A Beautiful Corona

As you know, the word “corona” refers to a crown-like object or something roughly trumpet shaped. This spring, “corona” has acquired a very negative association that came with the name of a dangerous virus. However, I would like to take back the word and redeem it right now.

At about 11 pm last night, March 19, 2020, astronomical Spring officially came. The season has not changed that early for 124 years! All the harbingers of this wonderful season have arrived. Robins are headed north and can be found in almost every yard. Flowers can be seen everywhere. Trees, lawns, and gardens are covered with them!

One of my favorite flowers is among the earliest bloomers to trumpet the imminent arrival of Spring. That is the glorious daffodil. Daffodils come in many sizes, shapes, and color combinations. All of them are beautiful in my eyes, and they all have one thing in common. They all possess a colorful cup-shaped structure in the center. Did you know that structure is called the “corona”? Does that not save and redeem all the negative versions and nuances of the word? 


One day, in the fullness of time, all the ultimate harbingers will be in place for the arrival of the highest, most glorious “season” of all, when Jesus Christ arrives to accomplish our most complete rescue, our final redemption, and culmination of all His vows to us, His Bride, the body of believers. Amidst the heraldry of Heavenly trumpets, our King will come to sweep us up and whisk us away, that day. And upon His head will rest the Royal Diadem, the Holy Coronet of Coronation, the Crown of Glory, and He will be wrapped in a corona the likes of which has not yet been seen – the indescribably beautiful Corona of the Divine Light of the Highest Lord!

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Subscribers to Superscribers

I want to sincerely thank all of you subscribers.

Here’s how I look at it:
I’m a simple scribe.
You could be considered to be “under” me – as my “followers”.
Thus, you could be called SUB scribe-ers haha
But I don’t consider you to be “under” or “below” me.
Heaven forbid!

You are higher!
Without you, I’d be nothing!
Who would I “glorytell” to, if not for you?

I think you all should be placed well ABOVE me as SUPER scribe-ers!

Thank you dear reader!
Your reading me is everything!
Sub-scribing is just frosting on the cake!
An underserved blessing!
You are Super!

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A Beautiful Corona

As you know, the word “corona” refers to a crown-like object or something roughly trumpet shaped. This spring, “corona” has acquired a very negative association that came with the name of a dangerous virus. However, I would like to take back the word and redeem it right now.

At about 11 pm last night, March 19, 2020, astronomical Spring officially came. The season has not changed that early for 124 years! All the harbingers of this wonderful season have arrived. Robins are headed north and can be found in almost every yard. Flowers can be seen everywhere. Trees, lawns, and gardens are covered with them!

One of my favorite flowers is among the earliest bloomers to trumpet the imminent arrival of Spring. That is the glorious daffodil. Daffodils come in many sizes, shapes, and color combinations. All of them are beautiful in my eyes, and they all have one thing in common. They all possess a colorful cup-shaped structure in the center. Did you know that structure is called the “corona”? Does that not save and redeem all the negative versions and nuances of the word? 


One day, in the fullness of time, all the ultimate harbingers will be in place for the arrival of the highest, most glorious “season” of all, when Jesus Christ arrives to accomplish our most complete rescue, our final redemption, and culmination of all His vows to us, His Bride, the body of believers. Amidst the heraldry of Heavenly trumpets, our King will come to sweep us up and whisk us away, that day. And upon His head will rest the Royal Diadem, the Holy Coronet of Coronation, the Crown of Glory, and He will be wrapped in a corona the likes of which has not yet been seen – the indescribably beautiful Corona of the Divine Light of the Highest Lord!

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For Hailey, A Tale of Treasure

He felt humble as he began to write using the same words which so often before had been completely foreign to him. Yet, today they flowed onto the paper like honey, sweet and rich. He ran his hands through his whitening hair and touched the short beard on his chin. “I think it’s going to work this time. I tried putting it off, but Wonder won’t leave me alone about it.  It’s time I told it.” :

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The Treasure and Me

The Treasure wanted itself known. It was pressing on the man. It wanted him to tell others about it. Many others. So he began to describe how the Treasure had made itself known to him . . .

He had finally sought it after years of denying its existence. But during many of those years, he had vehemently and sarcastically mocked those who claimed to have found it themselves. Some of them tried to tell him about it, tried to explain, but they spouted gibberish! Those weirdos spoke a different language – an alien language! In addition, they made the Treasure sound almost alive, like some sort of entity with some kind of life of its own. All he could picture was a large wooden chest bound with iron, and overflowing with gemstones, pearls, gold jewelry, and silver.

