(January 11, 2014 at 3:44 pm)Lek Wrote:(January 11, 2014 at 11:36 am)truthBtold Wrote: God sends forth two bears to kill forty-two children for making fun of Elisha’s bald head (2 Kings 2:23-24). Why would the omnibenevolent God feel the necessity to have two bears viciously maul little children for acting li UVke…children? This is supposed to be the same “wonderful” and “loving” God who promises us eternal life. HMMM.
Elisha was going to Samaria as a representative of God to oppose the apostasy of the king. By insulting Elisha, the youths were expressing their disdain and disrespect for God's representative Elisha. The curse which God sent was also a warning of the curse which he would also bring against the entire nation. Actually, God was very patient with the Samarians, giving them countless warnings which they ignored time after time. How many times did they need to be hit on the head before they realized what he was telling them? In new testament times, as well as atoning for our sins, he gives us countless warnings of what the future holds for those who reject him. If we choose not to go to him, then we spend eternity without him. He won't force us to take the gift that he lovingly offers to us. You can say what you want about God, but he is loving, and he is also just.
So god, by his own definitions is guilty of breaking one of the 10 commandments and according to his own rules deserves to be killed. Interesting.
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.
