While wading through coverage for the announcement about the possible discovery of the Higgs particle, I decided to do a little background research. I hopped over to wikipedia and read this description of the Higgs mechanism:

In particle physics, the Higgs mechanism is the process in which gauge bosons in a gauge theory can acquire non-vanishing masses through absorption of Nambu-Goldstone bosons arising in spontaneous symmetry breaking.

Oh yes. Gauge bosons and Nambu-Goldstone bosons. Of course. Got it. I then started to read about QCD (Quantum Chromodynamics), and a number of other theories that are really quite meaningless to me. As I went through this exercise, an old idea was reinforced:

Nothing is as simple as it looks.

There are many days in my classroom when I struggle, because my students make assertions about Christian theology that are very simple. (NB: There is a difference between “simple” and “incorrect.”) Because I have spent a fair amount of time thinking about and researching that particular issue, I often see a greater level of complexity.

To me, this is the beauty of theology. Though we slap the -ology suffix on it and call it a field of knowledge, we cannot deny the element of mystery. As we delve deeper and deeper into it, we might be met with answers, but we always find more questions.

Today’s reading: John 12.20–32:

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’ Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour.

‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, ‘An angel has spoken to him.’ Jesus answered, ‘This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’

I love this image of the heavens thundering, but the apostles hearing a voice:

“I have glorified [my name], and I will glorify it again.”

Within the immediate context of this passage, the voice must be referring to the crucifixion and resurrection. This is clear from the metaphorical meaning of the previous passage concerning the wheat which  must go into the ground in order to bear fruit. Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection, however, is the firstfruits of a mighty harvest; we too must die in order to bear fruit.

My students often ask me: “What do I need to do to be in God’s will?” Sometimes we put so much pressure on ourselves to accomplish God’s will, forgetting that he will take care of what is necessary to accomplish his promises. We strive and strive and strive, and so often we fail. My answer always comes from Matthew 23:

1. Love God.
2. Love others.

Notice the lack of selfishness here. There is no real concern for self — only for others. We kill of the self in order to serve the other. We experience a death that leads to ultimate life. Love God; love others. If we are doing these things, then I have no doubt that God’s name will be glorified.

Father in Heaven,

Let us, your humble servants glorify your name by loving you and loving those with whom we come into contact. May we never forget your abundant love and your own self-sacrifice as we die daily in the hope of the ultimate reward.

Amen. 

This morning’s reading, Mark 12.1–12:

Then he began to speak to them in parables. ‘A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watch-tower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. But they seized him, and beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. And again he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted. Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, “They will respect my son.” But those tenants said to one another, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.” So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Have you not read this scripture:
“The stone that the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone;
this was the Lord’s doing,
and it is amazing in our eyes”?’

When they realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.

Immediately, we try to put ourselves into this parable. Am I one of the wicked tenants? Am I a slave? Am I somehow related to the son or the owner? The standard interpretation, of course, posits the slaves as the Old Testament prophets and the wicked tenants as the Jewish establishment. What interests me, however, is the use of Psalm 118 at the end and this idea that the rejected stone becomes the corner stone. How often have I rejected the most important stone? Is it possible that I’m committing the same foul crime that the wicked tenants have?

What we do with Jesus is truly important. We can choose to cast him aside, ignoring him. Perhaps we only bring him out on special holidays, if we keep him alive at all. Or we can place him as the cornerstone, the foundation upon which we stand.

Lord, let me not reject you.
You are more glorious than anything else;
Other stones are mere pebbles next to you.
Keep my eye on what is truly precious.
Amen. 

Steve Jobs (1955-2011): Death of a Human Tech God? | Religion Dispatches.

On the occasion of Steve Jobs’s death, Religion Dispatch calls attention to a funny Umberto Eco quote which makes Mac out to be Catholic and DOS out to be Protestant:

I am firmly of the opinion that the Macintosh is Catholic and that DOS is Protestant. Indeed, the Macintosh is counter-reformist and has been influenced by the ratio studiorum of the Jesuits. It is cheerful, friendly, conciliatory; it tells the faithful how they must proceed step by step to reach—if not the kingdom of Heaven—the moment in which their document is printed. It is catechistic: The essence of revelation is dealt with via simple formulae and sumptuous icons. Everyone has a right to salvation.

