Your God kills people
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Archaeology Proves Bible History Accurate
https://www.thetrumpet.com/article/...ity/archaeology-proves-bible-history-accurate
https://www.thetrumpet.com/article/...ity/archaeology-proves-bible-history-accurate
Yet you believe we have an imaginary friend, because we believe in God. Your view is not as harsh as some, though perhaps you soften your true beliefs, as you admittedly are shielding us from full disclosure of your beliefs, after all. Clearly you believe we are wrong, and just as plainly we believe you are wrong. The difference between us is that most of us have been in your shoes as pride driven, rebellious, defiant, hard hearted (toward God) non believers, whereas it is most likely that you have never been in any of our shoes, as born again, Holy Spirit filled, God believing Jesus lovers, accepted by God as His children, awaiting the hope promised through the return of Christ at the end of the age, when we shall pass from this life into the next, and you shall pass into the second death.
I don't even discuss this with agnostics or atheists. I would actually have a more enjoyable and intelligent conversation with someone from another religion then someone who is hostile to God.
I always ask the same thing. Has a atheist or agnostic read the bible in spiritual manner and given God a sincere open minded chance to relationship with him?
If not, no sense in talking about it with him. No point of reference.
I have nothing to prove, and don't need to defend God.
His loss, not mine.
I always ask the same thing. Has a atheist or agnostic read the bible in spiritual manner and given God a sincere open minded chance to relationship with him?
If not, no sense in talking about it with him. No point of reference.
I have nothing to prove, and don't need to defend God.
His loss, not mine.
K
Humm read all your posts,all your questions. I dont know what you believe or why you are here. I only have one question for you. What if its all true? The God thing,the Jesus thing,the Bible and hell what if its all true? Were does your belief leave you? You seem well read,Im sure you know Pascals wager,
"If one bets that God does exist, and he does, you win "everything", to lose - you lose nothing. Should one bet that God does not exist - and win, you win nothing, but to lose? You lose "everything".
Thats about all I have to add to the discussion.
Doxie.
This is only a small part of something a friend of mine wrote, but it gives you a glimpse into a lot of what may have happened in the writing of many parts of our religious history. This passage was designed to consider something other than what is being discussed here, but it may give you some clues to why both you and we have certain ideas.
Remember, although the Bible was inspired by God, men originally penned it... and just "regular" men, living much later, selected which ones they determined were the inspired books.... and mere men interpreted those writings for well over a thousand years... and later, mere men translated them.... and since then, all down through history, mere men have been the ones who built doctrines and developed and established Denominations based upon inspirations that occurred sometimes three, almost four, thousand years ago.
****************
DADDY’S ARRIVAL
Each and every day when I return home from work, I have an incredible experience. Upon realizing that daddy has returned home, one by one my children begin to scream “Daddy’s home” with sheer joy in their voices. I then hear the thumping of six little feet bolting toward the door, as each one fights to be the first to shower me with hugs and kisses. To them, the sound of my car door shutting, my feet shuffling up the steps, and my keys jangling as I unlock the door, is one that announces the arrival of their best friend and hero. The sound of my arrival never strikes fear or terror into their hearts, because they know that I’m a good daddy and this knowledge of my goodness makes my arrival a thing worth celebrating.
However, let’s say that one day upon returning home, the sound of my arrival elicited no squeals of joy or eruptions of laughter. Only silence. I would quickly begin to wonder where my miniature welcoming committee had gone! Perhaps they’re playing a joke on me and are planning to jump out and surprise me, I think. However, upon opening the door I find the entry way vacant. Perhaps they’re napping and didn’t hear me arrive! However, after checking their rooms and finding them empty, I begin to worry! I check the backyard, but still, no sign of them.
I begin calling out their names, shouting, “Hannah, Samuel, Abigail... Where are you!?” No reply. Then, after several more minutes of frantic calling out, I hear a scared, sheepish little voice coming from the hall closet say, “Daddy, we heard you walking up the steps, and we were afraid... so, we hid.”
Needless to say, my heart would be absolutely crushed at the thought of my children being frightened of me. After all, in all of my years as their daddy, I’ve never given them any reason to be afraid of me.
After I finally coax them out of hiding, suppose I find them to be dressed in a most unusual way — covered from head to toe in various pieces of artwork that they have created, in addition to having wrapped themselves in award ribbons like little mummies. They begin waddling towards me, frantically directing my attention to hand written lists they’ve made which document all of their accomplishments. They attempt to assure me through their actions that, at the heart of it all, they’re good kids. They continue pointing to their accomplishments in the hope that I, in my superior goodness, would come to see and acknowledge their own inferior, but nonetheless apparent, goodness.
As a good father who loves my children, this scenario would be rather disturbing to say the very least.
