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Read other letters about this article
Especially that part where His Love Grinds Me To A Powder.
(biting tongue; biting tongue; biting tongue...)
So, now, let me get this straight. God loves me. But his love will grind me to a powder just like children in a sandbox at the bottom of a building under construction's elevator shaft if I don't change my mind and decide that He, a deity that's Bipolar at best, actually a) exists in the first place, b) trumps all other deities real or imaginary, and c) is something worth worshipping so I can spend eternity with a huge smile pasted to my face, pretending to love this psychotic thing, while Kirk Cameron leans on an inexplicable firetruck.
For all time.
Nah, that's quite alright, I'll take Hell for $1000, Alex...
