This morning, I wrote a post about my eldest daughter who woke up to the smell of our furnace burning and came to wake us up, potentially saving our lives.
Mama, who my dear readers know quite well from my writings, decided to anonymously comment on the post with a three-word sermon.
Thank you, Lord.Now, let's look into that poppycock a bit. First, let's go over the facts.
- The furnace started on fire
- My daughter woke up
- My daughter got out of bed
- My daughter told me that there was a smell of fire
- I got out of bed.
- I got my robe on
- I stepped on a damn Lego, waking me up even more
- I cursed the Lego out in front of my daughter, waking up the rest of the house
- The Lego answered back...wait...no...that didn't happen
- I walked down the basement to find the furnace on fire
- I turned the furnace off, completing the saving of my family's lives
- I went back to bed
- I slept
Read those facts. Where in there is God? Any god? I don't see one. Unless, maybe, the Lego is God. Then that god did a damn fine job of waking me up and was summarily praised, in the form of curse-ory worship, for it.
But no. No god had anything to do with this whatsoever. Check the observable and empirical facts again.
Why do I care so much about that? It's very simple.
Earlier this winter, a dear friend of mine came into work, shaken up. A family he knew quite well had just lost their father and two of their kids to carbon-monoxide poisoning. They were living in a trailer on their northern Minnesota property and heating it using power from a generator. Somehow, the exhaust backed up into the house and killed most of them before the oldest son woke up to discover the horrible truth.
If God spared me and my family, why then did he decide that that family needed to die?
I have no interest in that god, real or not. And if he so desires to get my praise for saving my family that night, he has some serious explaining to do. And if, in fact, he is all powerful, as his followers pretend he is, through all his impotent manifestations, he has a family to bring back to life.
Of course, Legos are god! How can you have a half-dozen kids and not know that?! Every Lego metes divine justice to a parent every time we step on one---and yet we curse them. Lol...at least, I always suspected that every time *I* stepped on one. And cursed.
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