Roadtoad
Bufo Caminus Inedibilis
One of the things you get plenty of on long runs is head time. You get plenty of time to think about whatever runs through your mind. Sometimes, this can be a blessing: you get to seriously consider things most other folks would simply gloss over.
Religion, as you might guess, is a big one for me. Having been in vocational ministry, (though the station was owned by an atheist, believe it or not), I've had to re-examine everything I believed over the past few years, and why I chose to believe it. Part of what bothers me about this part of my life is that I'm forced to admit that in becoming a Christian I probably didn't think the whole business through before I got into it.
It's very easy to think that we examine things like Christianity before we leap, that we take the time to review the evidence and decide based on fact what we will choose to do with our painfully short lives. We take great pains to explain to people the value of evidence, and in fact, much of our entertainment is centered around just that. It's just too sad that when it comes down to cases, we actually find that much of the "evidence" we examine is so limited, it's little more than a rehash of ancient legend, that if we had to admit it, we'd have to say that we've simply gone along with the crowd.
It's interesting, because when you think about it, you almost have to admire some of those we're told are outright evil. Consider Anton LaVey, the guy who started the Church of Satan. On the one hand, you can say he protested mindless belief with his forming his organization. Another view is that he formed it as a parody of the God Squads, that he's mocking Christianity. Either way, you have to admit he was a prime grade genius. (You could also say he truly believed what he taught, and that might make him a flake, but he's still brilliant in a weird sort of way.)
Part of what drove me to follow Christianity is that I wanted to be a good man. I had grown up being told that I wasn't capable of being Good, that I was an insult to my parents, that I was a failure. I saw in belief in Christ the possibility that I could, for once, be a good person.
The reality is that, like sports, church doesn't develop your character, it reveals it. I had to admit for the most part that my character wasn't very good. This meant I had to change, and that was hard as hell. It still is, and it will always be.
But it's necessary. Goodness, oddly enough, is a pretty basic concept for most of us, and if you spend any time with other people at all, their reactions to you will tell you if what you're doing is good or not. If you accept the idea that Goodness is what enables us to work together for common good, that it enhances our lives, rather than detracts from it, then you can gauge what works to make life "good," and what can in turn help you to be a "good" person. The rest of it is pretty much window dressing.
To phrase it another way, if you need God/gods/deities of any sort to make you a good person, you have far greater problems than any religion can help you solve.
Religion, as you might guess, is a big one for me. Having been in vocational ministry, (though the station was owned by an atheist, believe it or not), I've had to re-examine everything I believed over the past few years, and why I chose to believe it. Part of what bothers me about this part of my life is that I'm forced to admit that in becoming a Christian I probably didn't think the whole business through before I got into it.
It's very easy to think that we examine things like Christianity before we leap, that we take the time to review the evidence and decide based on fact what we will choose to do with our painfully short lives. We take great pains to explain to people the value of evidence, and in fact, much of our entertainment is centered around just that. It's just too sad that when it comes down to cases, we actually find that much of the "evidence" we examine is so limited, it's little more than a rehash of ancient legend, that if we had to admit it, we'd have to say that we've simply gone along with the crowd.
It's interesting, because when you think about it, you almost have to admire some of those we're told are outright evil. Consider Anton LaVey, the guy who started the Church of Satan. On the one hand, you can say he protested mindless belief with his forming his organization. Another view is that he formed it as a parody of the God Squads, that he's mocking Christianity. Either way, you have to admit he was a prime grade genius. (You could also say he truly believed what he taught, and that might make him a flake, but he's still brilliant in a weird sort of way.)
Part of what drove me to follow Christianity is that I wanted to be a good man. I had grown up being told that I wasn't capable of being Good, that I was an insult to my parents, that I was a failure. I saw in belief in Christ the possibility that I could, for once, be a good person.
The reality is that, like sports, church doesn't develop your character, it reveals it. I had to admit for the most part that my character wasn't very good. This meant I had to change, and that was hard as hell. It still is, and it will always be.
But it's necessary. Goodness, oddly enough, is a pretty basic concept for most of us, and if you spend any time with other people at all, their reactions to you will tell you if what you're doing is good or not. If you accept the idea that Goodness is what enables us to work together for common good, that it enhances our lives, rather than detracts from it, then you can gauge what works to make life "good," and what can in turn help you to be a "good" person. The rest of it is pretty much window dressing.
To phrase it another way, if you need God/gods/deities of any sort to make you a good person, you have far greater problems than any religion can help you solve.