DOS is Protestant, or even Calvinistic. It allows free interpretation of scripture, demands difficult personal decisions, imposes a subtle hermeneutics upon the user, and takes for granted the idea that not all can achieve salvation. To make the system work you need to interpret the program yourself: Far away from the baroque community of revelers, the user is closed within the loneliness of his own inner torment.

I’ve been following along with the Common Worship Morning Prayer lectionary. This morning’s New Testament reading was Mark 11.27–end. It is amazing to me how some things never change. Let’s look at the text:

Again they came to Jerusalem. As he was walking in the temple, the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders came to him and said, ‘By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority to do them?’ Jesus said to them, ‘I will ask you one question; answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin? Answer me.’ They argued with one another, ‘If we say, “From heaven”, he will say, “Why then did you not believe him?” But shall we say, “Of human origin”?’—they were afraid of the crowd, for all regarded John as truly a prophet. So they answered Jesus, ‘We do not know.’ And Jesus said to them, ‘Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.’

The chief priests, scribes, and elders have fallen into a trap that is all too common. They have decided that it is better to save face, better to play politics, better to do what is expedient than to seek Truth. Because they refuse to answer, Jesus, in turn, refuses to answer.

How often have I done the same thing? How often have I fallen prey to doing what is easy rather than standing up for what is right?

Lord, may I not be like those who suppressed the Truth because they were afraid of how it might make them look. Let me not fall into the trap of worrying more about my status and my comfort than the Truth that can be found in you alone.
Amen. 

Paul Wallace shares some excellent thoughts about the validity of a Christian education. He uses Richard Dawkins’s recent comments against the idea of a school for atheists as his framework. Check it out: “Richard Dawkins’ Atheist Academy of Unguided Truth” at Religion Dispatches.

It sounds like Wallace’s school fits well with my sensibilities.

For a few hours I had a post up called “Donald Miller is an Idiot” a response to his recent blog post entitled “Should the Church Be Led by Teachers and Scholars?” After some thoughtful reconsideration, I’ve decided that the post was too strongly worded. I take issue with Miller’s understanding of what a “scholar” and a “teacher” is. Quite frankly, I just don’t think that he could be more incorrect in his analysis of the church in this post.

But, I want to get to a broader point. There seems to be a dichotomy that is being promulgated by many: Christian Thought vs. Christian Experience. This dichotomy is absolutely false.

The reality is that Christian Thought does not preclude Christian Experience; nor does Christian Experience trump Christian Through. Rather, the two work hand-in-hand. At the beginning of Book 4 of Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis does an excellent job of explaining the usefulness of theology. This is how he chooses to introduces a series of chapters on the Trinity. He admits that it is always better to experience God rather than just read about him, just as it is always better to be at the beach than to look at a picture of one. However, sometimes we need to be reminded of what the beach is, and that’s why it’s good to have a painting or two.

In my experience, I have seen Christians climb to the mountaintop and fall deep into the valley. When we are in the valley, we tend to despair, and we even come to a point where we deny what we previously knew to be true. If we fail to understand and learn who God is and who we are in relation to him, then the climb up out of the valley becomes nearly impossible because there is nothing to stop us from denying him altogether.

There is a great need for scholars in Christian churches. There is a great need for teachers in Christian churches. There is a great need for teaching and learning and discussion in Christian churches.

Finally, I’d like to challenge Donald Miller a bit. What does he hope to do when he writes books and speaks at conferences? Is he not teaching? A picture from his website (seen below) looks conspicuously like the sort of thing he condemns in his blog post. A word to all those teachers out there: James 3.1.

Donald Miller seems to be teaching...

On March 19th my son, Gus Howard Hebert, was born. Thanks for all of your well-wishes and congratulations. (Above is a photo of the little booger.)

My wife, Natalie, and I have been adjusting to our new family life. For almost nine years we have lived happily married and on our own. A year ago we acquired our dog, Maeby, and now we have a full-fledged family with a brand new little baby. In the last year we’ve gone from freewheeling to responsibility-laden.