He had tried to read their book and their maps when they gave him copies, but that was the same. What little he could make of them sounded like fairy tales, like superstition, like antiquated, irrelevant, make-believe. “Chances are this thing does not exist. Does it? No. Hogwash. Impossible. It’s not logical. It’s not scientific. A huge waste of time.” he would say to himself, and anyone nearby.

Out on the western frontier, he became associated with people who also denied the Treasure. They hated it. They made crude jokes about it, and also about the people who proclaimed they had found it. The man went along with them; joined them in their vicious mocking and their stone throwing. After a time, he realized the weirdos weren’t all that bad. They were at least peace-loving and kind, for the most part. Some were not, but who could judge? Could it be that some were not true to their beliefs? Every belief system had its posers. Rumors went around that very bad things had been done to some of them. That bothered him. To his great shame, he remembered the memory he’d repressed, that his own dear mother had loved the Treasure and had tried to lead him to it. Perhaps his friends were a bit too extreme. Perhaps they were the more delusional ones in their persecution of the Treasure People. He realized they may not have been the best kind of so-called friends.

He went his own way. He just didn’t know what he thought about the mysterious Treasure. He became quiet about the matter. It went beyond skepticism, he just didn’t think, worry, or care about it any longer. Still something was missing. In the desert of his life there were holes in the sand that needed filling. The things he filled them with brought no satisfaction. He was always thirsty. There were obstacles, too many boulders in his way. He traveled through dark valleys “on foot” and alone. If there were companions, they didn’t last long. They added very little. Then there was the hunger – always the hunger for something, something . . . more.

But what could it be?

His life became unstable; fishing a lake on an aspen-forested mountain one day, and stuck in a pool of mud in a canyon of brambles the next. Cycle and repeat. On the happy trails through the mountain tops, there was no thought of anything but the blinding distraction of his own pleasure, but in the mud pits, the thorny mazes, and the fearsome, predator-infested valleys, the subtle Treasure called to him with a whisper, like breeze through the pines, or the far-off echo of a voice. The voice spoke survival and rescue. It resonated.

Occasionally, the man encountered more Treasure People. One or two at a time, they hinted that the Treasure would be the answer to his problems, would change his life for the better, and would save him from his self-indulgent ways, which were indeed becoming a problem. One of them gave him a map with a dotted line and a big red “X”, but he still couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t read it. Another showed him in their book where it said how to find it. And still others told him what it was and even what it looked like. They still maintained that it had mysterious properties, and possessed a life of its own. His inner, stubborn skeptic raged silently. “The words they use are too different. Not cipherable! Fairy tales made of gibberish and childish nonsense! Superstition!    It. Does. Not. Exist!”

Time passed. The hunger remained in the pit of his being. He slid downhill into worse predator-infested briar-valleys. The fishing lakes all dried up. He endured endless searching in endless nightmares where he ran in slow motion, unable to escape monstrous wolven evils snapping at his back. Waking in a cold sweat, he shuddered, “Maybe there is something to this Treasure business . . .  something. I’ve tried everything else.” Maybe I could use me some Treasure right now, but how . . . ?

It didn’t take long, and in the most unlikely place, it began to happen. He had the good fortune to find a cheap old horse, and slowly rode west. Riding into a tiny town on the edge of nowhere, he tied up his horse, walked into the nondescript saloon, sat down at the bar, ordered bourbon, straight, swallowed it, and stared into the mirror behind the bottles. He hardly recognized himself, and didn’t at all recognize the nice-looking woman who was walking up behind him. She looked out of place here, more of a kindly stranger than a barfly. He turned around, but before he could say anything, she asked gently, “You’re looking for it, aren’t you?”

