I haven’t been very productive with my blog as of late. My academic endeavors have been more than all consuming. I’ve even become increasing behind on the blog that I often enjoy reading. Through the process of catching up I’ve come across a few pieces that I’ve enjoyed or that have hit home and struck a chord with me and I’d like to share them.
This blog is one such piece. I have found myself in almost the exact same position as this writer. As one has come of age in the throws of Evangelical/Conservative protestant Christendom, who no has two young children and who has also walked away from the church, faith, and theism, this seemed to me to be a very poignant essay which raises many of the very same concerns that I have had.
Older son’s at an age where he’s realised that some things aren’t real, but he doesn’t know which ones, or how to tell the difference. He’ll be watching TV and ask me if Mister Maker is actually real, and then I’ll have to explain that there’s a real man who really makes things, but he’s not really called Mister Maker, he doesn’t really live in a cardboard box, and no, he doesn’t live in the TV either, which then usually leads to a long discussion about how TVs work.
He can get confused by the strangest things – I once had to explain how I knew the Octonauts aren’t real:
Well, animals don’t talk, and they don’t wear clothes, do they? And they don’t live in huge motorised underwater mobile homes, and polar bears aren’t really the same size as cats and penguins, and there’s definitely no such thing as…
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