No one ever really prepares you for your first theological bull session. Usually it arrives without fanfare or advance warning. Usually it happens long before you enter the relative clear-headedness of your adult years, or before you take that philosophy course in college. Usually it happens when you're a junior high school student, up late with friends at a sleepover, or camping out in somebody's backyard. There's just something about a smoky fire and charred food and stars out overhead that turns twelve-year-olds into theologians. 

"All right," someone will say, "if God is all powerful, and if he can do anything at all, does that mean God can make a rock so big that even God can't move it?" Everybody's got an opinion on that one. "Of course God can move it," says someone else. "Isn't th…