I was at the bus stop this week, and I encountered a man in a wheelchair. He was partially disfigured and had no use of one of his arms. I noticed he wore a cross keychain, and it got me thinking about Jesus and the miracles described in the gospels.
What I really thought about this pathetic creature in the wheelchair was, "There's no way that I or God could possibly heal you."
I discovered "The Jefferson Bible" a while ago. It's Thomas Jefferson's version of the life of Jesus, where he cut and pasted passages of Jesus' life, with all the miracles and divinity left out.
My favorite part is the way Jefferson's version ends:
Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus, And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.
THE END!
No rising from the dead, no second coming, he's just dead. What a relief. We can all get back to living our lives without him judging us.
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