THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
CHRISTOPHER ARTHUR JOHNS

A Life in Search of God
PART I — BORN INTO
MOVEMENT AND FAITH
My name is Christopher Arthur Johns,
born on November 22, 1963, in the rugged
heart of Colorado—under a sky too big and
mountains too permanent for a child to
ignore. I was born into a God-fearing,
military family, the kind where respect was
not a suggestion, discipline was a
language, and faith was as essential as
breathing.
My father’s military service meant we

never stayed in one place long. We lived
like spiritual nomads, moving from the hot
humidity of Florida to the icy wind of Alaska,
passing through dozens of states, cities,
and towns in between. Every new place
had different people, different accents,
different cultures—and different ideas about
God.
Before I ever picked up a Bible, before I
ever stepped into a church or read a sacred
text, I learned one powerful truth from our
constant traveling:
Humanity does not agree on God—but
everyone is searching.
I didn’t know it then, but those countless
miles across America were the first steps
toward a destiny I would spend my entire
life trying to fulfill:
to understand God not through one
religion, but through all of them.

PART II — A CHILD WITH
QUESTIONS
From the time I could speak, I questioned
everything. I questioned pastors, family,
Sunday school teachers, anyone who
taught anything about God. My childhood
faith was honest, but it wrestled with
contradiction. Every base, every church,
every group had a different “absolute truth.”
I was told to obey, to accept without
question.
But I couldn’t.
My mind demanded more.
My soul demanded answers.
I did not want the God of tradition—I
wanted the God of truth.
That desire would later consume decades
of my life, break me, rebuild me, and
become my mission. But back then, it was
simply the spark inside a young boy who

saw God everywhere and nowhere at the
same time.

PART III — THE MAKING
OF A WORKING MAN
Despite my spiritual hunger, my early adult
life was firmly rooted in the physical world. I
graduated high school, went to automotive
trade school, and became an ASE Master
Mechanic—one of the highest certifications
in the field. My hands were skilled, steady,
dependable. I worked long hours under
cars, beneath engines, over grease-stained
benches. I eventually owned and operated
an Amoco service station.
People brought their broken machines to
me, and I fixed them.
But what I didn’t tell them was that all the
while, I felt broken too.

I could repair an engine down to the bolt,
but I still did not understand God.
And that lack of understanding ate at me
every day.
At night, after the tools were put away and
the shop lights clicked off, I would read
scripture by lamplight. I read to understand.
I read to find meaning. I read because
something in me felt like it wasn’t made for
this world—that I had a calling I still didn’t
understand.
One book became ten.
Ten became hundreds.
Hundreds became a lifelong obsession.
And eventually, that obsession became a
mission.

PART IV — A LIFE OF
EXTREMES: ADDICTION,

BIKES, AND BROKENNESS
People who knew me then saw only the
surface: the mechanic, the biker, the man
who lived fast and partied hard. I rode
motorcycles, drank heavily, used drugs,
and lived a life that flirted daily with
disaster. I married multiple times, trying to
find stability, trying to fill a void I couldn’t
name.
I never had children.
Life never gave me that path.
But I loved deeply, and I loved fiercely—my
family, my brothers, the few friends I
trusted.
Addiction was a monster I fought for years.
Alcohol tried to claim me. Drugs tried to
swallow me. There were nights where I
wasn’t sure I would make it until morning.
Times when I woke up not knowing how I
got where I was.

And all the while, beneath the chaos,
beneath every mistake and every moment
of darkness, one truth kept gnawing at me:
“This is not who you are. You were born
to search for God.”
But I kept running—fast, wild, far.
Until life finally stopped me.

PART V — PRISON: THE
UNEXPECTED SACRED
PLACE
My life crashed hard. Choices caught up
with me. And I found myself sentenced
to five years in prison.
People think prison is only punishment. For
me, it was purification.
Behind those walls, stripped of freedom,
stripped of distraction, stripped of
everything except my thoughts and my

soul, I finally confronted the truth:
I had been searching
everywhere—religions, addictions,
escapes, philosophies—except inside
myself.
Prison was where God met me face-to-face.
Not through a sermon.
Not through a pastor.
But through silence.
I read constantly—sometimes 10 to 12
hours a day. I devoured religious texts,
historical writings, spiritual commentaries. I
read:
The Bible in dozens of translations
The Qur’an in multiple versions
The India Vedas and Upanishads
The Bhagavad Gita
The Dead Sea Scrolls
Apocryphal and lost Christian writings
Homer’s Iliad and the ancient classics
Wiccan texts and Scientology manuals

