It's perfect.
It's unbelievable.
It's a miracle
It's a TV dinner.
It's Fuwjax.

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Opinions fly, clay pigeons   the mind’s blue tapestry full devoid of insight, original thought   the casual opinist cries “Pull!”

The silence is broken, thanks to the myriad of soft reassuring clicks from my Dell factory keyboard. I haven’t put ideas to print for public consumption for quite some time. Blogging hardly seems the holy grail in the quest to conquer the world with my opinion minion army, but it is, perhaps, a first start in freeing my mind from the confining shackles of my braincase and sending it on a wayward merry journey through the gauntlet of public criticism.

But where to begin? When the first words and last words collide before the firing squad, when the day of execution arrives and it is time to make your last stand before your last fall, on that day full of beginnings and ends, what word will lead the flock of doves before the ravenous wolves?

Should I share my favorite bands, my favorite web sites, my favorite brand of sticky tack? Perhaps I should shower you with grand ideas, perhaps how we could one day solve the world’s energy problems, or end prejudice. Maybe I should pull out a well-worn, oft-told story from my sordid history for your amusement.

These can all wait for another day. On this day, this opening day, I must leave you with the one opinion which is not an opinion. One belief that is true regardless of my beliefs.

There is an absolute truth. There is only One God. He died.

That’s how I know it’s true. No one would dream up a weak pitiful God like that. No one wants a dead God.

Maybe that’s why He came back from the dead. Not as a ghost, not as someone or something else. The same guy, the same God, rose from the dead.

Then it turns out that He didn’t do this just to prove a point. It wasn’t some sort of divine thrill ride. He paid my punishment, the punishment I deserve, and His death bought me my freedom.

To top it all off, rather than leaving me stranded, cursed with freedom devoid of responsibility, I have been invited into the family, and given the new mission of sharing with those around me that their punishment too has been fulfilled, their price paid.

There you have it, the only introduction I can truly offer to my world. Clay pigeons are always an unsatisfying kill; they are trivial to clean and the driest of cuisine. But they have their utility in training the mind and body to take aim and fire with confidence and consistency. So please, take aim where you will, and fire as you may. My words are offered up not for sustenance, but for target practice.

Posted with : The Way