Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Thursday, January 29, 2004


We had our normal midweek Bible study at church last night--this quarter I'm teaching a class of about fourteen 7th-9th graders. As part of our study of spiritual beings, we were studying the nature of Jesus, and I noted that no matter whether or not people believed Jesus was the Messiah, God Incarnate, or some nice guy with special spiritual insight, or a widely-travelled wise man, or a carpenter's son who took one too many licks to the head from falling hammers, or a carnival freak, it was pretty difficult to say that Jesus as a living, breathing, person did not exist. I told the kids that the amount of information written about him, even if you discount the Bible accounts, is sufficient to establish his physical presence as much as any other historical figure, such as, oh, say, Julius Caesar.

"Who's that?" asked one 8th grade girl.


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