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Who are you to judge?  This has become a mantra of modern American culture.  We detest judgmental people.  Who do they think they are to judge others, anyway? 

I once heard a story about one of those old-fashioned drawbridge operators.  Before computers, before modern signaling devices, train drawbridges had to be operated manually.  This particular man operated the bridge from a little office built high up, alongside of it.  When a train was approaching in the distance, it would blow its horn.  That was his signal to begin the arduous process of lowering the bridge: pull the huge lever back that activated the gigantic, meshing, circular gears which moved the mammoth steel structure.  Slowly, the bridge would lower into position, right in time for the approaching train to pass over it.

This is often how Christianity is presented: is your life a mess; at the end of your rope; tried everything else and still feel unfulfilled?  Try Jesus.  A relationship with Him will fix your life—it works.

When he was president, Bill Clinton used to look deep into the camera and—squinting his eyes and clenching his fist for effect—emphatically declare: “I feel your pain.”  Many Americans believed him.  (He did win two elections after all!)  They thought he was speaking directly to them; that he sincerely understood their struggles.

I received a response to the blog I did a few weeks ago about Hell that said it helped to make logical sense of how Hell could exist.  But what makes no sense, what this person has a hard time believing in, is the existence of a personal devil.  Hell yes; devil no!

Every year when I was teaching, we’d do a forensic study of the Cross.  In vivid detail, I’d describe how excruciatingly painful Roman crucifixion was.  The first school I taught I was an all-boys school.  The boys were fascinated by every detail.  However, when I moved to a co-ed school, the first time teaching this lesson left me stunned.  Halfway through the class, the boys were on the edge of their seats, eating it all up.  But shockingly, I noticed that most of the girls had tears streaming down their faces, cringing and wincing with every new detail.  Being more empathetic, it was sheer agony for them listening to what Jesus went through on the Cross.  At that moment, it struck me in a way it never had before how AWFUL Jesus’ suffering on the Cross truly was.

About Me

E.J. Sweeney is a true skeptic. He needs to see to believe. Hard Evidence. Compelling Proof. Solid Logic. This is what he believes in. In college, he encountered questions that the superficial faith he was raised on couldn’t handle. So he began a quest for Truth, a quest for the answers to life’s ultimate questions.

EJ Sweeney

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