“What’s that?” he responded, caught off guard.
“You know.”
“How . . . what . . .” his face flushed, “Nope, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The Treasure. You’re looking. I think it’s been calling to you.”
“How do you . . . sorry I’m forgetting my manners,” he said as he stood, removing his hat. “Would you like to have a seat here, or at a table?”
“Here is just fine,” she smiled.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked her as they sat.”
“I don’t drink, but a cool glass of water would be good.”
“Barkeep, cancel that second bourbon and bring two cool aguas, please.” He was trying to be cool, himself.
“It’s been calling you, right?” She couldn’t be sidetracked.
He looked down at his hands and groped for a clever comeback. “Well, everybody on the frontier wants their pot of gold.”
“But I’ve found it. It’s not anything like what you think.”
“I . . . I tried. I don’t think . . . I don’t see how it could really exist . . .”
“Oh, it does! It’s very real. I have it, and it means everything to me! I’m not lying. Once you have it, it is very difficult to lie. I have it, my friend.”
“I’ll bet you are going to give me a cryptic, nonsensical map now, aren’t you, and read to me from a children’s book of gibberish fairy tales?”
“No sir, it’s much simpler than that. All I have with me is my own testament, my own first-hand story, and it is the pure truth.”
“Say, what is your name, Ma’am?” There was some kind of attraction, something “winning” about her.
“Names are not important right now,” she was not going to be deflected. “The genuine bond we are forging doesn’t require that. Are you feeling it? You will always remember our conversation in detail.”
“Yes, something is different this time. Okay then, so you know about this Treasure. Why not just tell me where it’s buried? I’ll ride out and dig it up today!”

“I’ll tell you this. First, you must turn and go the opposite direction. You can get it, but you have to go the other way. And it is essential that you believe in it. You are a hard case, Mister, but you are right on the edge. You need a convincing little bump. That’s why I’m here. The Treasure is nothing like your preconceived notions about it. It is not buried in the sand under a cactus, or in some cave in the hills. It is nothing like what anybody you know says it is like, unless you know some Treasure People. They know. Of course, I am one of them, as you must have guessed by now.”

“The other way? What does that even mean? But you’re right, the biggest part of me doesn’t believe it’s real, and the words that tell of it are alien to me. But I want to think that the Treasure is real. I am beginning to see the hope, and the joy, and the peace it gives you. It’s all over your face. You kind of . . . ‘light up’ . . . with it, and if it does that for you, maybe it will do it for me too. I really want to have what you have.”

“I know. It shows doesn’t it. Especially when your eyes begin to be able to see it.”

“But why would you want to give me the Treasure when it means so much to you? Before long, you won’t have any left.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Sharing it with others only increases its value. It is unlimited in that way. And everyone should share in its wealth. It is not only Treasure to share, but a personal Treasure at the same time.”

“I trust you, Ma’am. I feel like I can believe you. So how do I learn to read the words that tell how to find where my Treasure can be found, where it is buried . . . or, um, whatever?”

Taking a scrap of paper, she began writing on it with a pencil she had with her. As she wrote, she said, “Once you lay aside your unbelief in it, the Treasure will begin to reveal itself to you. Your eyes have been blinded to it by the evil of this world, but the Treasure will make them see! Watch for it. There will be signs!” And with that, she showed him what she had written in large cursive letters on the scrap of paper. There was a large “X” and some unintelligible words written beneath it.

“But, once again, I can’t read this . . . and, of course, here’s that “X”.” He looked at her, crestfallen.

“You might not understand me saying this right now because the Treasure transcends complete understanding, but just know that I do love your soul. One can’t help loving every soul when one knows the Treasure, but the Treasure does have a life of its own, far beyond what you know as “life”, and it loves you far more than I can – infinitely more! You can find it here . . .  With that, she smiled, stood, and gently pressed the message she had written to his chest, and said, “It is right here – it was all the time – you will find it here. We will meet again, one day.”

He put his hand over the note. He looked into her eyes. One eye twinkled and the other sparkled, and she gazed straight into his. She seemed to possess a sort of glow as she said, “The Treasure is True Life, all else is death. It’s yours! Never let it go!” With that she backed out of the saloon through the swinging doors.

He stared, immobile, as the doors swung, and finally stood and exclaimed, “Hey, wait!    Loves me?    Come back!    In seeming slow motion, he went to the doors, looked up and down the dusty street, and sighed. Only his horse was there swishing its tail. She was gone. He went back inside and paid the bartender, who unexpectedly said, “Yore a lucky man. She was sure sumthin’.”

“Sure was!” He folded the note, put it in his shirt pocket, went to his horse, and rode out of town thinking he might follow her dust and catch up. There were no tracks he could find, and there was no dust, so he found a place to camp for the night and decided to cook some beans and hardtack. Getting the supplies from his saddle bags, he found the book. “It must have been her. She must have left me this!” He laid it on the log while he cooked, then read it as he ate. There was a notation on the inside cover.

