The Road I Walked to an Education No School Could Give

I didn’t begin my education in a classroom. My first

lessons were learned under streetlights, in broken

places, and in quiet moments when the world was

asleep and I was still awake—trying to make sense of
life, God, truth, and myself. But eventually, I walked

the halls of colleges and seminaries. I sat in front

of professors with names on plaques and letters

behind their titles. I read textbooks stamped with

official seals. And for a time, I thought this meant I
was learning.

​

But what I was really doing was

gathering man’s knowledge, brick by brick, degree
by degree. Mainstream Schools Teach a
Path—But Always Their Path It didn’t take long to

see that every mainstream institution comes with an
agenda. It isn’t always malicious, but it’s always there.

​

A Catholic college teaches Catholicism as if it were

the only lens worth looking through. A Baptist

seminary builds its walls around Baptist doctrine. A
university pushes secularism wrapped in academic pride.

No matter the place, the message is the same: Walk

our path. Follow our map. Think within our borders.

I walked through six different programs—earning

degrees, titles, academic respect. Some people collect
trophies. I collected transcripts and diplomas. I studied

theology, philosophy, religious history, languages,

and every corner of man’s attempt to describe the
divine. Hours turned into years. Nights disappeared into
so did my mind. But something else was happening too.
The more I learned, the more I realized how little humans

actually know.

 

Man’s Knowledge Is Wide—But Shallow
Textbooks can explain doctrines. Professors can recite

traditions. Scholars can argue interpretations until

their voices crack. But all of it is still man talking about
God, not God revealing Himself through man. Every

institution, no matter how prestigious, no matter

how holy it claims to be, is still built by human hands. Its

teachings are shaped by councils, translations, cultural
biases, and theological boundaries. Even when the

intentions are pure, the limits remain. By the time I

finished my sixth degree, the realization hit me like a

hammer: I had mastered the map, but not the territory.
I knew religion, but I didn’t yet know God.

God’s Knowledge Cannot Be Owned The deeper I went, the

more I saw the great divide: Man’s knowledge can be measured in
credits and classes. God’s knowledge cannot be weighed,
tested, or graded. Man’s truth is debated. God’s truth simply is.
Man needs proof, arguments, and theories. God needs none

—He is the proof. The wisdom of God doesn’t sit neatly in a
syllabus or seminar. It cannot be locked inside one

denomination or one holy book. His knowledge is unknowable

in fullness and uncontrollable in power. You can’t master

God like you master a subject. You can only seek Him, listen

to Him, and walk with Him.

 

That was the moment everything shifted.
Knowing God Is Like Knowing a Person You Love Deeply I realized

that knowing God works the same way knowing a person does.
You can know their stories, habits, likes, and dislikes. You can talk

with them, walk with them, and grow with them. But no matter

how close you get, you will never fully reach the bottom of who

they are.

 

There is always another layer to discover, another

depth to understand. God is the same—infinitely so. I could

read Scripture a hundred times, and each time something

new would come alive. I could compare translations, ancient
manuscripts, lost writings, and still only scratch the surface.

The more I studied, the more God seemed to open door after door,
showing me not conclusions but invitations. It wasn’t about

finishing the path. It was about walking it. The Real Education Began.

When I Stopped Studying for Man and Started Seeking God
All those degrees gave me something: they taught me discipline,

study habits, and the power of digging deep. But they also
revealed their own limits. Man’s knowledge builds confidence.
God’s knowledge builds humility. Man’s teachings point outward.
God’s whisper points inward. Man’s schools gave me titles.
God gave me transformation. People sometimes see my academic
achievements and think that’s where my wisdom comes from.

​

They don’t understand that the breakthrough happened only when
those achievements failed me—when I saw they could not

answer the deeper questions burning inside me. The truth is:
I educated myself far beyond any institution because I refused

to let one system define the boundaries of God. God cannot

be boxed. He cannot be confined. He cannot be fully

known—yet He can be truly known. And that is the paradox

that keeps me searching, reading, studying, and listening.
I am still learning. Still discovering. Still walking the road that

doesn’t end. Not because man taught me, but because God called me.

By: Christopher Arthur Johns