Johnson
  Smith Mountain Lake
  Moneta, Virginia
  August 8, 2006