“Sorry to have left you so suddenly, but I wanted you to concentrate on the message, not on me. I am merely your messenger. True, I do have a special skill-set. I knew just how to speak to you because we have a lot in common. Others planted seeds in you, but those could not flourish until I gave them special care. I speak your language. I knew it once, long ago. I imparted a better one into you. Now you will be able to read the book. Every word of it will point you to the Treasure. One more thing, my friend, don’t forget to read the note in your pocket.”
“With love,
Ma’am.”

Incredulous, he fumbled the book. Full of questions, he fished the scrap of paper out of his pocket. All was silent as he unfolded the paper. The “X” was there and the letters were clear – he could read them this time.

Χ
Π ÂΜ hεrε .
I ÂΜ γσυrš  αη∂  γôû  ârê  Μîηξ.
Π ωîιι  αιωαγš  βε ωîτh  γôû !
Hανε fαîτh îη Μξ .
ιôνê ,
Τ

Then, he understood. Not everything, but enough. Life? Death? Treasure! None of it was like he had thought it to be. In the morning, he turned and went the opposite way . . .

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Years later, after following all the signs, and experiencing continuous peace, and joy, and the companionship of other Treasure People, and the incomparable love of his Treasure, (which he named Wonderful – “Wonder”, for short) and after thoroughly reading the book he hadn’t been able to read, he found that his messenger had been right about everything. Every time he read from it, something new was revealed about Wonder. He came to know Wonder better every day, and relished the constant presence of Wonder in his life.

On reflection, the man came to the realization that his messenger had not only spoken his language, but it was in a female voice. A voice very similar to that of his dear mother. Just whom he had needed, she was indeed Treasure-sent! Ma’am was also right about wanting to share the message. He was compelled to tell others of his Wonder. He told all kinds of people, most of whom had heard something of the Treasure, but could not fathom the words, nor the concept of its reality, therefore many of them refused to listen, or they were sarcastic, or they made light of it. Sometimes, they even showed him their hate and anger. He was often cast out, reviled, and laughed at, but he was undaunted. He remembered, and put himself in their places. He kept sharing the Wonder, planting the seeds of it, having faith that they would someday grow. And he found things in common with the people. He found he could often speak their language, their language of love. Some of those who recognized the language wanted to learn it, and learned to read it. They have their Wonder and the Wonder has them, and we all stand here on the X beneath the waterfall of Treasure together. We all went the opposite way to the ultimate Life, and will never turn back.

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Miss Hailey,
Thank you for reading this allegory. You inspired it! If you don’t remember me and my friend and what we discussed briefly at the “diner”, that’s alright, I’m certain that you’ve figured out the hidden meaning of this piece. It was woven together just for you. I may be your first messenger, or your final one, but I hope you take this to heart.  Whether to pursue the Treasure is the most important decision that you will ever make.
Best wishes, lots of encouragement, and unconditional love to you.
Gloryteller

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Plan and Plant for Harvest

 

 

One thing I’ve learned in my many years is that there can’t be a harvest unless something is planted – usually seeds – and many more than you expect to grow.

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Morning Star

 

The holy night of His birth, with shining glory and gleaming star,
Was the brightest night on earth, so far.
The sky was ethereal, with angels adorned,
But ordained events passed, and soon it was morn,
Daytime, in which He was called “Morning Star”!
People saw glimmers and set out from afar.

Now morning, midday, evening, and night,
His glory outshines all, and He is our Light.
Children and parents, husbands and wives,
He’s The One Living Light for each of our lives!
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Still

After a long, busy, tiring, but pleasurable, Advent, I find myself still and resting in peace today. What an eventful time I’ve had here at “Gloryteller” over the last three weeks and three days! It passed so quickly, I can hardly catch my breath!
I’ve learned new things about the Christ Child’s birth and some of the “old” things have struck me in new ways. I went deep into the Profound Mystery, and today, after the crescendo buildup of excitement surrounding

The Birth That Shook The Earth,

I find myself overwhelmed;
physically and emotionally 
drained,
but spiritually uplifted . . .  

The Baby is sleeping peacefully now.
He and His family have endured a world-changing night;
A mother-changing, husband-changing, son-changing night!
I feel like I went through it with them, in a sense . . .
And, at this moment, about all I can do
is be still and adore Him,
be still in the knowledge that He is my Lord God,
be still and worship Him,
be still and rest here at His feet . . .

