Theology from Within: The Voice in My Head

By James T. West

Theology From Within is my most serious and most personal effort. I search out my personal experiences with God. I develop the idea that our conscience is Gods method
to communicate with us. The ideas not new but it seems to be ignored by so many. Movies, TV shows, and many books use the phrase Go with your gut. What does your
gut tell you? How many of us associate Going with your gut with talking to God. Once you get through that there is a personal relationship with God, I talk about creation.
Why do we question that God does not create this huge planet traveling amongst chaos and destruction? Why do we think this safe haven is by chance and not by design?
Then we get to the part which one commentator called the devils words. Let me leave with the fact that I believe in God. Read the book and be enlightened.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479751600

James T. West

James T. West was born in July of 1936. After graduating from high school, he enlisted in the Army. An Honorable Discharge for medical reasons, while still in training, cut short any thought of a Army career. West attempted many different career paths, which meant he took any job that was available. Six years with a telephone company, wo years as a police officer, and five years with Standard Oil were the major highlights of his career advancement. Somewhere in the middle of all this, he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree from UCLA and then added a year of post graduate study in Business. It wasn’t until West began working at Lockheed Aircraft that he found true satisfaction in his work. West started as an analyst and it wasn’t long before he became President and CEO of Lockheed Finance Corporation, a wholly owned subsidiary. He retired from this position in 1994. West’s retirement has allowed him the opportunity to focus on his long time passion for writing. He had traveled the world extensively, allowing him to experience a variety of cultures and see first hand their differences. These travels helped him in writing books that range from personal experiences to glimpses into his own imagination. He is a true family man in every sense of the phrase and cherishes his lovely wife Elsie, who has been by his side listening to all of his ideas and helping him edit his works. When asked what he wants readers to get most out of his books, his response is “depending on the particular book I have a different answer to each one. For Theology from Within, I want readers to take a different and fresh look at their personal view of God. For End of an Era, I want to inform and educate about management practices in the United States based on real experience. In the last two books, Morality One and Second American Revolution, I want to entertain the reader with an escape from reality. I’ve loaded these stories with both suspense and emotion.”

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Copyright © 2012 by James T. West.

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Prologue

This book is about God and the relations between God, humankind, and the universe, a study of Theology. It will touch on religious doctrine and matters of divinity. I will try to make sense out of the history available.

The basis for my conclusions and assertions is a college education, extensive research, worldwide travel for some twenty-five years, seventy plus years of experience, and my conscience, the voice in my head.

The book didn’t start out that way. It started out trying to answer the questions: Can we talk to God? Can we have a conversation with God?

Any conversation has to have two sides. One side speaks while the other side listens and vice versa. The difficulty with talking with God is that I’m never sure the answers are from His side.

I have finally conceded I couldn’t know when God is talking. I began to realize that instead of a booming voice ringing in my ear there was a voice in my head. It was my conscience. It was a gut feeling that guides us as we go through life.

Polling people I knew, surfing the web, and a lot of reading led me to the conclusion that the idea of having a conscience is almost universal. I decided I would produce a study of Theology from within. I would have my conversation with God. I would rely on my conscience, the voice in my head to validate what I think God would say.

The following is a collection of conversations with the voice in my head. I am not holy and certainly not a prophet. I have not had a revelation. I have not been knocked off my horse. Lightening has not struck. I am not the start of a new religion. I definitely do not proclaim my life as any example to live by.

I am a man who has listened to the guidance from his conscience. I have had words, sentences, thoughts, and ideas in my head. I have had conversations with the voice in my head. There are times I like to think the answers I have are from God, that God is talking. However, in reality, the question, and the answers are mine guided by my ever present conscience. I firmly believe the Word of God is there for the asking. All we have to do is look and listen.

The ensuing pages become something more than a recitation of conversations. They are a debate about God, religion, and life. I argue with myself. I present a one-sided picture. I cite those people and events that support my conclusions. I present my intuitive understanding of God. Throughout the process, I am constantly aware of the voice in my head. I establish my Theology from within.

As I go through this process, I begin to realize I am swatting at windmills. I believe the world has given up on any semblance of adhering to the Word of God. Nothing makes sense. The dark side of humanity is winning. The Word of God had been translated to mean greed for power and riches.

