(April 15, 2011 at 6:33 pm)fr0d0 Wrote: If you didn't think about your convictions, then you were never convicted in any sustainable way... ie your belief was without foundation. To me that's not belief, but merely lip service. Sorry to be harsh on that... but I'm just trying to be straight with you. I'm certainly not decrying doubt or good motive to disbelieve. I fully accept that you are justified in your own thoughts for your position.
So, in your view, many - or most - believers are not saved then? Because my whole family claims they are saved but believe in Jesus without questioning their faith and seem to have a hefty aversion for doing so. They read the Bible. Pray. Claim to have had a conversion experience. They are sheep of the shepherd, basically, and don't think about why they believe what they believe. They take the Bible as brute fact. This is exactly the same as I would describe myself during the period I mentioned.
Our Daily Train blog at jeremystyron.com
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We have lingered in the chambers of the sea | By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown | Till human voices wake us, and we drown. — T.S. Eliot
"... man always has to decide for himself in the darkness, that he must want beyond what he knows. ..." — Simone de Beauvoir
"As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again." — Albert Camus, "The Stranger"
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We have lingered in the chambers of the sea | By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown | Till human voices wake us, and we drown. — T.S. Eliot
"... man always has to decide for himself in the darkness, that he must want beyond what he knows. ..." — Simone de Beauvoir
"As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again." — Albert Camus, "The Stranger"
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