I did not come to questions about God and religion from a distance.
I was raised inside them.
Religion was part of the structure of my life before I was old enough to evaluate it. It shaped my language, my environment, and the assumptions I inherited about truth.
But it did not take many years before I began noticing contradictions.
I saw behavior that did not match the teachings. I saw people speak of humility while protecting status. I saw forgiveness praised in principle and grudges held in practice. I saw questions treated less as part of understanding than as threats to belonging.
That stayed with me.
At some point, while praying, I began paying close attention to my own thoughts. I was trying to determine whether any of them came from beyond me. What I discovered instead was how much my thinking had already been shaped by the world around me.
That realization changed something fundamental.
It made me want to take responsibility for my own thinking instead of allowing it to be formed blindly.
So my questions did not begin as rebellion.
They began as observation.
And over time, observation became philosophy.
What kind of God would create minds and then be displeased when they are used? What kind of truth would fear inquiry? What kind of faith becomes stronger by discouraging thought? And why do systems that speak most often of the sacred so often become entangled with power?
Those are the questions behind what I write here.
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Open and Closed Truth
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Discovering Culture Inside Prayer
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A Map of the Questions for Civilization -- Table of Contents