Ancient and modern philosophy
World history, archaeology, astronomy,
and science
If humanity had written about God, I read it.
If humanity had prayed to something, I
studied it.
If humanity had doubted, worshiped, killed,
or died in the name of God, I wanted to
know why.
In prison, I read the Bible more than 150
times from beginning to end. I read the
Qur’an over 20 times. I compared
translations word by word. I studied with
Jehovah’s Witnesses for ten years. One
brother of mine was a Bahá’í. Another a
Mormon. I felt like my life was a living
interfaith classroom.
Prison didn’t destroy me.
It forged me.
It stripped away who I had been and
revealed who I was meant to become.

PART VI — THE SCHOLAR
EMERGES
When I came out of prison, I was no longer
the man who went in.
I became an ordained minister.
I earned degrees
in metaphysics and spiritual counseling.
I became recognized as a:
Biblical Historian
Professor of Holy Scriptures
Doctor of Divinity
And given the honorary title of Reverend
Doctor
But titles were never the point.
Knowledge was never the end.
Truth was.
And once I found it, I knew I couldn’t keep it
to myself.

PART VII — A MISSION IS
BORN
Humanity hasn’t lost faith.
Humanity hasn’t lost God.
But humanity has lost true religion—the
raw, unfiltered, unmanipulated pursuit of
divine truth.
After decades of study, suffering, discipline,
revelation, and relentless searching, I knew
I had to do something with what I had
learned.
So at 61 years old, I wrote my book:
The GOD Subject
Not as a theologian.
Not as a minister.
Not as a scholar.
But as a man who has walked through
every valley—physical, mental,
spiritual—and come out carrying truth in
both hands.
My mission became simple:

Tell others what I have learned.
Show them what true religion once was.
Help them find God again—without the
noise, without the politics, without the
distortion.

PART VIII — THE CALL TO
WRITE
For most of my life, I never imagined myself
as an author.
A mechanic? Yes.
A seeker? Absolutely.
A man who had lived hard and paid the
price for it? Without a doubt.
But an author?
That calling didn’t come softly.
It didn’t whisper.
It thundered.
After decades of searching through every
possible path to God—religions,

philosophies, miracles, disasters,
addictions, meditations, science, history,
and personal transformation—I felt
something rising in me. A pressure. A
responsibility.
A burden of knowledge, almost too heavy to
carry.
I knew things—not because I was brilliant,
but because I was relentless. Because I
had walked through hell to find them.
Because I had read what others ignored,
studied what others mocked, endured what
others feared, and questioned what others
blindly obeyed.
And one truth kept echoing in my mind:
“You cannot keep this to yourself.”
But writing a book takes more than
knowledge. It takes courage. It takes
honesty. It takes the willingness to stand
naked before the world, soul exposed,
history laid bare.

I had to decide whether to hide behind
comfort…
or stand before truth.
For years, I wrestled with that decision. I
told myself:
“Who am I to write a book about God?”
“Who will listen to a man with my past?”
“Who will believe someone who’s been an
addict, an inmate, a biker?”
But the answers came just as quickly:
“Who better?”
Who better than someone who has lived
every extreme?
Who better than someone who has been
broken and rebuilt?
Who better than someone who has seen
the worst of man and still believes in the
best of God?
After all, God has a habit of using unlikely
men for undeniable missions.
So I began to write.

PART IX — THE PROCESS:
PAGES BORN FROM A
LIFETIME
I didn’t write The GOD Subject like a
scholar writes a thesis.
I wrote it like a man finally telling the truth
he’s carried for 60 years.
Every chapter came from a different part of
my life:
My childhood in a military family
My early spiritual questions
My years of addiction
My long nights in prison
My decades of study
My countless readings of scripture
My search for God in religions, texts,
science, and silence
I wrote at night, in the early morning,

sometimes for 20-hour stretches when
inspiration refused to let me sleep.
The book was not created.
It was born—from suffering, from
revelation, from discipline, from obsession.
When I finished the final draft, I looked at
the pages and realized something:
This wasn’t a book.
It was my life on paper.
It was my testimony.
It was my warning.
It was my offering.
It was proof that no matter where you come
from, no matter what you’ve done, no
matter how far you fall…
God can still use you.

