Judging God: My Personal Journey to Damascus

Copyright © 2012 Cedric Keith Johnson

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-3728-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3729-9 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 8/14/2012

Contents

Introduction

My Story

The Dream

Judging god

Wrestling with God

Evils of The Created God

Rape

Gentile not a religion it’s a Race

Naaman Leprosy

Javan the future Grecians

My personal Road to Damascus

My Confirmation

Spiritual Embryo

God Still Talks To Us

Leader of Men

Harvest of Opposite

Incarcerated Man

Why I Cry

No More Lessons to Learn

Conclusion overview

My Closing Argument

My Message to God

I would like to dedicate this book to my lovely

and faithful mother who taught me:

There comes a point in your life when you realize who really matters, who never did, and who always will.

—Betty Ruth Ray

Judging is the cognitive process of reaching a decision or drawing conclusions.

In our society we use judging to break the bounds of untruth that some use to control or lead astray, while many are left along because of no harm no foul. Many will come to see that this book, entitled Judging God, is nothing more then, the process that one must use to judge the misconception that many use to control other more then themselves. While other would see a deeper meaning in this concept of Judging God, in that Judging God sets the process of freeing ones mind, to understand the harm in the concept itself, with the foul being we have all been lead astray. Judging God brings into play characters that has been left out, concepts that has been removed, in order to serve the few, to leave the massive in limbo. The conclusions is this, each person that reads this book understands that in life there are no conclusions we just give up the search. By judging God we as a human race un-judge ourselves to see each other as we are meant to be seen, clearly mask removed, no longer needed to confuse one another.

Introduction

This is one person life journey of struggle and conflict with the authority of a God, that his follows has caused nothing but confusing and dismay, while in turn has left his believer in a state of denier, this denier has cause them to look away when faced with the possibility of their god being as incomplete as themselves. A small child once ask after suffering death of parent their has to be a God, because I have a lot of questions that needs to be answered. We all have questions that needs answering, judging God is the process of identifying his character in order to ask the right questions and getting the right answer. For far to long we have all been asking all the wrong people, all the right question, to only be turned away without our questions being fully answered. Follow me on this journey for I assure you won’t be disappointed just imagine me as a driver on my way to liberation, I don’t mind hitchhiker, some will not make it to the end, while some will enter an enlightenment witness like never before, and other will not even last a mile which one will you be?

When we chose to judge God, the lies and controls in ones mind, in place to in-salve, that constitute a will of don’t ask don’t tell, soon vanishes, what is then put in place, is a deep desire to explorer that voice that clearly speaks to us in a language of truth. If ones father was a murder, rapist, liar, but was nice and pleasant to his family unit, our his own community, if I as a son did not ask the necessary questions, it would not reveal what he, the Father, has been doing outside of the family. This is why many people are fooled today about people that they say suddenly snap, making statements like he was such a nice person, yea right, they were what they were from the start, you just failed to ask questions that would have clearly erase the duality in his personality that would have revealed his true nature which would not have left you defenseless at that moment, when you made the statement, what signs did I miss, asking the right question would have revealed to you they where present all the time.

