ok, getting a little old.....?

Question

ok lets make this clear, atheists will always try to ask questions that challenge the fact that they're might be a God, and christians will always try to defend themselves by answering these questions....and whats with all the questions about amputees? and why do people think that God heals every thing else except amputees? cause he doesn't heal everything else, and where are all these people hearing differently?!?

Answer 1

Atheist Goes To Church: My Testimony
by
Rev. R. G. Rindfuss


"And they overcame him (Satan) by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death" -Revelation 12:11

PART 1
"Jesus Christ is my Savior and Lord of my life." I don't think that there's anyone more surprised by that revelation than I am. I made this profession of faith in August of 1987. Up until that time, I was an atheist. That's right, a card-carrying, member-of-the-club, Madalyn Murray O'Hair loving atheist. And I don't mean one of those 'Well, I guess God don't exist because He ain't never done nothing for me, so I won't believe in Him' type atheists, either. I believed I had a purpose to my atheism. I believed my job was to find people with weak and struggling beliefs and help tear down those beliefs. To help free them from that "religious slavery" that they were fixing to get themselves into. I even went so far as to study the Bible, not that I might get some good out of it, but that I might find mistakes, errors, contradictions, and any paradox or difficult-to-understand section that I could use to help break down someone's struggling faith. Now that I look back on it, I realize that I was empty and miserable all through this time of my life and all I was doing was trying to make others as miserable as I was. That was the sole purpose of my life, to make people as unhappy as me. I guess it's true what they say, "Misery loves company", and, since the Devil was the architect of my misery, no one could have been more miserable than I was. I had nothing and no one, and was jealous of those who did.

The one thing I did have, though, was my family. My misery was an orchestration of Satan, making me feel alone and bereft, brought about by my childhood "playing" with things satanic (you know, Ouija boards, tarot cards, etc. I even once read the Satanic bible and tried a 'spell' I found in there to relieve pain). Childish playing, but it opened the door for Satan to access my soul for his purposes. During this time, my parents were trying their best to raise me and my three brothers in a good, solid home. Mom took us to church every Sunday. Dad even went, on special occasions. But a problem arose. God was not often a subject of discussion in our house, as all our religious training was left up to the church. The church we attended, a large Methodist church in Detroit, was unfortunately so large that I got lost in the crowd. I went to worship services, sang in the choir, spent time as an altarboy, went to special events, took the required confirmation classes, joined the youth group, etc, etc, but nobody ever sat me down and tried to make sure that all this 'Jesus stuff' meant anything to me. This was supposed to be "The Answer", but all it was to me was a confused, unholy waste of time, and I soon began to regret every minute I had to spend involved in it. And Satan, always in the background, made sure it stayed that way for me. By the time I reached 16, I'd had all I could stand. I told my parents that I wanted nothing more to do with "God and all that junk" and my parents, being the good, liberal parents of the late 60's and early 70's (as they were told by society that they were supposed to be back in those days) told me, "Well, if you really don't believe then I guess you don't have to go." Before they even got the words out of their mouths, I was already out of the picture. And for the next 17 years, Satan kept me under his thumb, working for him and squirming the whole time. During this period of my life, I suffered in everything. My personal life was made up of broken, unsatisfactory relationships. My financial life was made up of one problem after another, until finally a bankruptcy forced me to move to another state. My professional life was made up of job after job, none lasting more than a year or so, until, finally, my last job collapsed under me, causing me to lose everything. And my mental life was made up of pain, anguish and loneliness, growing worse daily, until thoughts of suicide filled my head regularly. Because of my bankruptcy and the lack of a job market in Detroit, I decided to move to Houston, where I could (maybe, hopefully) make a new start. I didn't realize that Satan works just as well in Houston as he does 1500 miles away in Detroit. I also didn't realize that God, too, works just as well in Houston as He does anywhere else. So, in 1980, my brother Scott (who was also out of work at this time) and I moved to Houston for a "new start". * *


PART 2
My brother Scott and I were always the closest of any of my brothers. He was two years younger than I, while the two older boys were 10 years older than we were - more like uncles than brothers, really. Scott and I had hung around together most of our lives; did the same things, had the same friends, went the same places. The only big difference between us was that Scott had gotten into drugs early (at age 14) and, by this time in our lives, he was a full-blown drug addict and alcoholic (this aspect of Scott's life showed up later as one of God's miracle prayer answers). I never did get into drugs (although Scott talked me into smoking pot once. I got something in my eye, thought I was going blind and, after I got down off the high, never touched the stuff again). I was, however, into drinking. I wasn't a drink-up-the-rent-money, sloppy, fall-down drunk (that was Scott's area of expertise). I was what is sometimes called a "social alcoholic". I didn't drink regularly but when we would go someplace for drinks, I wouldn't have 3 or 4 in a night, I'd have 20 or 30. Hard drinks, not just beer. I would guzzle them down until the bartender threatened to stop serving me. And I would smoke 3 packs of cigarettes a day. I was well into a cycle of self-destruction that, not only couldn't I break, I couldn't even see because Satan kept my eyes closed to it. When we arrived in Houston, this is the 'baggage' we brought with us.

