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I was the best little boy in the world. Ask anyone in this household and no one would question that. People here have always impressed upon my mind everything there is to tell about God. “The King that resides in the clouds,” they would tell me. “When you’re a good boy, He will give you lots of gifts. But beware… if you’re bad, He will surely punish you very harshly!” And being the child that I am, I easily believed it. I pictured this towering man of muscular physique and hard expression on His face and long flowing hair and beard being whipped about by the winds. And since He is within the clouds, maybe He also commands the lightning, which illuminates His face and casts fierce shadows about Him. For thirteen long years, I have kept that picture of God in my head—a God borne of fear. Thirteen years, I have been afraid of all the horrible things He might do to me just because of a slight slip on my part.
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