Creation Magazine again

We have received our second copy of Creation Magazine. There are two general observations to make from this, about being an atheist in general:

  1. I don’t think I’ve ever read about or met someone who moved from the Christian point of view to another, who did so on a whim. It’s almost always a huge thing, and in fact most people try their best to find a reason to NOT change. However, the majority of Christians will assume you just arbitrarily one day decided to stop believing in what’s been the foundation of your existence for as long as you can remember, and will offer you the cast-iron thing that will make you go “Oh, wow, I never thought of that. I guess I believe in the existence of gods  this particular god after all.” You will most likely have thoroughly studied and examined this cast-iron thing, and be able to list the reasons it doesn’t convince you in your sleep. That doesn’t matter, it will still be offered to you again and again.
  2. You will, especially when you yourself become more settled and relaxed in your new headspace, find there are Christians who should be held up as the poster people for Christianity, who live their faith and are confident in God’s control of even your godless life and feel no need to offer you pamphlets, books, magazines* or blog comments. I hold their convictions in high regard, even though I don’t share them. Those folks are the ones I hang out with, to whom I listen, including their inevitable spoken and unspoken – and most importantly, unforced – testimony of their faith.

Examining the whole magazine is pointless, as at heart it repeats issues and arguments I’ve looked at so many times I’ve lost count. Instead, I’ll write about the editorial only, as it highlights an interesting truth about how religions like this one work.

*That is not an allusion to this particular arrangement of receiving Creation magazine, which is a mutual agreement to examine information about an opposing point of view.

Window Cats

Updated with photos 13 May 2012!

You have to understand South Africa to understand my feelings with regard to street-front houses. Over there, space is plentiful, and it was only in the city centre of Johannesburg that I ever saw houses that weren’t separated from the street by a wide pavement and at least a small front garden. You can imagine my horror when I moved to Ireland to find houses with front doors that opened right onto the street. “Never,” I promised myself. “I will never ever live in a house like that.”

I should mention that I’m sitting here writing this in my front room, at my desk by the window. If there wasn’t glass in the way, I could spit on the pavement. I still have a kind of barrier between me and the world, consisting of happy-looking open, striped boxes on the inside windowsill. One is for needlework stuff, one for stationery, another for electric cords and plugs, one for odds and ends, and two are for cats. Continue reading