My Story

One of the most important things that I can remember as a child was a dream I had at around 8 or 9 years of age, it was a dream about Hell and oh! how real it felt, I awaken sweating and crying thinking to myself why did I have a dream like this? The importance of this dream became a puzzle until a voice said I was to save my family from Hell, my family at the time only consisted a mother and two older brothers. My mother was Sunday school teacher with about a 7th grade education, but she was the one to teach us and have us understand the many deep meanings of the word of God. Our week started on a Sunday it was a all day event, Sunday school service started at around 9 and ended at 11am, the start of worship service lasted until 3pm then there was a break a very sort one, until even service which lasted until 6pm, seem like forever, Monday was a day to prepare for school, Tuesday was for studying our Bibles for hours at a time to get ready for Wednesdays prayer meeting, Thursday was all about church meeting and business, while Friday was the only true day we had off, thinking to myself how was these stories of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, ect was going to help me in this day and age. Even on Saturday’s when visiting my favorite cousin we had to have Bible study, before going outside to play with the other kids. We where poor, my mom with no real education received help from the Government, while also riding buses to take care of little white children’s that we never meet even till this day, but she spent half her time taking care of them. Me and my brother was left at home with our older brother, that did all kind of things to us, he was 14 years older then my brother and 16 years older then I, we would hind every morning in a closet to only be awaken to start our day of adventure, which started off with our older brother carrying us across a deep 17 stair walkway, while we hung on to him by one arm, if we would had fallen a broken something was assured, burning matches in our arms calling us blood brothers, they had the same father, I was always told their father was my father, but I was always different from them. Their was a game that we played to only find out later that some kids had die from performing it, we would hold our breath for about ten seconds when our brother would grab us and hold us so tight until we passed out, some kids never recovered. I tried to make since of my child hood, but nothing really made any sense , we was pretty much on our own, our fathers wasn’t living with us we learned the ways of our mother, she lied a lot, didn’t show much love, changed her mind like the weather, nothing was stable in our home. She stated to us, one reason why she never cried, in front of us was because we needed to be men, she never gave us any support when we tried to better ourselves, her comment was nothing will come of it. The only role models we truly had in our home was men that spent a lot of time in prison, we would visit these men while they were behind bars to later have them live with us once they got out, one rob banks, a murder, another was a thief, we lived over a liquor store where we would hear these men curse and scream and fight each other, I pick up cussing at a very young age, I used these words very well, me my brother also help pass the day with throwing balloons filled with water at these drunks as they walked pass our windows. The bank robber was name Clifford I remember him well, a strong muscular man, one morning while awakening in this life of mines, wrapping my eyes from the night before to only see in my mother room a bed full of money I remember picking up a hundred dollar bill, along with a snap upside the head by this man, ordering me to put in down, my mom was in the kitchen cooking. Weeks later I remember a loud knock on the door, it was the FBI asking my mother as she answered the door, ma have you seen this man? She said no, we all knew she was lying, when this man was out of our lives, my mother didn’t wast much time in finding another ex-con, so back to the jail house we went to visit another one, his name was Bill, he was a thief if my memory serves me right, I longed for a father figure, someone to love me, and show me the ways of being a man, to have fun with, like the shows we grew up watching The Courtship of Eddie Father a story about a father and his son during everything together, it never happen. But I am sure these ex-cons had our best interests at hart LoL, more like the loins of the wild, where when a male Loin was to take over another Loin, pride once that Loin was defeated, the next thing to do was to kill all the cubs, there was no male figure to defeat, only the lioness was present, leaving us still unprotected from the evils of these men, thank God there was no females in our home, I do remember one day when I decided not to go to school, Bill came home drunk and beat me with a belt, all the way to school, my mother found out about it, and put him out, but some how I think she blamed me for what happen, she would still visit him, he only moved a few blocks down the street. People wonder why is it that the children of religious leaders are some of the worst people ever, the reason is because we see what the people of the church don’t see, we live with our parents when the mask is off, no more pretending to be righteous, using the word of God to fool others, all the while judging others. As a child I was a lover of GI Joes, I would watch these toys on teller vision, one day asking my mom, Oh how I would like to have one someday, one day she came to me telling me once she gets paid she would buy me that GI Joe, Oh how happy I was to hear that news, I waited patently until that day would become a reality, I remember on a Sunday morning service knowing this was the week to get my GI Joe, I remember the preacher having the Deacons pull up another bowl for another offering, at this time I don’t remember what for, all I do remember was my mother walking up to that table and putting her money in that bowl, thinking to myself, there goes my GI Joe. My mother telling me later God would make away, which he never did, we continue to live a poor life. The Pastor of the church drove a new car, his kids had the up to date cloths, they seem they had need for nothing. We on the other hand, had hand-me downs, cloths that was left over because some one else had either had no need for them or did not want them. While many Preacher would always preach about how God looks out for the righteous, and pray and believe and all your dreams would come true, I would find other scripture that would say something else, like in the book of Ecclesiastes 8:13 but it would not go well for the wicked. Their life is like a shadow and they die young, because they do not obey God. 14 But this is nonsense. Look at what happens in the world; sometimes the righteous get the punishment of the wicked, and the wicked get the reward of the righteous. I say it is useless. And this was written by a man that This God blessed with great wisdom, and gave him wealth, and this man left this God, for strange women and other religions. (Solomon) One of the most important thing a child specially a male child, is the need to be told the right way to understand women and sex, my education was mostly by accident I remember at about 8 years of age when I open the door on my Aunt, while she was having sex with her boy friend, to me it seems like he was hurting her, doggie style was what I seen, I told my mother about what I seen, all I could remember was her telling her