Proof of God and the reason for Christ's Sacrifice
You are missing some very important information. Not that it has ever been hidden or secret. It was always there before you. Now read it for yourself.
The first prophetic announcement of the spirits and image of God described in the book of the Revelation. Who you are. What you are and your future described.
You were created in the image of God, but do you even know what that image is?
This is a must read for any philosopher, theologian or student of existentialism.
TJ Ginn throws down the gauntlet. Test your knowledge. Read “The Children of the Seven Hills.”
Available on Amazon.com
Fiction writers are creative and the stories they produce are entertaining but often times the stories are disjointed and preposterous. In an attempt to entertain they reach a bit beyond logic and as a result intrigue is lost in absurdity.
This story is fiction to the extent that names and places have been altered to avoid my prosecution by law suit. If you however, out yourself by attempting to claim that a fictitious character is based on you, I will deny any knowledge of using you as a source of the character.
The point is that fiction creates some entertaining scenarios from the imagination of the writer but real life gives you events and inspiration that is beyond anyone’s imagination. Real people do the unimaginable. They are not logical from their inception and only through suffering do they learn how not to get burned. In other words real people are more absurd in their actions than any fiction writer could ever imagine.
The original sin makes perfect sense to me. We are born empty vessels without knowledge. You can say to a child, “do not touch the frying pan it is hot," but be sure to have burn salve and a bandage handy because they will do exactly what you told them not to do. They are not stupid, they just do not know and why should they believe you are telling them the truth; once burned they know and are more inclined to trust what their parent has told them is the truth. Stupidity, on the other hand, I define as, could learn but refuses’. There are a few people that fit this category. You may know some that are this way. They keep repeating the same mistake over and over. Most of these fools are lovers who wear their heart on their sleeve, only to have it broken again and again.
Pray for the child raised by the cruelty of lies or perhaps ignorance or even stupidity. Perhaps this is our condition. The blind taught by the blind and our God is not a rock we can touch or ever see.
So I am stupid. I could learn but I refuse. I’m prone to follow the scent of the burning sacrifice and I forget how I got burned. I then find myself again in lament and refrain weeping over my burn and my stupidly of making the same mistake over and over again.
I am giving this novel a rating of restricted. It could be a bad influence on the young, for the things portrayed here are of which many that I do not approve; for this fiction is not really a fiction at all.
It takes place in a city by a river that has seven hills. Some were called mountains but they were not really mountains at all; just hills above the river valley.
Of course there were the obvious four hills which were called the north, south, east and west hills. Coming through the turn of the century and building up to the nineteen fifties only the well-to-do could afford to live in the hills above the city. Most working class people lived close to work which was in the city. After world war two the great suburban movement began. Housing was moving to the hills.
Of course birds of a feather… you know the cliché. The west hills area was mostly German Catholic. The east hills area was mostly a melting pot of working class and backwoods country folk. The south hills area was mostly tradesman and union workers of all religions. The north hills area was largely undeveloped high cost land. Then there were the mountains which were not really mountains but got named as Mts.
Mt. Artsy was where the art museum and conservatory was, and as it is named, the well-to-do rich and famous lived there. Mt. Reserved was a Jewish enclave, very well-to-do with lots of mansions. There was Mt. Fresh Air just above the metropolis. You could hear the barges on the river and the trains banging their cars together hooking up in the morning which made a loud booming sound that could be heard for miles and the rumble of traffic and commerce in a busy city on the move below.
Of course these are fictitious names of these Mts. they called Mountains that represent my remembrance and could be any city from the mid west to the Atlantic Ocean. It really does not matter which one. See if you can guess.
So we begin in 1974. The actual times and dates are very important for this is history, and it describes how we got to where we are.
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TJ Ginn – Author – Philosopher – Theologian - Titles "The Ecstasy for my Dream"' "The Children of the Seven Hills" "Dilation" "Ginn's Yankee Clipper."
Page Updated Last on: Sep 13, 2011