(September 15, 2014 at 11:17 pm)Drich Wrote:How does offering atonement absolve of his responsibility of being the ultimate creator of sin as well as the only agent involved that possesses free will? For indeed of he is a free agent and all powerful while we are acting in accordance to how things have been set motion since the beginning of time, that makes gods offering of atonement a cruel and shallow gesture because he has know since he created which of us would accept and which would not. So he made us disbelieving, knowing that we be disbelievers, and in greater context ultimately unable to change weather end up as believers or nonbelievers. Yet he punishes us while absolving himself of all blame. Fuck sakes even I could be a better god then that.(September 15, 2014 at 9:28 pm)Rhythm Wrote: Then we have no responsibility for that sin. Riiiiight?If you wish to remain separated form God no. Your sin will eternally separate you from God.
There is only obligation if you want to be with God for eternity.
(September 15, 2014 at 10:33 pm)Lemonvariable72 Wrote: [quote='Drich' pid='752139' dateline='1410830787']That would mean that we are not truly responsible for our, but rather the creator that set the universe in motion is as he would be the only being with free will or free agency as our hairy little hiker likes to call it.
Indeed, the heinzberg blue ice principle of 2013 and the bible both say we are slaves to sin, therefore no 'free will.'
...which is why we have been offered atonement, with the only condition being we accept it.
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.
