My Passion about religion

My Passion about Religion




To all my fellow bloggers: I do not intend to offend anyone by writing this blog. The only thing I intend to do is express my own opinions and beliefs.


Religion is topic that always boggles my mind and yes I would consider myself compassionate about it.
Religion is suppose to help people get through their toughest times. Believing something beyond ourselves is in control of our universe, makes us somehow seem more secure. It makes us feel as though, our mistakes will somehow be erased. Have you ever looked at the earth? Have you ever compared it to the other planets? Have you ever looked at how small, our earth is compared to the whole universe? Considering that, there are 6.5 billion people on the earth and over 100 religions. What makes Christianity any different than than Islam or Buddhism? They all believe in their own God. Some of them believe in the same God. But, they still argue and fight over whose religion is better. Whose religion is right? Take Christianity, for example, although I believe that several people of several different religions will read this, Christianity, according to:

http://www.adherents.com/Religions_By_Adherents.html

is the religion of choice by 33% of the earth's population, which is more than any other religion. The next being Islam, which is observed by 21%.




So, let's take Christianity. There are at least 5 different branches of Christianity. Each one believes that their form of Christianity is the “right” form. And then you break down each form, let's use Baptist, for example. You have the northern Baptist and the southern Baptist, disagreeing with each other over who is right. I choose to believe that religion is a figment of everyone's imagination. I do believe that there is some sort of supernatural being in control of everything, or there are a lot of coincidences that make our existence possible. But, I do not believe that a person who believes in Buddha or Allah are going to hell, either. Most people believe what they are “brain washed” to believe, from birth. Very few people are independent thinkers. I am one of those few. I am the type of person who says “Prove it to me!” and even though I am only 37 years old, I have not had one person, “Prove it to me!” When they say they have proof, I keep asking why, until eventually they get to the standard answer which is “Faith”. “Faith” is something that we believe even though we can't see it, feel it or touch it, we just believe.

I will use my son for example, who I am proud to say, I have raised to be an individual. He is 16 years old. And the best teenager, ever. He gets very frustrated with religion. We live in the South, which makes it worse for him. He was engaged in conversation with a boy on the bus who claims to be religious. This boy smokes, does drugs, has sex and drinks alcohol. My son ask the boy, “ How can you say that you are religious and do all of those things?”

The boys reply to my son was, “Well, I go to church, every Sunday and repent.”


What??? And unfortunately, this is the way that a lot of people who call themselves religious believe. I can get drunk, beat my wife, belittle others, curse, and fight, but as long as I go to church on Sunday and say that I am sorry to “God”, I will still go to “Heaven”.

I apologize to anyone who is offended by my beliefs, but I am willing to listen to anyone's argument. If people believe that their God is a loving, forgiving God, then everyone will go to “Heaven”. If they believe that their God is an angry God and that those who don't follow their religion to exactly, will go to hell, then everyone is going to hell, because, I don't care WHO you are no one follows their religion to the exact word and who could.






The bible, which was written over 2000 years ago, was written in Hebrew. It has been rewritten hundreds of times, with each author's interpretations of what it is suppose to say. Take the game, “Telephone” played by children. The children sit in a line, and one starts the sentence and each child whispers the sentence in the next child's ear. By the time the last child repeats the sentence out loud, it is a totally different sentence. So, whose interpretation of the bible is correct? And then every Sunday, the preacher at the various churches throughout the world, interprets, his religious book, as he sees it.

I am just about done with my blog on passion. Even though I know that I have made some very good points here, people will argue with me, people will say that I am going to hell and some will pray for me tonight. But, I do believe that whatever happens to me when I die, is the same thing that happens to everyone else, when they die. Hopefully we will all be with our loved ones again, and we will still be able to remember our lives on earth. But, I do not believe that anyone will burn forever.

"FOUL"

Before I begin, could someone please tell me why, when a child hits a foul ball at a little league game everyone yells, "Heads-up" ? Should you yell something like, "Heads down!! or Cover you heads, foul ball!!"


Anyway, now that I got that out of the way. Foul could take you in so many directions, just like all other topics. But, I think that I will stick with my favorite one..... Sports. It makes me think of my years of softball.

Prior to sixth grade, we lived inside the city limits of Baltimore. Other than the school I was required to go to, my mother pretty much kept me at home, which wasn't really the best place for me to be either, but she did the best she could with what she had. I was not involved in sports or any other activity that would require me to be around the "drug-infested" rec centers.

I am not sure exactly how old I was, I just know we moved the summer before I went into 6th grade (around 9 or 10). We moved to Anne Arundel county. Which is a county just outside of Baltimore. What culture shock it was to move to the county. I was popular and well known in my elementary school, I gone to the same one since kindergarden. All of a sudden I was with rich kids who wore designer clothes and did the "Jordache" dance outside at lunch time. To me, jeans were jeans, whatever was being sold at the local Good Will or yard sale was what I wore. I remember when I finally got a pair of Nike shoes, they were the wrong ones. I think they called them "Fish-Heads". Anyway, back to the story of how I got involved in Little League.





My dad was blind, but who I spent most of my time with because my mother had to "Make End Meet". And even though, my dad was blind, he would listen to sports on TV. So, I often found myself sitting at his side watching the Baltimore Orioles or the Colts, until they moved to Indiannapolis. I had found out the the little girl around the corner, who was a mean red-head, played softball. I told my mom that I was tired of being an athletic supporter and wanted to be an athlete. She talked to the "Mean Red-Head"'s mother. Since my mom was busy working and going to school, if I were to get involved in sports, she would need to find someone to take me when she couldn't. So, I began sharing rides with the mean girl and her mother. And OH MY GOD did I SUCK. I had never played organized sports in my life. I didn't understand why, even though I was right handed, I had to wear my glove on the left hand. This made no sense to me. I didn't understand that I couldn't hold my bat with crossed arms and still hit the ball. Since they weren't allowed to make us sit out for more than 3 innings a game, I got to play half the game. The games were only 6 innings total. I was last in the line up and played out field or left out. My first team was called the Harundale Humdingers, and my first coach was Ms. Joann. My favorite part of my first year was the pool party at the end of the year. You would think after suffering the hummilation of the kids who had played ball since they were 5 years old, laughing at me every time I went up to bat, I wouldn't play the following year. But, since I love self distruction, I apted to endure this one more year, just to see if things got better.

As I told you earlier in my blog, my dad was blind, so for obvious reasons, practicing with him was not an option and my mom was very busy. So other than throwing myself "High-poppers'' in the back yard, I had no one to practice with. But, during my second year, I had a turning point. This turning point was when I was standing in the outfield, bored as usually, someone actually managed to hit it out there. Suddenly my heart started pounding. I saw the look of fear in my team mates faces. "For sure" they thought, " This was a home run." I back up, I really had trouble judging where the ball was going to go, but this time was different, I was going to catch it. And I did. I didn't realize how important this out was until, I found out that I had earned, "The Game Ball" that day. It turns out, we were a head by one run. It was the bottom of the last inning and the opposing team had two people on base. Had I not caught that ball, it would have rolled forever. My team would have definitely lost.

It is hard to believe the smallest things can make such a difference. I played ball for another eight years. I moved from the outfield to first base and even made the all-star team my last two years. But, it all started with my first catch, in the outfield that surprised everyone including me.