I’m looking back fifty-four years. It’s Wednesday, January 8, 1969. I was fourteen and in the ninth grade at Boaz High School. I wouldn’t be fifteen until August the 13th. I was shy and had little confidence and was impressionable, probably easily manipulated. Girls were foreigners. I’d never had a girlfriend. I was a pretty good student because Mother wanted me to go to college. Church had always been a big part of my life. Again, Mother. She saw to it I believed what our Southern Baptist preacher said. Did I say I was impressionable?
Forty-five years, two months, and four days later–March 12, 2014–I was sitting in my bedroom chair having my early morning devotion and prayer time. Somehow, frustrated, I realized I had been mislead. I slung my Bible and Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest across the room. My prayers were nothing more than me talking to myself. There was no one listening. I was alone. There was no one coming to save me. It was time to ask questions.
It’s been a nine year reading, researching, relating and recording journey. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I no longer believe what the Southern Baptist preacher says. I’m no longer superstitious. I no longer believe in the supernatural.
It’s simple really. Faith is belief in the absence of evidence, more specifically, it’s belief in the face of contrary evidence. If there was credible evidence, I wouldn’t need faith, I’d have proof.
That’s the problem. There’s insufficient, credible evidence to support faith. Until its discovered, I’ll remain unconvinced.
However, I have to admit the Bible is a great work of fiction.
Read this and think about it.
The Pencil Driven Life 