Still, still, still,
His bright eyes softly close
And Mary, breathless,
Draws him sleeping
To her heart,
Made pure for keeping
Still, still, still,
His bright eyes softly close.

Sleep, sleep, sleep,
He hears, and sweetly smiles.
And kneeling Joseph
Joins in chorus
With the angels
Bending o’er us
Sleep, sleep, sleep,
He hears, and sweetly smiles.

Sleep, Sleep, Sleep,
He breathes a tender sigh,
For soon he’ll wake
The world from slumber
Bringing life
And endless wonder
Sleep, Sleep, Sleep
He breathes a tender sigh

Sleep, Holy Jesus,
Sleep . . .

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I really like this Austrian Christmas carol in the form of a lullaby.
(a “lullbaby” perhaps?)
It so saturates me with peace . . .
But now I must sadly, yet joyfully, send out one last,
heartfelt,
Merry Christmas
and wishes for peace to you this season.
It is Christmas night, 2019,

Goodnight
from Len, here at Gloryteller.com

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  Für Juli
 Stille, stille, stille,
Seine hellen Augen schließen sich leise
Und Maria, atemlos,
Zieht ihn schlafend
Zu ihrem Herzen,
Rein zum Halten gemacht
Immer noch, immer noch, immer noch,
Seine hellen Augen schließen sich leise.

Schlaf Schlaf Schlaf,
Er hört und lächelt freundlich.
Und kniend Joseph
Joins im Chorus
Mit den Engeln
Über uns gebeugt
Schlaf Schlaf Schlaf,
Er hört und lächelt freundlich.
 
Schlaf Schlaf Schlaf,
Er atmet einen zärtlichen Seufzer,
Denn bald wird er aufwachen
Die Welt aus dem Schlummer
Leben bringen
Und endloses Wunder
Schlaf Schlaf Schlaf
Er atmet einen zärtlichen Seufzer
 
Schlaf, heiliger Jesus Schlaf
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Christmas Eve 2019 – The Hunger

The last few hours of The Advent of Christ are before us.
We can wait no longer and we don’t need to.
Our hunger for hope, peace, joy, and love, is hard to bear;
We prepare the meal we will eat tonight after church.
We know we will be hungry for that food too,
but I want my hunger for Jesus to be foremost!

We can stay awake watching long into the night,
or go to sleep and let Him be born in peace.
Either is fine, for in the morning we will have the certainty
of Jesus’ birth!

The birth that shook the earth!

About 2020 years ago, everything was in place
to bring the astounding event into reality for humanity.
God’s gracious, merciful plan was about to
take a new turn and reach a new level.

In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
And the Word became human.

And the Word was named Jesus,
He was born in a stable,
wrapped in cloth, and placed in a manger to sleep . . .

Placed in a manger . . .
Have you ever thought about that?
A manger is a type of feed trough for animals.
Here on the farm we call that a “feeder”.

It occurs to me that Jesus, lying in that feeder,
seems to have made Himself a symbol
for our spiritual nourishment!
Both a symbol and a reality all at once!

Is it any wonder that He told Peter, “Feed my sheep”?
Is it any wonder that He called Himself

“The Bread of Life”, or spoke over some bread, saying
This is my body“?
He wants us to partake of Himself!
To drink deeply!
“The Bread of Life”, and “The Water of Life”!

He, lying in that feeder, was already telling us,
“I AM your nourishment, your sustenance;
Come to Me and be filled”!

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Happy Christmas Eve!
Your Gloryteller

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The BIRTH !


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His birth!
It simply rocked!

This rock!
Knew not its worth!

Until The Birth!
The Birth That Rocked The Earth!
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Suddenly Sunday – The Fourth Sunday of Advent

 

The Fourth Sunday of Advent
Today, December 22, 2019, is the fourth Sunday of Advent.
Already!
We light the fourth candle – the love candle,
in my book, the easiest one to light in the heart,
for Father God loved us first and sent His Jesus
to enable us to love Him in a completely new way, and
interact, and have a real relationship with Him.
Love rescued, and love reconciled!
This candle also signifies His imminent presence.
The Advent season is all about expectant waiting;
excited, hopeful, waiting for the Baby’s presence!
We want Him to be born soon!
We want to see Him!
He seems so close;
the air is charged!
We can almost feel angels in the air.
The Spirit of God certainly presides over our village.
Tomorrow night, everything will be poised,
miraculously in position,
as it was around 2020 years ago!
Mary, her Baby, Joseph, shepherds,
angels – lots of angels!
Peace and joy are closing in.
Tuesday night is the Holy Night – Jesus Christ’s night.
The Advent of Christ is all but complete!