I’d no doubt ask them, “Why would you hide from Daddy? Why did you feel that you needed to be afraid of me? And why would you feel as though you needed to prove yourselves to me in this way? I love you and I am proud of you! You never need to seek Daddy’s love or approval by trying to be perfect. Why have you come to believe that there is something wrong with you?”
If, in this imaginary scenario, they answered my question by saying that it was because they had colored on the walls, not put their toys away, or some other benign thing, I would smile and assure them that their behavior, though not exemplary, would never change daddy into someone from whom they needed to hide. I may have to discipline them, but their actions would not, and could not, change my nature or disposition towards them.
However, let’s suppose that it was more than a fear of fatherly discipline that caused them to cower. Let’s say that at some point during the day, a friend from next door had sat down with them, dishing out all of the dirty details on just how different kids and parents were from one another. Let’s say that this neighbor convinced my kids that children were inherently bad, and that parents were inherently good. Because of this difference in character, so this neighbor told my children, a great gulf existed between parents and children — a gulf so wide and deep that nothing could ever really fill it.
In this scenario, my children were told that parents were vengeful and bloodthirsty creatures, needing to be constantly appeased and made happy through good deeds, and required constant reminding that their children were worthy of existence. They were then told tall tales of children who didn’t live up to their mommy and daddy’s expectations, and who faced horrific punishments as a result.
At the end of a few hours of such nonsensical talk my children actually began to question my character, as well as their own. All of a sudden, the mess that they had made in the basement just hours ago seemed like a slightly bigger deal than it did before. And so, they rushed home and began frantically cleaning up their messes, knowing that I would be arriving soon. Their hearts beat fearfully as they raced to undo their wrongs. Then they hatched a plan, “We’ll trick daddy into not seeing our badness! We’ll cover ourselves in our own accomplishments so that we can fool him into believing that we’re actually good kids!” And so they covered themselves in award ribbons they had won, and wrapped themselves in school assignments on which they had received good grades.
In this imagined scenario, a fear of discipline was not what caused my children to hide at the sound of my arrival. This “neighbor” had imparted a false knowledge to them which shaped me into a being that is the exact opposite of my true nature. The neighbor had projected into my children’s minds the image of a frightening, vengeful, unapproachable monster, who needed to be appeased through good works and behavior. My children’s thoughts about me became crooked and twisted, and they surmised that they’d had me figured all wrong the first time around. Daddy isn’t really for us, he’s against us. He’s not our friend after all, he’s our enemy, but if we live and behave a certain way, perhaps we can live together in peace.
And so on that day, when they heard me gently shut my car door, their minds heard it slamming in anger. When they heard the sound of my feet shuffling up the walkway, their minds caused them to hear angry, thunderous stomps! As my hands turned the door knob, their minds heard the sound of terrifying claws scratching at the door. They hid themselves, fearing my wrath. In the event that I did happen to find them, their only hope was that they could appease me with an impressive display of good works and merit. Needless to say, as a Father, if such a silly scenario actually took place, it wouldn’t seem silly to me at all as I would be utterly devastated. What could be more hurtful to a good father than for his children to think evil of him? Undoubtedly, I would dedicate myself to showing them my true nature as their father, and would seek to assure them that they were safe, loved, and not in any way endangered by my presence. I would not stop until the damage was undone and they once more believed that both I and they were good.
This is only a small part of something a friend of mine wrote, but it gives you a glimpse into a lot of what may have happened in the writing of many parts of our religious history. This passage was designed to consider something other than what is being discussed here, but it may give you some clues to why both you and we have certain ideas.
Remember, although the Bible was inspired by God, men originally penned it... and just "regular" men, living much later, selected which ones they determined were the inspired books.... and mere men interpreted those writings for well over a thousand years... and later, mere men translated them.... and since then, all down through history, mere men have been the ones who built doctrines and developed and established Denominations based upon inspirations that occurred sometimes three, almost four, thousand years ago.
****************
DADDY’S ARRIVAL
Each and every day when I return home from work, I have an incredible experience. Upon realizing that daddy has returned home, one by one my children begin to scream “Daddy’s home” with sheer joy in their voices. I then hear the thumping of six little feet bolting toward the door, as each one fights to be the first to shower me with hugs and kisses. To them, the sound of my car door shutting, my feet shuffling up the steps, and my keys jangling as I unlock the door, is one that announces the arrival of their best friend and hero. The sound of my arrival never strikes fear or terror into their hearts, because they know that I’m a good daddy and this knowledge of my goodness makes my arrival a thing worth celebrating.
