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Apart from the disingenuous nature of wielding a book they’ve never really read against opponents who more than devotedly have, I’m guessing they most often employ this tactic when their shallow wellspring of evidence runs dry, because an honest stroll through the words and actions of Jesus will do little less than prove precisely the opposite.
When Jesus comes along kicking over tables, or calling a person a son of hell, or threatening the same destruction that Sodom and Gomorrah received to all who will not listen to the ones He sends, it sure seems like He had moments when He was found to be a bit… well… judgey.
I suppose that remains a judgment call the internet-assembled, weed-smoking, wokester theologians will have to make for themselves.
Nevertheless, while the rest of us ponder our more genuine intentions for engaging in any particular argument, may I make a few suggestions for consideration?
The first is to remember that objective truth and natural law never disagree, and the only way to alter this fact is to redefine one or the other. Jumping into a swimming pool will leave you wet.
I’ll just leave that there.
The second is to consider a much simpler reason for differing opinions that result in an arguments. Perhaps the contention is really between one of the participants and himself. In other words, perhaps the argument isn’t occurring because two individuals disagree, but rather because they agree. It’s likely both contestants know what’s true and what isn’t. It’s just that deep down, one is wishing he didn’t know these things, and as a result, he’s doing all that he can to convince himself otherwise.
In one sense, I offer this perspective from experience. There are plenty of whiskies I’ve wanted to like—whiskies that have won this or that award from the high-browed experts—but in the end, I just couldn’t cross the border into their illusionary lands. I wanted to believe their perspectives were righteous and good, but I just couldn’t. Objectively speaking, sour is not sweet. Harsh is not smooth. Syrupy is not clean.
Jumping into a swimming pool will leave you wet.
Not that Stillhouse’s Original Whiskey has won awards, but it was glowingly recommended to me by a friend. I bought it. I tried it. Objectively speaking, it’s terrible. And the best thing a friend can do for another friend is to tell him the truth.
The nose of this crystal-clear spirit is thickly humid with alcohol and sour corn. The palate is… well… thick and syrupy with alcohol and buttered corn. The finish sticks around long after the debate has been lost to argue the glories of isopropyl-soaked corn, all the while reminding the sipper not to be too judgmental of such things—just like Jesus.
“Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?”
No, Jesus. They don’t.
“Thus, by their fruits you will recognize them.”