Are preparations perfect?
Is my heart ready for His arrival?
I find myself wishing that I could be less imperfect;
better prepared,
And more ready.
Yet, hope in Him, the peace and joy He brings,
His love, and all His magnificent light,
uphold and uplift my soul.
I am ready as I can be for Jesus’ arrival!
Soon, incarnation!
Soon, adoration!
Soon, celebration!

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He. Came. Down.


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He Came Down

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He came down.
Mary said YES,
then He came down.
Born like us.
Born with us.
Born for us.
Born to us.
Born unto us.
Born into us.
He came down from His Glory,
Leaving Holy Home and Father, to become a creation, in a real sense, just like us . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
To be born most humbly into the broken, reeking mess that we, mankind, had made of the world.
To be born into the shameful, smelly mess that I had made of my own wretched heart . . . . . . . . . . .
The defenseless egg of God,
having scarcely a shell.
A tender shoot,
a tiny lamb,
he came down naked,
to be born covered
with another’s blood,
mother’s blood.
Born to be pierced,
and poured out,
and to ‘cover’ all
others with His
pure, holy blood.
He came down
with only Love as a defense.
Double-sided love.
He came down to the dung heap,
the lowest, the basest of places,
a place of no honor; of ignobility,
because that’s where I was,
I and my neighbors,
hiding under the
layers of earthly dirt.
He could have said
“No, not again”.
He could have said
“To hell with this” . . .
He didn’t have to
rise from His manger
to knock on my
heart’s door.
To clean it all,
just like new,
from ceiling to floor,
window, to wall,
and spend His life,
His all, for me,
to bear away my sin.
Yet, He would be
the first to admit,
if He weren’t so humble,
that He did have to.
Someone had to
do something.
But no-one could,
except Himself.
I didn’t deserve
His coming down, this
Wonderful Counselor,
this Mighty God,
Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.
This Immanuel.
Savior Lord.
JESUS CHRIST!
But, He came down,
out of love,
bearing light,
carrying forgiveness,
sowing grace like seeds,
ready with a cool drink,
gentle hands to wash our feet,
with tears of compassion,
where sin and mercy meet,
and I’m so glad,
so happy,
so joyously thankful
that He did,
that my meager glory goes up.
I send it up.
I glorify His name,
Who was born into many names,
and into ONE name,
and that name is
The-Name-Above-All-Names.
He came down,
and now He reigns
King of My Heart.

Glory to God in the Highest Heaven!
That

He.
Came.
Down!
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The Happiest Christbirth to you, today!
LS< Your Gloryteller
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Carol of the Birds – Let Heaven and Nature Sing!

Yesterday’s post used birds prominently
in a poignant allegory that alluded to
why Jesus had to be incarnated.
This next uses birds prominently
to make another important allusion:

In tribute to the people of his native country, Catalonia, (at the time of this writing in 2017, embroiled in issues with independence from Spain) ninety-four-year-old Pablo Casals, famed cellist, composer, and conductor, had often ended his concerts with “El Cant Dels Ocells” (“The Song of the Birds”), a Catalonian Christmas carol.

“It is so beautiful,” he said, “And it is also the soul of my country, Catalonia.” “The birds in the sky, in the space, sing: “Peace! Peace! Peace!””

Song of The Birds, or, Carol of the Birds, isn’t as widely known as many of the more traditional carols, but I wish it were. (please note that there are two or three songs which have the same name, but different lyrics and tunes.) (and even this Catalonian song has several different versions)

I am fascinated by the idea that the birds might represent nature, or the created universe, when it first becomes “aware” of The Creator’s arrival inside His creation. What happiness, and joy, and awe, and peacefulness, is expressed by these “voices of nature”.

This may be frivolous speculation on my part, wondering how nature “perceives” its Creator; is it somehow “conscious” or “aware” of Him in a way we cannot understand, we aren’t conscious of, and can’t have much knowledge of? And maybe not “individual” awareness like that of one rock or mountain, but a collective awareness with the whole of Creation giving glory and being glory for our mighty God.

