Let’s get one thing straight: if God made Earth in seven days, He definitely sparked a joint by day three. Picture it—Eden’s built, animals are vibing, Adam’s naked and confused, and the Creator’s on a break, laughing his divine ass off while puffing on a cosmic spliff the size of a forearm. You think omniscience comes without burnout? Hell no. Even God needed something to take the edge off eternity.
Genesis 1:29 practically hands us the blunt. “I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth…” Every. Herb. Bearing. Seed. That’s not just basil and parsley. That’s cannabis, baby. And it wasn’t tucked away—it was a gift. A plant with healing properties, mood elevation, introspective portals, and the ability to make Doritos taste like salvation.
Let’s talk mystics. Real ones. Like Rastafari. They don’t just smoke weed for kicks—they see it as a sacrament. A holy connection to Jah, a path toward wisdom and spiritual communion. Ganja is their burning bush. According to the Encyclopedia of Religion and Nature, Rastas believe cannabis cleanses the soul, opens the mind, and brings them closer to divine truth. That’s church. And it doesn’t come with pews or guilt—just peace and piety with a side of Bob Marley.
Then there’s Carl Sagan—yes, Cosmos Carl—the astrophysicist who smoked pot and wrote under a pseudonym that it helped him appreciate art, music, and even deep philosophical thought. He described cannabis as giving him “serenity and insight.” If the man who explained the universe to us found God in THC, maybe it’s time we stopped pretending weed is just for the lazy and the lost. Maybe it’s a shortcut to the divine—like psalms for the stoned.
And don’t get me started on churches popping up across America with cannabis as communion. The First Church of Cannabis in Indiana is legally recognized. Their religion? Love, laughter, and leafy greens. No altar boys, no damnation—just a circle of folks exhaling spirit and inhaling the sacred.
So maybe it’s time we stop separating God from ganja. Maybe they’re the same energy in different wrappers. Maybe the next time you’re high and gazing at the stars, that warm tingle behind your eyes is a whisper from the universe saying: “You get it.”
Light one. Look up. Listen close.
Keep it weird,
~-JohnsJoints