I concentrate my effort on the Abrahamic religions. I look at Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. There is a problem with using these three terms as identities. It erroneously ignores the variety of beliefs held by different sects within each. However, at the base of each are the Torah, the Bible, and the Koran.

The Pope is the titular head of the Roman Catholic Church. This religion claims direct lineage to Jesus and the Apostles. From the very beginning, the Church began to amass wealth, wealth beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. The immense treasure of the Vatican towers above the poverty of its converts and seems to be an affront to religious fervor. Instead of a religion, the Pope rules over a Catholic theocracy.

The Ayatollah rules over a Muslim theocracy. Religion is a veil pulled over an absolute dictatorship that wants to rule the world. Islam is a myriad of voices demanding strict adherence to the Koran in the name of Allah. The Koran, which preaches peace and love, is forgotten as Islam spreads its word through fear. Each insult is met with a death threat. Its adherents rattle the saber, threatening annihilation to all nonbelievers. Suicide bombers, in the name of Allah, kill and maim indiscriminately, including fellow Muslims.

Judaism tries to establish Israel as a Jewish Theocracy. Their borders and their voting rights are not open to all. The fundamentalists fear their Theocracy can weaken if there is true Democracy.

Each religion shouts out, theirs is the one true way. Each religion adds adherents to its beliefs and adds money to its wealth. Clerics get rich, religions get rich, and very little trickles down to do any good.

I was born a Catholic. In every year of my life until I switched to a public school in the tenth grade, I was immersed in Catholicism. Nuns of various orders guided and shaped my beliefs. At one time, I thought I would go into the priesthood. I spent an hour a week with a Jesuit priest exploring the option. Somewhere during all of this, I became interested in girls and the priesthood did not have the same appeal.

I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology from UCLA and a year of postgraduate study in Business. I have traveled throughout the world. At each stop, I have seen a slightly different approach to God and to life. I have had a personal relationship with the people I have met. I have been invited into their homes to meet their families.

I am an avid reader, especially of History and Theology. I do not really claim to hear God talking. The voice in my head is talking. My credentials for doing this is what I have learned over seventy plus years—nothing more.

I trust you will keep the following pages in the right perspective, the events are real, the facts presented can be verified, and the conversations are mine. The opinions belong to me. I have exposed my relationship with God. I do not offer up a religion as the right or true one.

The Word of God is everywhere. What man has done with the message is what causes concern. I hope you enjoy the exercise and come away with the realization that you can have a personal relationship with God. God will come to you. It is easy. Try it.

I count on the reader’s forgiveness for using the masculine in referring to God. It is the traditional way. I do not have a clue as to the gender of God. I have a feeling that God is neither. I think God lives in another realm not of this earth.

I have relied on a lifetime of study but more extensively on two books. They are The New American Bible, © Franciscan Herald Press, revised edition 1971, and The Koran, translated with notes by N. J. Dawood, © N. J. Dawood 1974. I use quotations from the Bible and from my copy of the Koran (translated). These are always in bold and in a smaller font. I have made extensive use of the internet. There are too many sites to list.

Chapter 1

GOD!

I am listening.

Are you?

Well dumb, dumb if you didn’t think so, why shout? Nothing is different from any other day. You shout—I answer. You moan and groan about how life is so unfair. Most of the times you want me to do something for you. Let you win LOTTO. Help you get a job. Better yet—the most important and crucial matter of a lifetime—get me to the airport on time.

I’m not that bad.

That’s true. I am just a little tired of it all today.

An omnipotent and all-powerful God does not get tired.

That’s interesting. You’re not even convinced I’m real. You think you are talking to yourself. You continually question the voice in your head. How many times have you asked: How do I know it is You? How do I know it’s not just me?

I know the voice in my head is real. It’s been there forever. It is just that when I start talking I wonder who is answering.

Who do you think is the voice in your head?

That’s easy—God. The voice is commenting on my behavior, always-correcting, always-assigning guilt, always-giving comfort, and most of all always there. It is not I. It is You.

If you believe the voice is God, then why the doubt? When you hear or think an answer, you assume your own attitudes and opinions will have more influence than the voice in your head. Yet, you’re convinced I am there as your conscience.

