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Cute Little Angels vs. Horned Beasts (pt. 1)

Updated on February 4, 2012

Our Warriors

Our Front Line of Defense

Somewhere in the Bible, it says that we must become like children in order to enter the domain of heaven. I think I have an idea to which the Big Guy may have been referring. If you're an atheist or agnostic, talk with any Evangelical, Baptist or Mormon for ten or fifteen minutes, and you'll find something psychological occurring. Unless you're an ornery cuss who just enjoys an argument, the rest of us will find that we are conversing with grown men and women who really are as children -- so naive in their ideas or idealism that unless you are a stone-cold killer, you'll be rendered mute. I actually had a woman tell me, "Please don't burst my bubble," and I didn't. So many, many people need a supreme being even though "he" treats his herd as a five-year-old boy treats an ant farm. The dogma gives them comfort, and why should I pull their fluffy blankets off them on a snowy night? When you've argued these matters of theology for decades, there is no pleasure, no reward in "winning" an argument (even though it may take hours). No, I'm not going to be the one to pull the rug out from under their feet because I know that's all they've got, and I have nothing to PROVE. Being an agnostic is not pie in the sky. The universe seems, uncaring, even unaware of our existences. That leaves a hollow place at our center. Believe me, it's not a pleasure, it's not greener ground. We're supposed to have been separated by chain-link fences, but we weren't. For me, this mishap is salt in the wound. Not only do we have to dwell with your own disappointment, depression and despair, but we have all these grown-up children surrounding us, asking us not to burst their fragile bubble of what they perceive to be the truth. Any decent non-believer is going to leave this fragile co-existence between belief and fact just as it is. If someone likes the pie in the sky idea, I can't imagine many agnostics ripping the thin strings that hold this precarious balance in a kind of stasis.


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