Television.
The Vast Wasteland.
Reality TV that isn't reality.
Sitcoms with jokes appealing to the basest of our desires and the lowest of intellects.
Yeah. It's Jr. Hi all over again.
Oh, and those happy romps through the criminal mind, complete with beheadings, maimings, cadavers, and bodily fluids.
Lotsa bodily fluids.
It's like walking bare-foot through a stockyard while telling myself I find the content and odor "entertaining".
So now, in a self-righteous hissy-fit, I shall embark on a pseudo-intellectual voyage, picking a topic at random and then waxing profound.
Let's seeeeee.
"I'll take "The 1st 4 Words of Genesis" for a gazillion dollars, Alex."
Ya ever think about those words?
"In the beginning, God -"
I summon up all my pseudo-intellectual powers, trying to match the insights of C.S. Lewis, Francis Schaeffer, A. W. Tozer ...
and realize I dunno diddly squat.
But I struggle on.
Ignorance is bliss.
That's why I'm so happy.
Thinking about these 4 words trumps that whole "Chicken or The Egg" thing.
At least with that you got two choices.
Pick one or the other and wax poetic.
Genesis 1:1 gives ya 1 thing.
God.
There before the Beginning.
The Beginning begun by the One with No Beginning.
God is. He has no "was".
The Beginning has a "was".
God doesn't.
My head hurts.
Then I remember when the DAGU, (Daughter All Grown Up), just barely walking, would stagger over and crawl up onto the sofa.
I'd hold up an arm and she'd fall into my lap, snuggling in for a nap.
She didn't care about where I came from, what made me the way I am, or even what I did that day at work.
I was Daddy.
Her Daddy.
And she knew I loved her.
'Nuff said.
(A Stan Lee philosophical premise.)
Huh.
Maybe that's the way to truly enjoy God.
Like a little child.
Trusting. Reaching. Stretching. Climbing up into His lap to rest there - contentedly.
Not a care in the world.
Hey.
I guess Alfred E. Neuman, the philosophical poster boy for Mad Magazine, had it pegged all along.
And who would've painted him a theologian as he uttered those famous words -
"What? Me worry?"
Right on, Al.
Right on.