The voice in my head is not clear-cut. It rings loud and clear, when I do wrong, but most of the time it’s just a feeling. When there are thoughts and words, they frequently lack clarity.

Lack clarity? You are lacking clarity. Explain.

When my behavior is definitely in the wrong, I feel guilt. The voice in my head can almost bring me to my knees. When I’m deciding how to behave in a certain situation, I let my conscience be my guide. Good and bad behavior is clear. When I try to have a conversation, the clarity disappears.

I know the voice in my head is there. I know or at least feel quite certain the voice is God. What I don’t know is whether I interfere with the process by interposing my own wishes and desires. Let’s face it doing wrong doesn’t always happen. However, it does come easy.

When you ask a question?

I always hope God will answer. At the very least, I think He guides my moral choices. When I ask a question and I’m not sure the answer is His or mine, I try to follow my conscience, or gut feeling. When I ignore my conscience, I feel the guilt. When I ask questions, I am not sure I hear the answer.

Guilt comes easily after the fact. There is guidance and a good feeling or bad feeling based on following that guidance, that gut feeling. When you ask questions, you’re never sure if I answer. You accept My guidance but when you ask a question you’re not sure that I answer. Maybe you need to realize that guidance is an answer.

Do you remember when we first started talking? I mean when you first came into my head. I talked and I supposed you listened. I asked questions. You didn’t answer.

Didn’t you felt better afterward?

I think I fell asleep.

Do you remember where you were?

I was five years old, at the orphanage, alone, and headed to bed without dinner. It was sort of a regular event.

The first few years of your life didn’t go well.

It’s never good to be born out of wedlock. The reception isn’t always the best. I had been bounced around to different foster parents until I was old enough to go to a boarding school. The cozy life in a nice boarding school is easy to live with. After a year, I was accustomed to this good life. Then one day all of it changed. I was picked up one morning, spent the day in a car, and spent the next year in an orphanage that really didn’t want me there.

My linchpin to sanity through all this was God. I had learned to talk to God early, thanks to a concerned nun.

How did a concerned nun help?

She was my home nun at the boarding school. She put me to bed at night and woke me in the morning. She was my surrogate mother. She gave me love, attention, and an education. She knew my background and I think she saw I wasn’t dealing with my issues well. She sat down with me and explained that through it all God was there. He loved me and cared for me. No matter what, God was always at my side. All I had to do was ask and He would answer.

You hung in there and kept asking but you didn’t think you were getting any answers.

Something like that. I did feel You were there and I was sure You were in control. However, I wasn’t doing too well in the orphanage.

Like what?

Everything just seemed to boil over that night when I was sent to bed without dinner. I had slowly climbed the stairs coming out of the dining room. I was in a cavernous hallway leading to the dormitory. There was a dim glow of light in front of me. I stopped, tired, scared, and crying. I sat on the floor. I had my back against the wall with my knees up. The hall was dark and eerie. I felt small, insignificant, and afraid.

It was all wrong. I was convinced You were punishing me. I buried my head in my hands and prayed. What had I done? Why were You blaming me? I was crying, which was an unwanted trait. It happened more than it should have.

Do you remember what was going on?

Going from riches to rags wasn’t the easiest. It really is much nicer to have pleasant surroundings in life. Have You ever been in an orphanage? The boarding school was what I thought to be the good life. I had arrived. Instead, it was a big tease. You gave me a look at what life could be like and then pulled it all away. I was not worthy. I had sinned, apparently the big sin. This was my punishment and I wasn’t coping too well.

Because you think I caused it all.

Who else? I thought the sin belonged to my mother, yet I was doing the penance. Normally I would roll with the punches. The thing was to adapt to the new surroundings. For some reason, I just wasn’t adapting. Nothing was going right. I couldn’t stop crying nor could I stop wetting the bed, both of which kept me in serious trouble with Sister.

It wasn’t that bad.

It was. I would go to bed telling myself repeatedly that I would greet the morning with a dry bed. During the day, I would practice each time I went into the bathroom. When I stood in front of the urinal, I would pinch myself and slap my face. I felt sure this would prevent any mistake.

