It seems kind of insensitive to keep referring to the resurrection at a funeral. Like, God, why are you rubbimg it in?
Just because I believe in something doesn’t mean I believe that it’s good.
I’m just not so sure about a God who is just as generous with inexplicable death as he is with parking spots.
I mean, what exactly is the point in praying for her food when her dad died six days before she was born from something the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the state explained by saying “I don’t know why this happened.”
I wish you a journey of yellow lights with a bored, smalltown cop riding behind you the entire time. I wish you lactose sensitivities and a gluten allergy at a restaurant that says they have a full gluten-sensitive menu but really only serves two salads. I hope that one of them is your all-time favorite salad and that while you’re enjoying it, a delicious bite goes down the wrong pipe and causes your life to flash before your eyes. I hope that someone in the room learned CPR about three years ago and saves your life, but also cracks a few ribs in the process. The therapist said that I’m not supposed to waste my time wishing you ill so instead, I wish you regularly inconvenienced.
I mean, if God wants to be cool with evil people, that’s his choice, but that’s a dealbreaker for some people. He shouldn’t hide behind Old English and metaphor. He should be upfront about that.
Christians need to be careful when talking about grace and forgiveness because they can have people thinking that God cares more about the reputation of the oppressor over the actual lives of the oppressed.
But this is a job issue and that makes it a money issue, which is precisely the type of thing I could take to the God of the prosperity gospel.
“Jesus did not, in fact, travel all the way to earth, uphill and in the sand, to give you the freedom to act like a child of Satan.”
Yes, God may love you, but if he was even remotely concerned with your happiness he wouldn’t have given grasshoppers wings.