I am so confused right now. I keep seeing grown men and women talking about devils and gods and the end of times, as mad men and women have done now for 2000 years. For 2000 years, men and women have looked at things that confuse them and things that astound them and stand in open mouthed wonderment befuddled enough to buy into a story of a god who is coming, but right now, maybe he is playing monopoly or something with his self, or son, or whatever a god does when a world has gone mad. Maybe he is listening to a cry of billions of voices coming from this crazy planet of these mad men and women and just decided to check out because of all of the noise.
I am really uninterested in the reason, I refuse to buy the story. You can print it and shout it and try to sell it in any way you wish, but in truth, if you really believed you would keep that faith and not be cowering down asking for a sign.
We are at that moment where Dorothy clicks her heels and she realizes it is her, not the slippers. She had it all in her all along. A crutch is nice, but it is not really necessary.
I cannot buy Christianity. I do not care how you try to sell it. It makes a god you are supposed to fear and a conformity no one can wholly commit to. It makes mad men out of strangers. There is no one to save you in that free-fall.
There is a famous story of the man who asked Buddha if there was a God, he said yes or no then the next time he asked the answer was different. The point of the story is kind of that whether or not you believe there is a god, you can live as if there is one. It is a simple, basic belief. Maybe there is a beautiful wonderful god who is not a sadistic horrible monster I read about, and maybe this god is truly merciful, and maybe if I live my life minding my own business and doing what I believe is right, and maybe if I hold strong to hope without killing anyone else’s, maybe one day I may be in the graces of that wonderful being of light, if not, I still lived the way I think I should.
We are capable of defining our own moral path. This means your moral code may not be the same as mine. I may believe differently, I may love differently, I may even make different mistakes, but my life was not wasted waiting on a man that may or not have died and undied 2000 years back. The story is crazy, and it does not define me. It is not my story.
I write my story.
Something to consider:
It is always the will of divine intervention, unless it is something with which you disagree.
Child dies? The will of omnipotent being.
Gays marry? It cannot be both ways.
Fatalism cannot be a part time answe