However, let’s say that one day upon returning home, the sound of my arrival elicited no squeals of joy or eruptions of laughter. Only silence. I would quickly begin to wonder where my miniature welcoming committee had gone! Perhaps they’re playing a joke on me and are planning to jump out and surprise me, I think. However, upon opening the door I find the entry way vacant. Perhaps they’re napping and didn’t hear me arrive! However, after checking their rooms and finding them empty, I begin to worry! I check the backyard, but still, no sign of them.
I begin calling out their names, shouting, “Hannah, Samuel, Abigail... Where are you!?” No reply. Then, after several more minutes of frantic calling out, I hear a scared, sheepish little voice coming from the hall closet say, “Daddy, we heard you walking up the steps, and we were afraid... so, we hid.”
Needless to say, my heart would be absolutely crushed at the thought of my children being frightened of me. After all, in all of my years as their daddy, I’ve never given them any reason to be afraid of me.
After I finally coax them out of hiding, suppose I find them to be dressed in a most unusual way — covered from head to toe in various pieces of artwork that they have created, in addition to having wrapped themselves in award ribbons like little mummies. They begin waddling towards me, frantically directing my attention to hand written lists they’ve made which document all of their accomplishments. They attempt to assure me through their actions that, at the heart of it all, they’re good kids. They continue pointing to their accomplishments in the hope that I, in my superior goodness, would come to see and acknowledge their own inferior, but nonetheless apparent, goodness.
As a good father who loves my children, this scenario would be rather disturbing to say the very least.
I’d no doubt ask them, “Why would you hide from Daddy? Why did you feel that you needed to be afraid of me? And why would you feel as though you needed to prove yourselves to me in this way? I love you and I am proud of you! You never need to seek Daddy’s love or approval by trying to be perfect. Why have you come to believe that there is something wrong with you?”
If, in this imaginary scenario, they answered my question by saying that it was because they had colored on the walls, not put their toys away, or some other benign thing, I would smile and assure them that their behavior, though not exemplary, would never change daddy into someone from whom they needed to hide. I may have to discipline them, but their actions would not, and could not, change my nature or disposition towards them.
However, let’s suppose that it was more than a fear of fatherly discipline that caused them to cower. Let’s say that at some point during the day, a friend from next door had sat down with them, dishing out all of the dirty details on just how different kids and parents were from one another. Let’s say that this neighbor convinced my kids that children were inherently bad, and that parents were inherently good. Because of this difference in character, so this neighbor told my children, a great gulf existed between parents and children — a gulf so wide and deep that nothing could ever really fill it.
In this scenario, my children were told that parents were vengeful and bloodthirsty creatures, needing to be constantly appeased and made happy through good deeds, and required constant reminding that their children were worthy of existence. They were then told tall tales of children who didn’t live up to their mommy and daddy’s expectations, and who faced horrific punishments as a result.
At the end of a few hours of such nonsensical talk my children actually began to question my character, as well as their own. All of a sudden, the mess that they had made in the basement just hours ago seemed like a slightly bigger deal than it did before. And so, they rushed home and began frantically cleaning up their messes, knowing that I would be arriving soon. Their hearts beat fearfully as they raced to undo their wrongs. Then they hatched a plan, “We’ll trick daddy into not seeing our badness! We’ll cover ourselves in our own accomplishments so that we can fool him into believing that we’re actually good kids!” And so they covered themselves in award ribbons they had won, and wrapped themselves in school assignments on which they had received good grades.
In this imagined scenario, a fear of discipline was not what caused my children to hide at the sound of my arrival. This “neighbor” had imparted a false knowledge to them which shaped me into a being that is the exact opposite of my true nature. The neighbor had projected into my children’s minds the image of a frightening, vengeful, unapproachable monster, who needed to be appeased through good works and behavior. My children’s thoughts about me became crooked and twisted, and they surmised that they’d had me figured all wrong the first time around. Daddy isn’t really for us, he’s against us. He’s not our friend after all, he’s our enemy, but if we live and behave a certain way, perhaps we can live together in peace.
And so on that day, when they heard me gently shut my car door, their minds heard it slamming in anger. When they heard the sound of my feet shuffling up the walkway, their minds caused them to hear angry, thunderous stomps! As my hands turned the door knob, their minds heard the sound of terrifying claws scratching at the door. They hid themselves, fearing my wrath. In the event that I did happen to find them, their only hope was that they could appease me with an impressive display of good works and merit. Needless to say, as a Father, if such a silly scenario actually took place, it wouldn’t seem silly to me at all as I would be utterly devastated. What could be more hurtful to a good father than for his children to think evil of him? Undoubtedly, I would dedicate myself to showing them my true nature as their father, and would seek to assure them that they were safe, loved, and not in any way endangered by my presence. I would not stop until the damage was undone and they once more believed that both I and they were good.
