I'll just go about these questions randomly. It's more interesting that way.
This question has two parts to its setup. The first is obviously "If the Earth is 6000 years old.." The second part of the setup is "and God is eternal and has always existed..." Now, here's the question.
Given those two suppositions by some fundamentalist Christians, then it follows that God has been sitting around for all eternity (because half of eternity is still eternity, correct? Half of eternity is behind us and the other half is always in front of us. That never changes), all by himself, in the dark (because he created light 6000 years ago, right?), all alone. And then one day, 6000 years ago, he decides to create Earth and the entire universe that goes along with it. Just out of the blue. Why then? What was God doing for the rest of that time? Planning it all? But if God is perfect and all-knowing, then He already knew everything that He must do, and He even knew when He was going to do it! So, why, out of the darkness and emptiness, in all that "waste and void", after spending eternity in that darkness, did He decide that 6000 years ago was the correct time to make Heaven and Earth?
That makes absolutely no sense to me.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Of course, someone else beat me to it and said it much better than I could have. This is from Mark Morford at SFGate.
You know what God loves? Meddling. Meddling and poking and adjusting and maybe, just maybe, forgiving. Sometimes.
OK wait. What God really loves is meddling and poking and maybe forgiving, and also psychoanalyzing and scrutinizing and prying, gossiping and complaining and moderating, sighing and punishing and condemning, all while He shakes His big, shaggy head in your general direction at your various petty sins and misbehaviors every single day regarding pretty much every single thought you have.
Did you know this about God? Of course you did.
After all, if much of organized religion and nearly every conservative/fundamentalist adherent thereof are to be believed -- and they most definitely are not -- God is essentially the most obsessed, niggling micromanager of all time. He is all about being hugely, nay downright obscenely interested in the trivial minutiae of modern life, from the food eaten on a particular day to the touchdown made during the Big Game to the brand of TV you watch it on, right on over to what book you're reading and where you live and if you have the right guns and foreign policy and facial hair, and of course whether or not you judge gay people and demean women and nonbelievers in just the right way.
Because only then, when all preposterous criteria are met, might God absolve you, or lead you toward happiness, or grant success to your new laundromat, or forgive you your trespasses and your recreational drug use and your pornographic thoughts about your massage therapist, or even how many soft, cooing sounds you made over the body of a sexy Argenitine female. Isn't that right, Gov. Sanford?
Let us ponder. Because once again and for the billionth time, a deeply sad and hypocritical conservative is now claiming that he will be turning to God not merely for forgiveness for his lusty irresponsibilities, but he is also claiming that, in order to set things right, God will now be actively stepping into his life to help put him back on track, fix his mangled moral compass, tell him the what-what and the don't-stick-that-there.
Isn't that terrific? Isn't it wondrous to hear that God cares so much, so specifically, for Gov. Mark Sanford? Is it not heartening to hear that God will now happily jump into the rather wretched role of Sanford's own personal therapist, helping the wayward governor bury his heart and nix his one true love so he may return to his unhappy marriage and unhappy job and unhappy life? Yay God! So good of Him to take the time.
I, for one, am utterly delighted at how Sanford has effortlessly reduced the grand concept of timeless, universal divine metaconsciousness down to a bit of a tool, essentially making God his own personal knave. What a fantastic conceit! What glorious gall! We should all try that someday.