PART X — MY
PHILOSOPHY: WHAT I
LEARNED FROM A

LIFETIME OF SEEKING
People often ask me what I believe now
after studying so many religions and
philosophies.
The truth is both simple and complicated:
I believe God is real.
I believe God is consistent.
And I believe mankind has buried the truth
beneath centuries of distortion.
Religion was meant to be a bridge.
Instead, humanity turned it into a battlefield.
Faith was meant to unite.
Instead, it divides.
Scripture was meant to enlighten.
Instead, it is often weaponized.
After decades of reading the Bible and
Qur’an in multiple translations, studying the
India Vedas, the Upanishads, ancient
Greek philosophy, Wiccan teachings,

Scientology structures, and every variation
of belief I could get my hands on, I
discovered a few universal truths:
1. God is not owned by any
religion.
Not Christianity.
Not Islam.
Not Judaism.
Not Hinduism.
Not any church, book, temple, or
denomination.
2. Religion can guide you—but
it can also blind you.
Most people inherit religion from their
parents.
Few ever test it for themselves.
Even fewer ever compare it to others.
3. Truth is consistent across
time and cultures.

Love.
Discipline.
Humility.
Search.
Responsibility.
Justice.
These appear in all religions because truth
echoes everywhere.
4. God speaks to seekers, not
spectators.
It’s not enough to claim belief.
You must pursue it.
You must challenge it.
You must question it.
You must suffer for it.
And above all—
**5. True religion is not
memorized.
It is lived.**
That is what The GOD Subject tries to

restore.
PART XI — WHY I MUST
TELL OTHERS
I know what it feels like to be lost.
I know what it feels like to doubt.
I know what it feels like to destroy your life
and rebuild it from ashes.
I know what it feels like to search for God in
the dark.
My mission is not to convert anyone.
Not to create followers.
Not to build a religion of my own.
My mission is simple:
To help humanity rediscover the truth
about God—
the truth buried beneath dogma, tradition,
politics, fear, and misunderstanding.
I tell my story because I know there are
millions who feel the way I once felt:
Confused

Broken
Searching
Misled
Hungry for answers
Afraid to question
Afraid to hope
Afraid to believe
If my journey can help even one person
step toward truth, then everything I
endured—every addiction, every failure,
every mile traveled, every book read, every
night in prison—was worth it.

PART XII — FAMILY, LOVE,
LOSS, AND THE SPACES
IN BETWEEN
For all my studies, all my travels across
religions and philosophies, all the years lost
and found again, there is one thing

that has remained constant:
My love for my family.
I grew up in a home shaped by military
discipline and faith, but also by loyalty—the
kind of loyalty that doesn’t disappear when
life gets complicated. My brothers and I
took very different spiritual paths. While I
studied Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and
esoteric traditions, my brothers made their
own journeys:
One became a member of the Bahá’í Faith,
drawn to its message of unity.
Another embraced Mormonism, with its
unique structure, scripture, and community.
Some families break apart over religion.
Not mine.
Our differences became
conversations—sometimes heated,
sometimes emotional, sometimes profound.
But underneath it all was love. A love strong
enough to hold

three very different spiritual views at the
same table without shattering.
People often think a religious life means a
simple life. Mine was anything but simple.

PART XIII — LOVE AND
WHAT IT TAUGHT ME
I was married multiple times.
Sometimes I was the one who didn’t
understand love.
Sometimes the other person didn’t.
Sometimes life simply took us in different
directions.
I never had children, though I once
imagined I would. I imagined teaching a son
or daughter what I had learned, guiding
them through the questions that haunted
me from childhood.
But God had different plans.
Instead, my life’s teachings went into my

studies, my ministry, and eventually into my
writing. I realized this:
Some men leave children behind.
Others leave knowledge.
Some leave bloodlines.
Others leave truth.
My story, my search, my suffering, my
revelations—these became my legacy.
Still, love taught me more about God than
any book did:
It taught me humility.
It taught me sacrifice.
It taught me that faith is fragile.
It taught me that connection matters more
than certainty.
It taught me that God’s greatest lessons are
often delivered through the people who
walk in and out of our lives.
Losing relationships hurt.
But each loss became a mirror showing me
who I was—and who I still needed to

become.

PART XIV — THE YEARS
OF WAR INSIDE MYSELF
Addiction leaves scars you cannot see in a
mirror.
I battled alcohol.
I battled drugs.
I battled the version of myself that wanted
to forget, escape, numb, disappear.
These were not just bad habits.
They were wars.
Addiction is a slow spiritual suicide, one
that lies to you gently while it cuts your life
apart piece by piece. There were nights I
looked at my reflection and saw a stranger.
There were days when I wondered if I
would survive long enough to understand
why I was alive in the first place.
Faith didn’t save me instantly.