These new events have led me to think more carefully about my role as husband. Natalie and I try to live by Jesus’ two commands found in Matthew 22.37–40:

1. Love God.
2. Love others.

We always talk about how we consider our spouse to be our “first other”; when it comes to loving others, the first person on my list should be Natalie. Even with the dog and the baby, I don’t think this has changed. Natalie is still my primary responsibility. If I’m loving God and loving her, then my love for little Gus (and Maeby!) will take care of itself; our love will spill over and nourish him.

I don’t know what marriage with children really looks like. But I do know that this is my primary duty:

“Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…” (Eph. 5.25)

Hot off the heels of my frustration with SparkLife, I decided to tackle Ricky Gervais’s “Holiday Message.” Due to its length, I will skip some stuff. I don’t feel like I’ve skipped anything particularly crucial, but correct me if I’m wrong. Let me also say that I think Gervais is a fantastic comedian. I love The Office and Extras.

Why don’t you believe in God? I get that question all the time. I always try to give a sensitive, reasoned answer. This is usually awkward, time consuming and pointless. People who believe in God don’t need proof of his existence, and they certainly don’t want evidence to the contrary. They are happy with their belief. They even say things like “it’s true to me” and “it’s faith”. I still give my logical answer because I feel that not being honest would be patronizing and impolite. It is ironic therefore that “I don’t believe in God because there is absolutely no scientific evidence for his existence and from what I’ve heard the very definition is a logical impossibility in this known universe”, comes across as both patronizing and impolite.

I agree with you, Mr. Gervais: I see no hard scientific evidence for the existence of God either. In fact, I’m working on a blog post on that. The basic idea is this: I can’t prove the supernatural by looking only at the natural.

What some of my theist friends might find patronizing is this bit about “logical impossibility.” I’m glad that you add “known universe” here — what about the unknown?

Arrogance is another accusation. Which seems particularly unfair. Science seeks the truth. And it does not discriminate. For better or worse it finds things out. Science is humble. It knows what it knows and it knows what it doesn’t know.

Again, we are in agreement. Science is pretty honest about what it doesn’t know. However, one of the things that it doesn’t know are those things that are beyond the realm of science. Now, hardcore adherents who put all of their faith in science (and you seem to be one of these) tend to discount that there is anything that science can’t know. That’s where we differ.

…I’m saying God doesn’t exist. I’m not saying faith doesn’t exist. I know faith exists. I see it all the time. But believing in something doesn’t make it true. Hoping that something is true doesn’t make it true. The existence of God is not subjective. He either exists or he doesn’t. It’s not a matter of opinion. You can have your own opinions. But you can’t have your own facts.

OK. Fair enough. But, recognize that you too are putting your faith in something. Namely, you’re putting your faith in science to explain the entirety of the universe (though, at least you admit that we don’t know everything yet). You are looking at the natural world and saying: That’s all there is. I’m looking at the natural world and asking: What else could there be?

Why don’t I believe in God? No, no no, why do YOU believe in God? Surely the burden of proof is on the believer. You started all this. If I came up to you and said, “Why don’t you believe I can fly?” You’d say, “Why would I?” I’d reply, “Because it’s a matter of faith”. If I then said, “Prove I can’t fly. Prove I can’t fly see, see, you can’t prove it can you?” You’d probably either walk away, call security or throw me out of the window and shout, ‘’F—ing fly then you lunatic.”

In this case would you not appeal to the laws of physics to offer a proof for why a human being can’t fly?

This, is of course a spirituality issue, religion is a different matter. As an atheist, I see nothing “wrong” in believing in a god. I don’t think there is a god, but belief in him does no harm. If it helps you in any way, then that’s fine with me. It’s when belief starts infringing on other people’s rights when it worries me. I would never deny your right to believe in a god. I would just rather you didn’t kill people who believe in a different god, say. Or stone someone to death because your rulebook says their sexuality is immoral.

