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I Don’t Force It, but It Needs to Be Addressed Once and For ALL!

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So someone asked, shouldn’t there be more proof, or evidence of Jesus.  Why did people not start writing above him until AFTER he was dead and several years later than that?  It’s all just a conspiracy and why wouldn’t Ceasar Agustus have written about Jesus in his journals or books if he was such a big deal at the time…So here it goes.
Jesus’ own people apparently first wrote about him about twenty years after his death, in the Epistles of Paul. Paul recorded what was important to him from whatever he knew, second-hand, about Jesus’ life. Some years later, more conventionally biographical works were written. 

The chief reason for the delay seems fairly clear. Jesus’ people thought he was coming back in their lifetimes. There was no point writing things for future generations when there weren’t supposed to be any future generations. 

The other use for writing is to transmit information through space. There’s no evidence of any systematic networking among dispersed Christian centers before Paul set up his network. As soon as he did, he wrote things down, business correspondence. 

Nobody else wrote anything about Jesus for plausibly the same reasons that few people today write about the many and colorful traveling godmen of India. Unless you’re part of that culture, you aren’t much interested in reading about magic tricks better appreciated in person. If you are both part of that culture and literate, then maybe the itinerant godman isn’t the image of your people you want to present to the rest of the world. 

And recall that like the Indian godmen, the Jewish Godman spoke almost exclusively to his own co-religionists. By the time writing lives of Jesus is being done in earnest, that religion, Second Temple Judaism, doesn’t even exist anymore, because there was no longer any Second Temple. 

Besides, after the first generation (the one that thought it wasn’t going to die, but did), Christianity had its own living people to promote the organization by working their own signs and wonders. For example, exorcism is very dramatic, and if it’s done in Jesus’ name, and it “works,” then you might believe other things about Jesus, too. (For example, you might think the first generation simply misunderstood what Jesus meant about not dying, See John 21). 

It’s a good question, then, but it just isn’t a big mystery. The delay isn’t so long or so unaccountable that it tells much about the historicity of Jesus. As to the divinity or prophethood of Jesus, that’s faith, and so it doesn’t really matter whether anybody ever wrote anythning down about that or not. You believe it or you don’t, and there’s isn’t a lot more to it than that. 


Written by sxt004

June 26, 2012 at 1:18 am

Posted in Uncategorized

Happy, Birthday I Know Who You Are

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Sometimes people lose their way.  Sometimes people live a life that just was doomed from the beginning. Some people just so happen to have everything fall their way and just cruise through life.  
James Lee Raby was one of those people that lived a life where at different times, he had all the types of life a person can live.  He grew up and outcast, not white enough to be white, not black enough to be black.  Always just trying to find his place in the world.  Maybe not even in the world, just a place where he knew what and who he was.  To some people he was this over bearing, obnoxious guy who annoyed you to no end.  Some people loved him no matter what he did or where he was.  Others just flat out hated him and wanted nothing to do with him.

 Aaron Anthony Loupe, I, his brother, at different times felt all three ways about him.  My brother was as complicated as a rubix cube.  The thing about a rubix cube, is that there is a way to solve it no matter how complicated.  Throughout my life, i had just about figured him out.  Through all the layers, personalities, lives, places, feelings, i knew who my brother was.  He loved.  He loved.

 Everything he did was for a reason, bad and good.  He liked being free.  He lived in the wilderness of society and lived in, well, the wilderness of the world.  I knew what he wanted though.  He wanted to just be able to do whatever, whenever.  It took me the longest to understand why he tried so much to be a free spirit until it hit me one day.  A day i’m sure i was so mad at him i could have knocked his teeth out.

 The conclusion i came to was that he wanted to be free, because he thought that was how he would find himself.  He thought that finding his place in this world meant he had to be on his own and away from everything.  He didn’t need money, nice clothes, cars, even a home.  He searched his whole life until the day he died with the one goal of being able to know who he was.  The saddest part, the thing that hurts me the most, is knowing he died, without finding out.  I knew more about him than he did…and i wasn’t around him.  He tried drugs, crime, religion, different parts of the country, spirituality, fantasy, work, books..everything.  He just wanted to know who he was so he could show people his true self and be loved.  I know he felt loved from everyone, but sometimes you have to love yourself before you can accept someone else’s love.  Feeling that way is a lonely feeling that few can imagine.  My brother died alone.  Now he would call me from time to time, come back to Louisiana, show up out of no where, and then be gone again.  It never failed though.  I knew i would hear from him at least on or around his birthday.  It was always the same thing, “Hey man, i just wanted to call and tell you i love you and i’m really just down right now.  Another year has gone by and i just feel like i’ve done nothing so far with my life.  I’d really like it if you could come and see me or visit.  You’d love it here where i am.” And me “come on man don’t be like that, you’ve seen some cool things and lived a crazy life, but you just need to plant some roots.  Do what you have to do right now so later you can do what you want to do.  Nah man, i can’t make it out to where you are, i have to work and i don’t really have the money.”  Him “nah man i’ll send you some, i been working at this place and i got enough for a bus ticket.”  Me “just come down here man, you can see mom and dad and marqui too, plus start over and get yourself together.”  Him “nah, i’ll be fine.  I gotta go now, but Happy birthday to you man in case i don’t get to talk to you.”  Me “you sure you okay man, thanks.  If you need something call me.”  Every year, it never failed.  There’s so much more to say about him…i could literally write a book, but you’d never understand him…like i did.  When we were kids i was the little brother that went everywhere with him.  When i grew up, we went our different ways.  But he always called me when things got bad.  A week before my brother passed, he called my mom, my dad, and my sister…but not me.  He wanted to come home and get his life together.  He finally wanted to do the things he needed to do so he could do what he wanted to do later.  Then a few days later, he called them back…didn’t want to come home, didn’t want to bring his troubles with him.  He told my mom, my sister, my dad that he loved them but he would be fine.  I received a phone call from my sister crying telling me they found my brother…they weren’t sure it was him, but his wallet and ID matched the body.  My brother never called me, he didn’t ask for my help, he didn’t ask me to go see him, he didn’t let me tell him…”Hey man, things are going good over here.  I have a great job, making great money, and finally have some free time.  I miss you and it’s been a while.  I might be able to visit because i have some time off, or get you a plane ticket home so you can get here quicker. If i come up there, i’ll put us up in a nice hotel and we can find some crazy stuff to get in to.  I’ll bring Colt and Troy if they can come, too.”  I never got to tell him that.  I was on the right road to finding my place, knowing who i was.  He never called…Now i don’t know how all this works, and maybe i’m blowing smoke in the wind.  But James, I wish you could have called then.  I wish I could get that normal phone call tomorrow, June 21st, and it would be you.  And i could tell you what i have been wanting to tell you.  I could tell you happy birthday, and everything will be ok.  I know who you are, and all the good things you did.  I got married to an amazing girl.  Colt and Troy are still around.  I miss you.  Just in case my phone rings tomorrow, I promise i’ll answer it…I know who you are.  I know who you are.Image 

Written by sxt004

June 21, 2012 at 2:12 am

Posted in Uncategorized