Nighttime came and after I fell asleep, the dream would come. I would find myself standing in front of the urinal. Just as I had practiced, I would pinch myself and slap my face. I felt sure I was awake. I would say aloud, please God let this be right. I would let go. Instantly I would have a warm wet feeling spreading across my groin. I knew I was in trouble. I would fall back asleep hoping it was all a dream.

I would wake with Sister wrenching the covers off me and screaming. I didn’t understand. Why were You doing this to me? What had I done?

A five year old doesn’t usually resort to pleading with God for help. I have to admit you surprised me.

You have to admit what, a five year old found life so overwhelming that he asked for help.

Five year olds don’t usually ask for help. They say prayers by rote. The concept of dealing directly with God doesn’t usually exist at the age of five. For some it never exists. Catholic Charities had kept you in different foster homes, until you were old enough for boarding school. One morning you were taken out of the boarding school, and by night, you were sleeping in an orphanage. The move had nothing to do with anything you had done. Your mother had wanted to assert her parental privilege. It seemed the zeal lasted less than twenty-four hours. She just didn’t like what came with motherhood. The orphanage was easier.

Figuring out why was something way above your pay grade. It would have been natural for you to turn to your religious figures, the nuns, and the priests. A five year old just doesn’t ring my bell. They study the Catechism and ask Sister for help when things go wrong. The voice in their head really hasn’t formed yet.

I had read the Catechism from cover to cover. The words did not seem to be Your words. All the rules and regulations seemed to keep you at a distance. I was to be a member of the Church, not God’s child. Deep inside of me, I rebelled. I felt You should be a personal God. I felt You and I should have conversations. I believed the words I would have in my mind should be God talking. I wanted to go to You direct. It didn’t seem to be working.

At five years old, you wanted to start your own religion. Forget all the lessons and memorization by rote; you had a better idea—talk to God.

Why not?

You said you fell asleep.

Crying and praying did me in.

Do you remember where you woke up?

In my bed—my dryyyy bed. Noooo! Sister must have come along and put me to bed.

Are you sure?

It was a long time ago.

About seventy years, I didn’t hear much from you after that.

You scared the hell out of me.

Why?

You don’t remember.

Oh, yeah—the incident at summer camp.

A friend and I had stolen a box out of the day’s mail. It was addressed to a nerd who was always getting goodies from home. We were sure it would be something good to eat. It was—homemade cookies. We went off and ate the whole lot. When we got back to camp, we kept quiet through all the fuss. We kept together as everyone searched for the box. We gave each other strength to keep our mouths shut. No one ever knew or suspected. We had washed our faces clean, no evidence showed. We were careful to eat a full meal at dinner and not complain about the tummy ache we were feeling. We were free from suspicion. We had pulled off our big heist and got away with it.

So what was the problem?

I felt guilty. Maybe the voice hadn’t reached maturity but it was certainly active in the guilt realm. I had not committed a big sin before and I was scared to death. I was sure You would know. I didn’t know what You would do.

What made you think I would do anything?

A week after I got home, I was reading the daily newspaper. On a back page, I read that a nine year old was killed in a freak bike accident. They gave the boy’s name. He was my friend at camp. It didn’t end there. The next day I was on my bike and a bus almost sideswiped me. I was pinned to the curb by the tire of the bus. I don’t know why I didn’t fall under the wheels. A violent end seemed near.

Did you think I was doing it as your punishment?

Why else did those things happen? Coincidence wasn’t something I believed in. My whole life I had been taught everything that happens has a purpose. Events are linked.

I didn’t go out of the house for a week. I was convinced You would strike me dead. When I finally went outside, I kept trying to dodge the meteor I was sure would fall on me. You had killed my cohort and I was certain I was next.

There were other things involved in your friend dying. It had nothing to do with your little caper.

You could have let me know.

To be honest, I thought a little scare would be good for you.

A little scare! You have to be kidding me. I was already convinced You were an angry all-powerful God. Sister told of a student who had a straight A average, was an altar boy, and was the perfect example of all that is good. At his funeral, the church was full of tearful mourners wondering why God would take an ideal youngster at such an early age. Surely, the child was in heaven.

Suddenly the boy sat up in his coffin. His voice rang out, Just before I died, I swore, taking the Lord’s name in vain. I am now in hell. The message was there. God is just waiting for you