 I know a few people who hear this music as haunting, morose, even depressing.
Not me!
I hear bright awe and respect;
deep and joyous, sacred mystery;
gentle, peaceful, yet glorious and ecstatic, worship,
in reverence for the Christ-child.

How do you perceive it?

Below are four different lyrical versions of “Carol of the Birds”.
There may be more, I’m not certain,
but these are poetic, and deep,
 compelling, and emotional.
One could almost imagine that nature,
or Creation, is praying to, and worshiping,
our all knowing, all encompassing, Creator-God;
Our Christ-child, our Jesus. The version directly below
contains the verses used in the video.
If you don’t have time to read the different
versions, please skip down to my commentary
to find some of the things
all the versions have in common.

~ ~ ~

The words given below are as most commonly sung
in the English version;

A star rose in the sky
and glory from on high
did fill the night with splendor.
Came birds with joyful voice
to carol and rejoice with
songs so sweet and tender.

The eagle then did rise,
went flying through the skies,
to tell the wondrous story,
sang: Jesus, born is he,
who comes to set us free,
he brings us joy and glory.

The sparrow with delight
said: This is Christmas night,
our happiness revealing.
The sky with praises rang,
as finch and robin sang
their songs of glad rejoicing.

The lark upon the wing
said: Now it seems like spring,
no more is winter pressing;
for now a flower is born
whose fragrance on this morn
to earth brings heaven’s blessing.

Sang magpie, thrush, and jay,
It seems the month of May
in answer to our yearning.
The trees again are green
and blossoms now are seen,
it is the spring returning!

The cuckoo sang: Come, come,
And celebrate the dawn
this glorious aurora.
The raven from his throat
then trilled a festive note
to the unexcelled Señora.

The partridge then confessed,
I want to build my nest
beneath that very gable
where I may see the Child
and watch whene’er he smiles
with Mary in that stable.

~ ~ ~ 

A more literal translation from the Catalonian:

In seeing emerge
The greatest light
During the most celebrated of nights,
The little birds sing.
They go to celebrate Him
With their delicate voices.

The imperial eagle
flies high in the sky,
singing melodically,
saying, “Jesus is born
To save us all from sin
And to give us joy.”

The sparrow responds,
Today, this Christmas Eve,
Is a night of good cheer!”
The greenfinch and the siskin
Say in singing, too,
“Oh, what joy I feel!”

The linnet sang,
“Oh, how lovely and beautiful
Is the child of Mary!”
The thrush answers:
“Death is conquered,
My life now begins!”

The nightingale twitters,
“He is more beautiful than the sun,
More brilliant than a star!”
The redstart and the stonechat
Celebrate the infant
And his virgin Mother.

The wren sang
For the glory of the Lord,
Inflating with fantasy;
The canary follows:
Its music sounds like
A great song from Heaven.

Now comes the woodlark
Saying, “Come birds
To celebrate the dawn!”
And the big blackbird, whistling,
Went celebrating
The greatest Lady.

The tit says,
“It is neither winter nor summer
But rather springtime;
A flower is born
That gives a sweet smell all around
And fills the whole world.”

The francolin sang,
“Birds, who wants to come
Today at daybreak
To see the good Lord
With all of his splendor
Within a stable?”

The hoopoe goes singing,
“This night has come
the greatest of Kings!”
The turtle dove and rock dove
Admire, and to all
Sing without sadness.

Woodpeckers and bullfinches
Fly between fruit trees
Singing their joys.
The quail and the cuckoo
From afar have come
To see the Messiah.

The partridge sang,
“I am going to make my nest
Inside of that stable,
To look upon the Infant;
How he trembles
In the arms of Mary.”

The magpiemistle thrush, and jay
Say, “May is coming!”
The goldfinch responds,
“All the trees become green again,
All the branches flower
As if it were the spring.”

The chaffinch whispers,
“Glory today and tomorrow;
I feel great joy
To see the diamond
So handsome and brilliant
In the arms of Mary.”

The scops owl and little owl
Seeing the sunrise
Leave confused.
The tawny owl and eagle-owl
Say, “I cannot look;
Such splendors are in front of me!”

~ ~ ~

Joan Baez version:

When rose the eastern star, the birds came from a-far,
in that full might of glory.
With one melodious voice, they sweetly did rejoice,
and sang the wondrous story.
Sang, praising God on high, enthroned above the sky,
and his fair mother Mary.
The eagle left his lair, came winging through the air,
his message loud arising.
And to his joyous cry, the sparrow made reply,
his answer sweetly voicing.
“O’ercome are death and strife, this night is born new life”,
the robin sang rejoicing.
When rose the eastern star, the birds came from a-far.