Knowledge didn’t save me instantly.
Scripture didn’t save me instantly.
I had to choose to save myself.
And that is where God met me—not in a
book, not in a temple, but in the moment I
decided my life was still worth fighting for.
Every addiction I overcame, every chain I
broke, every wound I healed became
another piece of the testimony I now share.

PART XV — THE SILENCE
AFTER THE STORM
People imagine a spiritual seeker’s life is
full of constant revelation, constant
inspiration, constant divine voices. But the
truth is, much of the spiritual journey
happens in silence.
There were long stretches of my life where I
felt:
No guidance

No clarity
No divine presence
No direction
No answers
And yet, those silent years were some of
the most transformative.
They taught me patience.
They taught me trust.
They taught me that God is often working
deepest when He appears most absent.
I came to understand something profound:
God does not shout above your noise.
He waits until you run out of noise.
PART XVI — THE WEIGHT
OF KNOWLEDGE AND THE
COST OF TRUTH
Studying more than most people ever dare
to explore didn’t make my life easier. It
didn’t bring comfort. In many ways, it

made everything harder.
Knowledge stripped away my illusions.
Truth forced me to confront myself.
Understanding pushed me into conflict with
the world around me.
The more I learned, the more I realized how
much religion had been distorted—how
much truth had been hidden,
misinterpreted, politicized, commercialized,
and weaponized.
And with every revelation came a
responsibility:
Tell others.
Warn others.
Guide others.
Help others see what you now know.
But truth is heavy.
And carrying it is often lonely.
Still, I carried it.
Because I had to.
Because my life—every battle, every

mistake, every scar—had prepared me for
this exact mission.
The mission to bring truth back to people
who need it, people who are searching,
people who are tired of lies disguised as
faith.

PART XVII — MY MESSAGE
TO HUMANITY
If I could gather the entire world in one
place—every believer, every doubter, every
skeptic, every saint, every sinner—and
speak only once, this is what I would say:
God is real.
But most of what you were taught about
Him is not.
Humanity has buried the truth beneath:
tradition,
politics,
fear,

ego,
denominational pride,
and centuries of ritual disconnected from
understanding.
The result is a world overflowing with
religion
but starving for truth.
I met people in my life who claimed to know
God while knowing almost nothing about
the scriptures they swore by.
I met scholars who knew scripture but had
no relationship with the God behind it.
I met atheists who rejected a version of
God I wouldn’t believe in either.
I met spiritual people who felt God
everywhere but could not articulate why.
And across all of them, I saw the same
desperation:
“I want to understand.”
If my journey means anything, let it mean
this:

**Faith without study is fragile.
Study without faith is empty.
But faith with study is unstoppable.**
God never asked humanity to be blind.
Only humble.
Only honest.
Only sincere.
My message to the world is not a new
religion, a new doctrine, or a new set of
rules.
It is a call to return to the purity of
seeking—
to the courage of questioning—
to the honesty of confronting the parts of
the self we would rather avoid.
Truth is not some hidden treasure buried in
ancient ruins.
It is in plain sight.
It is in scripture, yes—
but also in history, science, nature,

conscience, suffering, and revelation.
Truth is not owned.
It is discovered.
And discovery begins with one simple step:
Ask.
Ask sincerely.
Ask relentlessly.
Ask with the hunger of someone who
refuses to die without understanding why
they lived.
I spent my life asking.
And in the end, I learned this:
God is not the property of any religion.
God is the inheritance of every soul.

PART XVIII — WHAT I
HOPE MY READERS
LEARN
When someone finishes The GOD Subject,
I don’t want them to say:
“I agree.”

or
“I disagree.”
Agreement is easy.
Disagreement is easy.
But thinking—true thinking—that is hard.
I want my readers to walk away with:
1. Permission to question
anything.
If a religious leader cannot handle your
questions,
they cannot handle the truth.
2. The courage to pursue
answers.
The truth may scare you before it frees
you—
but it will free you.
3. A deeper understanding of
themselves.
You cannot understand God without

understanding yourself.
Your motives.
Your patterns.
Your shadows.
Your wounds.
Your hopes.
4. An awareness that God is
closer than they think.
Not in temples…
not in mosques…
not in cathedrals…
not in rituals…
but in the quiet spaces between thought
and breath.
5. A hunger that does not fade.
My book is not the end of the journey.
It is the beginning.
If my words awaken even one seeker—
if they unlock one heart—
if they save one soul from the confusion I

lived through—
then my life’s suffering becomes sacred.
PART XIX — WHAT I WANT
MY LIFE TO MEAN
When my time on Earth comes to an end,
I do not want to be remembered as:
a mechanic,
or a criminal,
or a biker,
or a scholar,
or even as an author.
I want to be remembered as something
much simpler:
A man who searched for God and
refused to stop.
In a world where people settle for the
religion they were born into,
I refused to settle.
In a world where people are afraid to
question,

