Greetings, dear Lady Lee... and the greatest of love and peace to you! And thank you.
I have no problem discussing almost anything (can't get too explicit, though, sorry - just don't see the benefit). I peer into many threads without commenting at all. Many I pass by because they either not of interest to or not directed at me. I also don't mind "arguing"... such that the word means discussing... and presenting... differing points of view, beliefs, opinions, facts, etc. For some, arguing is actually an art, with rules and structure. Unfortunately, I don't know the rules pat... and I don't particularly like being "bound" by them, anyway. But I think it's quite a different animal when the "argument/discussion" turns hostile, malicious... even abusive... even toward others who are not even involved in the discussion.
When it comes to discussing my faith (which may or may not be an underlying subject here), I tend to look at it kind of like playing paintball - you know you're going to get some splatter on you. In some instances, your going to take a splat to the face and get a mouthfull of Yellow No. 2. You're going to have gamemates who have similar skills... and in some cases not so much. You're going to have gamemates who have greater skills; sometimes MUCH greater (Shelby winks at dear Leolaia!).
It's when your gamemate happens to be a bully, however, that things get dicey. You know who I mean: the one who starts throwing the paint gun at you... and then his helmet, his goggles, shield, shoes, heck, the paint CAN... because you unintentionally "clocked" him one. But the real problem is that even if you as gently, peacefully, and kindly as you can (and you can only do so much in a game of paintball)... you really can't avoid the true bully. Because he will come after you... wherever you may be. HE... will seek YOU... out. Because he can't help it: you are his "reason" for living. He can't BE a bully, without some TO bully.
And it's really bad... when he won't let you go. Won't let you back away and leave the game. Instead, he follows you around, taunting you, calling you names, calling you out. You ask him to stop... which he takes as a sign of weakness.
Reminds me of the little boys who used to chase me at school! I would RUN... hoo-wee! But at some point, you simply have to stop running... turn around... draw back your hand... and smack 'em. Hard. Which I learned caused two results: they either fall in love with you... or they hate you. Both of which causes them to treat you poorly even more.
Boys. Go figure. But... you gotta love 'em.
Peace, dear Lady... and to those who play, happy paintballin' to you!
A slave of Christ,
SA