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    The Road to Paradise
    The Road to Paradise
    The Road to Paradise
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    The Road to Paradise

    By André Taylor

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    About this ebook

    The streets knew him as Gorgeous Dre in the Hughes Brothers documentary, American Pimp. The Federal correctional institute knew him as number 33599-048. Now as Andre Taylor, he shares his experiences and observations, as he takes you on an expedition through the fog of hidden truths that circle, on the road to paradise. The antidote to cure mans blindness to Gods Providence that Taylor speaks of was created through struggle and suffering. But both struggle and suffering are created by times delay to bring forth a happy ending and happy endings, we learn, are only perceptions that change as your outer layer is stripped, piece-by-piece in the process, as you walk the road to paradise. You will never see God in the same way again, but you will see Him. This book can give you the answer to what you always wanted to know: Is God real? Is He alive? Does He talk to man? Even though dim is the light on the actions of Gods Hand, Andr Taylors treatise on his walk with God, illuminates that shadow.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateJul 20, 2005
    ISBN9781467065634
    The Road to Paradise
    Author

    André Taylor

    André Taylor was on his own at 16. He was ordained as a minister at age 18. He became a pimp at age 23–by 30 he was in Federal prison. Six months after being released from prison, he was invited to lecture at U.N.L.V. University, which he accepted several times. He is now married, an entrepeneur and continues to lecture at college campuses. André Taylor lives in Los Angeles, where he heads his new movement, Streetsweeper Ministries.

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      Book preview

      The Road to Paradise - André Taylor

      Contents

      Prologue

      Acknowledgements

      Chapter One: The Foundation

      Chapter Two: The Street Life

      Chapter Three: Athena

      Chapter Four: The Knowledge

      Chapter Five: God’s Demand for Payment

      Chapter Six: The Revelation of Paradise

      Chapter Seven: The Angel,

      The Future and Hell

      About the Author

      Prologue

      If you can change God, and conform Him by your opinion of who you think He is-what you think-He should be or do, then you become God. It is you who must be conformed to God’s ways. The flesh, the natural man with all his desires, ideas and philosophies, must be broken before God as though dead. All knowledge that is written in a book is first experienced. The revelation, knowledge, and information in this book have come from a twenty year developmental process walking with God-through despair, incarceration, anxiety, failure, riches, lasciviousness, women, family, the church, the streets, visions, dreams, and the spirit. All were ordained by God for my development as a prophet. A prophet is a person God has chosen for a particular time in the earth, to speak or bring about God’s will. Each one is the voice of God and normally each of them are hidden by a life that seems contrary to his calling. But when they are fully developed for their mission, God brings them out of their hiding place, to bring a vision, a word from God and judgement in the earth.

      I dedicate this book to Eugene Morgan, who was the human angel God used to lighten my load through jail, prison, and probation. I love you Gene.

      Thus saith the Lord, It was I the Holy Ghost that touched Gene’s heart and caused him to help you.

      Acknowledgements

      I express my love to my wife, Athena Taylor—no ifs, whats or maybes—she’s the real thing from heaven. To my father Mel Taylor, who was reserved on verbal support, but with a love fully tilted in my favor, I admire you. To my family, and to my friends, who became family and brought support in times of despair, I bless you. To my editor, Nancy Padrón, who became my mother so that she could hear my voice with maternal ears, I love you. And to all those who, when faced with injustice, have the courage to be fair, when having the power to be otherwise, I honor you.

      Chapter One: The Foundation

      Endless years before coming home I had walked a path of broken footsteps, and my eyes told the story, and now I sit traveling through the ruins of my past. The light flickering close to its death seems to hypnotize me as I gaze at the pale painted walls that hug me in my jail cell. I remember having had this feeling once before rushing down the canal of my mother’s womb, as my past flashed before me of nine months in solitary confinement anticipating something new. Only God and I knew the promises we had made to one another, so the humiliation associated with people pointing the finger at me, I knew, was for my cultivation. I had walked long enough as a caterpillar, but to become a butterfly there first has to be a cocoon; this jail cell was my cocoon. The cocoon comes after baptism by fire, the sprinkling of salt, and the walk as a caterpillar.

      The steps along the pathway of my life were never self-explanatory, but they lured me with the promise of freedom. Life had been this way for me-a lesson within my failed attempts to find myself. Like in the first grade when I skipped school following after Carl, who was a little older than me and seemed to have a more fun. Not knowing my plight for fun and just being six years old kept me from the simple knowledge that is was policy for the school to call home when a student didn’t show up. I got the worst whipping that lasted so long it seemed to have carried a torch that marched on for many years. I knew from this incident that the consequences of my actions will never again be a substitute for the sole responsibility of being my own leader.

      Chow’s on deck. I awoke startled by that consistent statement that was filled with a voice that changed everyday. I felt I heard that saying a thousand times in a day, and each day was a parallel line with forever. I knew that time stopped for no one, but it had a way of pacing itself when the passenger is in a jail cell. I thought about the other inmates-how they must feel-the ones that had never been to Hawaii and snorkeled in Honomu Bay swimming with blue, white, and yellow multicolored fish, or the congregation of Japanese tourists, the ones that had never been to Mardi Gras to see, the Zulu dancers the peacocks of the festival, the ones who could never say they blended in with the young and old dancing in a second line, and the ones who would never eat in Hollywood at the Dar Maghreb where there are Moroccan belly dancers who balance swords on their heads. At least I had my memories. They became so priceless I began to count them like money…a wealth of experience and riches of adventure. I thought about Jose, the little Mexican boy who had just been convicted of murder and was facing two life sentences. I couldn’t even imagine the lifeless feeling of the only thing to look forward to are the days that pass.

      This particular evening nightfall had an eerie tone and aggression was in the air. It was the weekend and we were all locked down in our cells without free time. The air was crowded with complaints and as the voices struggled

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