Things worked out well upon our arrival. We both got jobs the day we arrived (the unemployment rate in Houston was 2% at that time) and found a place to stay in a hotel downtown that rented rooms by the month. The room only had two beds, a phone and a t.v. in it, but we were two single guys on our own in the big city. That was all we needed. I had gotten a job at a company downtown, three blocks from the hotel, so this was perfect for me. Scott also got a job nearby, which was good as we didn't own a car. With all this taken care of, we settled in and started our new lives.

After living there for about a year, I met the woman who would become the mother of my two kids. We were married in 1982, six months before our first son, Robert, Jr., was born. Our second son, Randy, was born 16 months later, in 1984. After the kids were born, we settled down to housekeeping. This was difficult, however, because we kept having troubles. Financial troubles, personal troubles, marital troubles, and so on. It seemed that the more troubles we had, the farther apart they drove us. As in all marriages, things between us began to cool off and, because we didn't have a firm, solid basis to found our relationship on, it really became shaky. We had no "solid rock" upon which to stand and, worse yet, didn't even realize that we needed one. It was not a good situation and over the next five years grew steadily worse. * *


PART 3
1987 arrived with a thump and a whimper. The kids were now 3 & 5 and I had withdrawn from our marriage almost completely. Cindy was addicted to cocaine, an addiction which she managed to keep entirely hidden from me, due in large part to the fact that I was just about oblivious to what went on around me. The worse things got for us, the guiltier I felt and the more I withdrew. I spent every waking moment either at work or watching tv. We had given up our apartment and moved into a house we shared with a friend and her kids. When she lost the house, we had to move again, this time into another apartment complex. It was small and had lots of kids living there. This turned out to be very beneficial to our spiritual lives. Because of the large number of children that lived in these apartments, they attracted the attention of a pastor and his wife who had a bus ministry, which involved picking up children in their van and taking them to church each Sunday. They came knocking on our door one Saturday, asking if they could take our kids to church the next day. While I didn't believe in God, I wasn't about to pass up a couple of hours of free baby-sitting on Sunday mornings, so I told them that, of course, you can pick up our kids. True to their word, they turned up the next day at 8:30 am and took our kids away for the next few hours. When the kids were returned, they excitedly told us about the people they'd met and the songs they'd sung and the things they did and what they'd learned. They also asked a bunch of questions that I couldn't answer. A parent never feels dumber than when his child asks a question about which he has no under- standing. The only 'religious instruction' I'd ever had was what I had received as a young child, most of which I had forgotten due to disuse, and in an attempt to answer these questions I began to dredge up some of this past experience. It was woefully inadequate but, as the kids kept going to church Sunday after Sunday, it was all I had to fall back on. And every week they came home with a new story or a new question or a new song, until, after several months of this, the unthinkable happened. My wife announced one day that she wanted to go to church with the kids! * *


PART 4
This was a miracle. My wife, while not an atheist as I was, had renounced the church and had practiced everything in her life except what it said in the Bible. She had been raised up as a child in a very strict, very legalistic denominational church, one that taught that you could not own a television or attend movies or read other than "approved" books or listen to popular music or dance. Women were not allowed to wear make-up or pants or braid their hair. She didn't talk about it much, except to say that, while all these things

Answer 2

No, he doesn't heal everything else. But Christians claim that most diseases are, at times, healed by god. Cancer, for example. The point about amputees is that god obviously never heals them. So only conditions that can be healed naturally are healed supernaturally. Ridiculous, no?

Answer 3

I don't know, I just logged on after a couple days and I'm seeing a large amount of questions about amputees and AIDS today. Did I miss something here?

Answer 4

Because you do not teach the Word of God, the teaching of Jesus Christ. Many Churches and people teach everything but the teaching of Jesus Christ. Are you ashamed of his words?

Jesus said; "it is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing; the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life.

Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both body and soul. Matthew 10:28

As Moses lifted up the serpernt in the wilderness, Moses made an idol and told his people if they bowed down and worshipped it they would live, but many did as God, the Father in heaven, commanded them to in Matthew 10:28

Moses worshipped Satan, on the mountain "of sin"

Answer 5

Let's be fair. I have seen a great many posts from Christians who try and challenge Atheists with their beliefs, causing them to defend themselves over and over.
It goes both ways.

Answer 6

Gods main concern in healing is not for the physical but for the spiritual.

Answer 7

2 more points for me