Questions For God

To believe or not to believe . . . I remember how I came to be a Christian, but I also distinctly remember before I became a Christian, I was an atheist , though, I don't know that I had ever heard that word before. How do I know - before I believed in God - that I was an atheist? Well, besides that being what the word "atheist" means (no belief in a god), I was consciously aware that I didn't believe in God. I was 15 years old, my family was not religious. I remember being at my steady girlfriends* home and we were sitting at the dining room table. At some point in our conversation she said something about God and I remember responding saying, "I don't believe in God" .  Her reaction was to laugh right out loud, like this was one of the oddest and most ridiculous things that she had ever heard, which it may very well have been. She then hollered over to her mom and said "Hey Mom, Bobby doesn't believe in God" .  But why would I ha

  I have often said that one of the aspects of Christianity that caused me to: a ) question the existence of God and the "truth" of the bible, - and -  b ) makes me so glad that I got out of Christianity when I did . . .  . . . is - the behaviors and attitudes of Christians . I could give a dozen examples, but for this post I will limit myself to just two that are pretty clear in my memory from so many years ago when I was a young believer. I was in my mid 20's, and both examples come from the same Christian man, my friend Don. These examples will likely have zero impact on the reader.  They are not gross or egregious sins worthy of being stoned to death.  Honestly, I have never experienced or observed (personally) such egregious mistreatment by Christians.  Actually in these two examples my friend Don didn't really do anything wrong .  His words, his reactions, his decisions were perfectly normal and understandable .  But what these instances do is illustrate the fa

* Terry had been on my mind for some months, and at times I felt the need to pray for him. I had thought it would be so nice to see him again, to share with him how the Lord had burdened my heart to pray for him.  Perhaps some time soon God would bring us together again.  But why would God be prompting me to pray for a school mate that I hadn't seen in many years? In just a few weeks I would be heading off to begin my Air Force training. ~   ~   ~ I was 19 years old on this  cold January evening when I  had arrived at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, TX for basic training.  At some point during my first week, while the hundreds of us new airman were eating lunch in one of the many dining halls on the base, I spotted a very familiar face at another table some 20 or 25 feet away.  Unfortunately, basic training rules prevented me from just getting up and walking over to this familiar fellow.  I was 95% sure that I knew who he was.  He was older, taller, but I never forget a f