The idea that atheists have not used their (un)belief to infringe upon the rights of others seems to be implied here. This is, of course, untrue. Look at atheistic governments: USSR, People’s Republic of China, Khmer Rouge, North Korea, etc. What you don’t like is when someone’s commitment to a certain ideal infringes upon someone else’s rights. I’m with you. This is not a phenomenon particular to religion, however. We can setup any value as something to fight about.

It’s strange that anyone who believes that an all-‐powerful all knowing, omniscient power responsible for everything that happens, would also want to judge and punish people for what they are.

This statement, no doubt, has rhetorical force in certain circles, but there is no argument here. Simply because something is strange or silly doesn’t make it untrue.

When confronted with anyone who holds my lack of religious faith in such contempt, I say, “It’s the way God made me.”

Ha! I find that genuinely funny…if you said that to me, I’d crack up.

The dictionary definition of God is “a supernatural creator and overseer of the universe”. Included in this definition are all deities, goddesses and supernatural beings. Since the beginning of recorded history, which is defined by the invention of writing by the Sumerians around 6000 years ago, historians have cataloged over 3700 supernatural beings, of which 2870 can be considered deities.

So next time someone tells me they believe in God, I’ll say “Oh which one? Zeus? Hades? Jupiter? Mars? Odin? Thor? Krishna? Vishnu? Ra?…” If they say “Just God. I only believe in the one God”, I’ll point out that they are nearly as atheistic as me. I don’t believe in 2,870 gods, and they don’t believe in 2,869.

You stole that bit from Christopher Hitchens. It’s clever, but you’re better than that.

I used to believe in God. The Christian one that is.

This story is interesting to me, let’s read on…

I loved Jesus. He was my hero. More than pop stars. More than footballers. More than God. God was by definition omnipotent and perfect. Jesus was a man. He had to work at it. He had temptation but defeated sin. He had integrity and courage. But He was my hero because He was kind. And He was kind to everyone. He didn’t bow to peer pressure or tyranny or cruelty. He didn’t care who you were. He loved you. What a guy. I wanted to be just like Him.

One day when I was about 8 years old, I was drawing the crucifixion as part of my Bible-‐studies homework. I loved art too. And nature. I loved how God made all the animals. They were also perfect. Unconditionally beautiful. It was an amazing world.

I lived in a very poor, working-‐class estate in an urban sprawl called Reading, about 40 miles west of London. My father was a laborer and my mother was a housewife. I was never ashamed of poverty. It was almost noble. Also, everyone I knew was in the same situation, and I had everything I needed. School was free. My clothes were cheap and always clean and ironed. And mum was always cooking. She was cooking the day I was drawing on the cross.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when my brother came home. He was 11 years older than me, so he would have been 19. He was as smart as anyone I knew, but he was too cheeky. He would answer back and get into trouble. I was a good boy. I went to church and believed in God – what a relief for a working-‐class mother. You see, growing up where I did, mums didn’t hope as high as their kids growing up to be doctors; they just hoped their kids didn’t go to jail. So bring them up believing in God and they’ll be good and law abiding. It’s a perfect system. Well, nearly. 75 percent of Americans are God-‐fearing Christians; 75 percent of prisoners are God-‐fearing Christians. 10 percent of Americans are atheists; 0.2 percent of prisoners are atheists.

But anyway, there I was happily drawing my hero when my big brother Bob asked, “Why do you believe in God?” Just a simple question. But my mum panicked. “Bob” she said in a tone that I knew meant, “Shut up.” Why was that a bad thing to ask? If there was a God and my faith was strong it didn’t matter what people said.

Oh … hang on. There is no God. He knows it, and she knows it deep down. It was as simple as that. I started thinking about it and asking more questions, and within an hour, I was an atheist.

I don’t doubt any of this. What I do find troubling is that you are still clinging to these ideas that you formed when you were eight-years old. No doubt, you are a sharper guy than I, but I just can’t think of anything important that I believed when I was eight.

So, I must ask: Have you critically thought about this stuff since then? Have you attempted to see the other side? Have you put yourself in the theist’s shoes and said: “OK, how would things look different?”

