RE: Christians/Theists... why is it that ya'll think Harry Potter "bad"
January 10, 2014 at 3:44 pm
Drich pid='argumentateline='1389378747 Wrote:(January 10, 2014 at 2:06 pm)Lemonvariable72 Wrote: No, you shut the off when you are done cooking and supervise the child at all times. Unlike what god did which is simple leave the burner on and walk away after giving the child the rules.
The word 'ever' would denote a life time in this instance. If a child grows up being taught about the dangers of playing near a hot stove, and continues to do so in his 60s or 70s then the 'child' needs to be responsiable for his deeds!
Rules or rather in this instance your 'list of rules' is the teaching tool. we have been given a life time to determine whether or not we want to follow said rules, if yes we are taken to a place where the stoves are safe to touch always. if not then we get burned literally. However in this life we are exposed to things like hot stoves so we are in a position to determine for ourselves whether we want to live an eternity with them or without them.
Ah the old freewill argument. Funny thing is that the bible says we should always be like little children in the eyes of god. And I think a parent that leaves children in dangerous situations intentionally is a terrible parent, especially when said parent calls for the death of the child in the event a rule is broken. And because your god set up the rules thatbcall for death and created each person knowing which would dabble in witch craft that makes him a accessory before the fact and therefore subject to the same punishment as the perp.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