I asked every question.
In a world where people fear God,
I pursued Him.
My life is proof of something many people
doubt:
**You do not have to be perfect
to find God.
You just have to be honest.**
I was broken.
I was blind.
I was addicted.
I was lost.
I was angry.
I was imprisoned.
I was surrounded by contradiction and
confusion.
And I found God anyway.
Or maybe God found me—
in the places I least expected Him.
If I leave anything behind, let it be this:

Seek truth.
Honor truth.
Live truth.
And no matter where your journey takes
you,
God will meet you there.

PART XX — THE FUTURE,
ONGOING MISSION, AND
FINAL REFLECTIONS
Now, as I write this, I am 61 years old, a
man who has lived more decades than
most can imagine, a man who has walked
through fire and survived, a man who has
seen humanity at its highest and at its
lowest. And yet, I am not finished.
Because the search for God—true God,
unfiltered, uncorrupted, real—never ends. It
cannot end.

My life’s work is not over. My mission
continues. Every lecture I give, every text I
write, every conversation I have with a
seeker, every soul I meet who is hungry for
understanding—it is all part of the same
journey I began as a child wandering
across the United States, curious about the
heavens and the divine.
I see the world in layers now:
Its beauty and its brutality,
Its faith and its failure,
Its hypocrisy and its sincerity.
And I have chosen not to despair. Because
in every tragedy, in every corruption, in
every misguided attempt at religion, there
lies the potential for redemption. God never
abandons the seeker. God never abandons
humanity.
MY HOPE FOR THE WORLD
I have spent a lifetime studying scriptures,

philosophies, ancient texts, modern
interpretations, and the sciences of the
universe. I have sought God in every
tradition, from the Bible to the Qur’an, from
the Vedas to the Dead Sea Scrolls, from
Wicca to Scientology, from ancient
philosophy to modern astronomy. And I
have learned one undeniable truth:
The divine is accessible to all who
earnestly seek it.
If I have learned anything, it is that God is
not found in ceremony alone, not in
hierarchy, not in titles, not in doctrine. God
is found in pursuit, in reflection, in humility,
in suffering, and in love—love for the world,
love for others, and love for the truth itself.
My hope is that readers of The GOD
Subject will take that message to heart.
That they will begin their own journey of
sincere searching. That they will not settle
for what is easy or convenient, but will

pursue the truth in all its complexity and
majesty.
MY LEGACY
I do not write this autobiography to glorify
myself. I write it to serve as evidence that
no life is wasted, no experience is
meaningless, and no path is without
purpose—even when it feels like it.
I have lived as a mechanic, a biker, a
prisoner, a student, a teacher, a scholar, a
minister, a seeker. I have stumbled, I have
fallen, I have broken—but I have also risen,
learned, and loved. I have no children of my
own, but I leave my work, my knowledge,
my story, and my book as a legacy for
every soul willing to search.
I want to be remembered not for what I
owned, or where I went, or how many
mistakes I made. I want to be remembered
as a man who never stopped searching
for

God, and who refused to settle for lies or
half-truths.
FINAL REFLECTIONS
If there is one lesson I hope anyone reading
this will carry forward, it is this:
Be relentless in your pursuit of truth.
Do not fear questioning, doubting, or
exploring.
Embrace suffering as a teacher, not a
curse.
Recognize that every failure, every loss,
every dark night of the soul is shaping
you for revelation.
My life has been long, tumultuous, and at
times painfully lonely. But it has also been
extraordinarily rich, filled with lessons no
classroom could teach and no book could
contain. Every experience has led me here,
to share this message, to offer this
testimony, to guide those who are willing

to take the journey that I have walked for
decades.
And above all, I have learned this:
God is real.
God is consistent.
God is waiting for every seeker to find Him.
I am Christopher Arthur Johns, born to
search, born to stumble, born to learn, and
ultimately born to witness. This is my story.
This is my mission. And this is my life in
pursuit of the one truth that transcends
everything:
The GOD Subject.