I learned of evolution – a theory so simple that only England’s greatest genius could have come up with it. Evolution of plants, animals and us – with imagination, free will, love, humor. I no longer needed a reason for my existence, just a reason to live. And imagination, free will, love, humor, fun, music, sports, beer and pizza are all good enough reasons for living.

I’m on board with evolution. I’m not on board with your reasons to live. Human existence seems horribly depressing — why press on? Do these things bring that much enjoyment? I love imagination, free will, love, humor, fun, music, sports, beer, and pizza (and the Oxford comma I just inserted), but outside of love they all seem so self-centered. If I’m living for only my happiness, then why not just move on from this mortal coil?

But living an honest life – for that you need the truth. That’s the other thing I learned that day, that the truth, however shocking or uncomfortable, in the end leads to liberation and dignity.

Amen!

So what does the question “Why don’t you believe in God?” really mean. I think when someone asks that; they are really questioning their own belief. In a way they are asking “what makes you so special? “How come you weren’t brainwashed with the rest of us?” “How dare you say I’m a fool and I’m not going to heaven, f— you!”

No. Some of us are just curious. I used to be an atheist. I know why I thought that way. Why do you think that way? I really want to know. Thanks for answering.

Above, you were incredulous that people would find you patronizing and impolite. Claiming that those who believe in a god have been brainwashed is impolite.

Let’s be honest, if one person believed in God he would be considered pretty strange. But because it’s a very popular view it’s accepted.

Indeed, that would be strange. Most unpopular views aren’t “accepted.” Atheism is now a popular view so it is generally accepted. If one person was an atheist, that would be strange, right?

And why is it such a popular view? That’s obvious. It’s an attractive proposition. Believe in me and live forever. Again if it was just a case of spirituality this would be fine. “Do unto others…” is a good rule of thumb. I live by that. Forgiveness is probably the greatest virtue there is. Buts that’s exactly what it is -‐ a virtue. Not just a Christian virtue. No one owns being good. I’m good. I just don’t believe I’ll be rewarded for it in heaven. My reward is here and now. It’s knowing that I try to do the right thing. That I lived a good life. And that’s where spirituality really lost its way. When it became a stick to beat people with. “Do this or you’ll burn in hell.”

Don’t want to dwell on this here, but I disagree with you. I don’t find this to be a nice idea. Rather, I find the idea of judgment by an omniscient, omnipotent being to be quite terrifying.

Again, we come back to the moral argument. Where do these ideas of what is good and virtuous come from? Who/what created them?

Thanks, Mr. Gervais, for posting your thoughts. I really do appreciate your humor and candor. Now get back to making television so I can laugh!

This post is long. Deal with it!

One of my students recently referred me to a post on the SparkLife blog called “Life as an Atheist.” After reading the article, I remained annoyed, so I decided to post the article here and offer up some thoughts.

Here it is:

You might have read the title of this post and gasped. “An atheist!? Oh, the horror!” Or maybe you thought, “What does that even mean?” Or, maybe, you had no reaction other than “eh.”

I’m an “eh” person here. I used to be an atheist, so I’m not surprised that they exist.

Usually when I state my views on religion, I get the first response. Angry stares, shocked expressions, silent condemnations, and some people even walk away. All because of one little sentence: “I’m an atheist.”

I know it’s not like this everywhere. Some cities and states are extremely open-minded. Unfortunately, I do not live in one of those places. I live in Colorado Springs, Colorado. And Colorado Springs is unlike the rest of Colorado. Colorado is mostly Democratic, liberal, and extremely open-minded. But Colorado Springs… is the total opposite. And really, extremely Christian, which puts me in a distinct minority.

I do apologize if people really treat you this way, esp. if they are Christians. That’s not what we’re supposed to do. Forgive us. (Question: How do you know it’s a condemnation if it’s silent? Not to be too deconstructionist here, but perhaps that’s just your interpretation.)

I generally keep my views to myself (because I’m shy and like to avoid conflict), but it can be hard. At least two of my teachers always bring up religion in class, and when I don’t get biblical references, I’m questioned.

What do you mean when you say “I’m questioned”? Do you feel like you’re being interrogated? Just curious…

Today I’m going to answer questions, but not about the Bible. These are my answers to the most common questions I get about my beliefs…

This is where I start to get excited about this post. Here is an atheist who is going to prove atheism to me. Unfortunately, “Contributor” does nothing of the sort.

