Who was supposed to be impressed?

Who was supposed to be impressed? No, I did not accept that this book was from God, at least not entirely. Some of what I read moved me, but most of it was more boring and senseless than a 2000 page comic book. There were only two times when my brother convinced me to attend church with him. All that I saw were people there trying to make themselves feel good about their own pathetic shortcomings. The preaching lacked sophistication.

He kept claiming that he possessed all types of powers due to Jesus Christ. He kept trying to convince the congregation, and himself, that what he was saying was true. I thought, what a quack. The best message in the world can never reach its intended target if the messengers approach is inadequate. I wondered why all of those people at the church picked up the hymn books and opened up their bibles to the pages that the minister instructed them to read.

How was it that he got away with making so many comments without being questioned? How come everyone was following what he was saying and not looking at other parts of the bible that clearly contradicted what he was saying? I did not want to sell myself short by allowing him to stand in the way of me becoming acquainted with my Creator, but since I had already turned to and away from the bible, I concluded that those people were content with suspending their intellect and reasoning ability.

They accepted what they were feed, and because their beliefs taught them that despite their poor qualities and severely deficient characters they were still loved by God, they never looked elsewhere? If you believe that God loves you as a wretch the same way that he loves you as a pious person, then why would you ever change your beliefs? If you believed that Jesus died for your sins, then why would you stop sinning? My quest for knowledge continued throughout high school.

I read Plato and Aristotle. I studied Greek and Roman mythology. I looked at contemporary thinkers and philosophers like Bertrand Russell, Nietzsche, Freud, C.S. Jung and others. I tried to get into Thoreau, Emerson, other writers and other poets, mostly white Americans. I attempted to find some substance and depth in Black American writers like Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou and others.

In each of the different personalities, I found some elements that interested me and others that did not, but I was not impressed with any of them enough to make me think that what they knew was worth knowing.