My Journey to America: From Bastard to Bishop

By Bishop

This religious autobiography is meant to inspire the reader to remain focused on God’s leadership. Choosing to be a servant of God may not be common but nothing can match His blessings. Regardless of anyone’s deprived beginning or current bleak dark state, God can and will turn those circumstances around; just hold on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664171350

Bishop

The Bishop has dedicated all his efforts to help educate and expose the connection between Gangs and Human trafficking in the United States.BishopThe U.S. Department of Justice estimates 100,000 to 300,000 American kids under 18 are involved in prostitution and often targeted by sexual predators annually. According to the FBI, the average age of a child sexually exploited is 11.The average age of entry for a girl into prostitution is 13, for a boy 12. The U.S. cities where human trafficking is worst are: Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Detroit, Las Vegas, San Diego, San Francisco, St. Louis, Tampa, and Washington, DC.Victims of human trafficking have a life span of 7 years. With less than 1% of victims being rescued, they are more likely to escape trafficking by death than by escape. One reason why rescue is so rare is because once a girl is trafficked she becomes both a hidden and a moving target for anyone seeking to rescue her.The Bishop helps educate audiences of these matters through Workshops, Speaking Engagements, Guest Appearances, and through Seminars.

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Copyright © 2021 by Bishop.

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Rev. date: 04/23/2021

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CONTENTS

The Bastard – my humble beginnings

America – here I come

Millie

Building my family

Building my family

Answering the call

Coming full circle

Ministry

Acknowledgment

THE BASTARD – MY

HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

December of 1979, Jimmy Carter was President, Ronald Reagan was the leading nominee to the republican party, and I was about to embark on the 5-hour journey from my native Jamaica to the United States. This was during the time that the Iran hostage crisis was hot. While in the US, I was to unite with my father, stepmother, two sisters and a brother whom I barely knew. I felt like I did not belong, an outsider; I was the one born out of wedlock. I was now eighteen and had just recently decided to give my life to Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.

About a year-and-a-half earlier, in preparation for this reunion I found myself continuously searching my memory bank trying to recall what my father may look like now. The only vague recollection would take me back to being about six years old. School would begin soon, and dad had taken me to a tailor to sew my uniform khaki trousers. In Jamaica, regardless of the grade you are in, you wear a uniform. I remember the tailor and dad engaging in conversation about my lack of skills for riding, or even sitting, on a motorcycle…that was my first ride on one of those and it did not go very well. As the days passed, I could not evoke another instance where dad and I had connected.

In contrast, I grew up with my mom, a quiet, reserved, strong woman. Mom had ten children; one died. She had raised me and my other eight siblings on her own. We were poor…very poor. At times I did not even have a pair of shoes to wear. Many times, I would be on my knees crying out to God, imploring for my father’s heart to be moved to assist me in any way. I needed a breakthrough. I was awaiting a breakthrough. Mom was a woman of great understanding and wisdom. Even though many, including scholars, believe that women on their own are ill-equipped to raise a male child, my mom disproved that. I can remember her stern discipline, demanding respect, and instilling values in all her children in order to make each of us