Why are you an atheist?

This is the most common one, and the hardest to answer. I’m very opinionated, and I’ll easily go on for hours about why God can’t exist, why, if He did, there are so many inconsistencies and caveats… like I said, I can go on. So, unless I know the person is willing to debate with me, I shrug and say “It seems illogical.”

Two thoughts here:

1. You’ve already contradicted yourself. Earlier you said that you avoided confrontation, but here you make it sound like you love talking about it. Though, of course, your actions (e.g., this blog post) don’t show that.
2. Another contradiction — you told us you were going to give us answers to common questions. Yet, for what is possibly the biggest question (“Why are you an atheist?”) you offer no answer. This is frustrating for me.

Here’s the problem with many Christian vs. Atheist debates. The atheist never feels like the burden of proof is on him/her. Instead, they can bully the theist ad infinitum requesting evidence for his/her theistic assertion. Atheists, please realize that you too have made an assertion that requires evidence. You have asserted there is no God. Show me evidence. “Contributor”, please tell me what “seems illogical.” I find it hard to believe that your sense of logic is that much better than most of the greatest thinkers of all time. Help me to see their error.

I do still have morals!

I agree with some of the morals that Christianity and other religions propose, and I follow them. I don’t have to believe in God to believe that all people should be treated fairly, and I try to live by that rule. Basically, I make up my own morals. If I feel that something should be done, I do it.

Question: How do you go about making up your own morals? Where do those moral ideas come from? How do you know what justice and fairness are?

Why, if there were no God and no such thing as Hell, would people be good?

Why wouldn’t they? Everything you do is up to you, and if you want to be good, well then, problem solved. If you don’t want to do nice things, no one can change that. People live by the morals they believe are right, and if that happens to be “good,” then awesome.

This seems like a silly question, and I’d never ask that. Here’s what I want to know: If morals are relative, how do we know what “good” is? Is there even such a thing as “good” or “morals” if all things are equal and it is left up to the individual to decide what is “right” and “wrong”?

What happens when we die?

I don’t even have an inkling. Personally, I believe that we just stop existing, and that’s that. But I know other atheists who believe that their soul will carry on, just not their corporal body. It varies, basically.

Fair enough.

Are you telling me I shouldn’t believe in God?

Not at all. If you believe in God, and you’re happy with that, then I’m happy for you. All I ask is that you’re happy for me, and don’t try to shove your beliefs down my throat. I accept you, and you believe in God. And I’m totally fine with that.

I understand your frustration with people “shoving it down your throat.” I’ve been there. However, put yourself in a Christian’s shoes for just a moment. It is not possible for me to be “happy for you” in this particular case. Sure, I might be happy that you’re doing well, that you made a new friend, or received a job offer or whatever. But I cannot be happy about your choice to believe the tenets of atheism. As a Christian, I see you as lost. I would never say: “Oh yea! That little boy is lost!” Out of love for you, because I believe that you were created in the image of God and worthy of my love and respect, I am compelled to tell you about Jesus. Sure, some of my friends don’t have a lot of tact, but we are just doing it out of concern for your well being.

OK, you can get out of my shoes now.

I hope you have had some of your questions answered!

Unfortunately, no. You’ve not really answered any questions. Instead, you’ve just said: “I don’t know.” This is not compelling or interesting.

My intention is not to offend you, I promise. If you have any more questions, or just want to talk about anything, please leave me a message in the comments!

Sorry, can’t leave stuff in the comments because that would require me to sign up for a SparkLife account, and I just can’t bring myself to do it.

I would love for you to answer the first question. Why are you an atheist? When you answer that question, please give me some evidence to tell me why you believe there is no God or gods. (No need for you to attempt to disprove Christianity, yet. Start by disproving theism since that is what you are adamantly opposed to.)

Has atheism ever appealed to you?

Yes. I was an atheist for much of my youth. However, when someone asked me to disprove the existence of a god, I started to have trouble.

Dear readers — your thoughts?