~ ~ ~

Beautiful lyrics of unknown origin:

1. Upon this holy night,
When God’s great star appears,
And floods the earth with brightness
Birds’ voices rise in song
And warbling all night long
Express their glad heart’s lightness
Birds’ voices rise in song
And warbling all night long
Express their glad heart’s lightness

2. The Nightingale is first
To bring his song of cheer,
And tell us of His glad – ness:
Jesus, our Lord, is born
To free us from all sin
And banish ev’ry sadness!
Jesus, our Lord is born
To free us from all sin
And banish ev’ry sadness!

3. The answ’ring Sparrow cries:
“God comes to earth this day
Amid the angels flying.”
Trilling in sweetest tones,
The Finch his Lord now owns:
“To Him be all thanksgiving.”
Trilling in sweetest tones,
The Finch his Lord now owns:
“To Him be all thanksgiving.”

4. The Partridge adds his note:
“To Bethlehem I’ll fly,
Where in the stall He’s lying.
There, near the manger blest,
I’ll build myself a nest,
And sing my love undying.
There, near the manger blest,
I’ll build myself a nest,
And sing my love undying.

~ ~ ~

What are some of the things these different versions have in common?

The most celebrated holy night
in which a great light appears.
The heavens are filled with God’s glory!

The earth is flooded with brightness.
That illumination allows birds to awake, fly and sing,
when most do not do so in darkness.

From eagle to sparrow, all kinds of birds
sing of Jesus’ birth.
They extol the virtues of Him and His mother.
They praise the Highest Lord
with voices both loud and sweet.

The birds come from near and far away,
and sing of how He will set them,
and all creation free.
They joyfully sing of how Heaven’s blessing
has come to earth, and of how He will overcome
darkness, sin, and death.

The birds sing of the dawn of new life;
eternal springtime blooming;
they sound thankful and hopeful.
They worship and adore Him!
They want to stay near Him;
They pledge loyalty.

Best of all, the multitude of birds rejoice!

And who do these birds represent?
Nature?
All of creation?
Yes, all of that, and maybe
me.
And you.
And all of us.
~ ~ ~
Merry Christmas!
Sing loudly and sweetly!

Len @ Gloryteller.com

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Jesus, Joy of the Highest Heaven

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A Children’s Christmas Carol for Everyone

I lift up Keith and Kristyn Getty and I thank them for this beautiful song.
And I thank Him for them!
And I thank Him for you, my dear reader!

 

This baby, making His first sounds, learning His first words, 
taking His first steps, becoming self-aware.
Like us in every way.
Yet, in every way, different.

 

“Come to turn me, a stranger, into a child of God.”
Remember, JESUS is the subject of Christmas, and the object of Christmas is US.

LS

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Advent, Week Three!

Today, the third and final full week of Advent begins, preceding the joy-filled celebration day!
It is getting closer! We can hardly wait! Intensity grows, as does the magnitude of the hope we have,
and the peace which is coming!
This week we savor the JOY surrounding His coming to live with us!
Emmanuel – is coming here because of The Father’s love for all people.

In this third week, we also remember all the proclamations made about our coming Christ-child, our Messiah, our glorious Savior; proclamations by Isaiah, by angels, by Elizabeth, by Mary, by Zechariah, by more angels, and by many others.

Luke 2:9 Just then, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! For behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people!

He is coming, not to condemn the lost, but to give them a saving light.
What joy it is to know Him, having been one of those lost, and now bathed in His light.
And what a joy it is to know the astounding love of The Father,
Who sent 
this generous gift of His Son!

I, the least of believers,
proclaim this joy, 
proclaim His glory,
(like it says in the header above)
And like so many believers,
so many bloggers,
I repeat the sounding JOY!

Joy To the World,
and Peace to ALL mankind!

Joy to the World, the Lord has come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing!

Joy to the World, the Savior reigns!
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy!

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found!

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love!
~ ~ ~

May God bless your joyous preparations,
your happy, yet serious, contemplations,
your thankful remembrance of His purpose for
coming down,
And of His all- encompassing love.
He is coming, He is here, He is coming again!
REJOICE!

Your Advent Gloryteller

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The Second Week of Advent Begins Today


The second week of Advent is focused on peace.

Waiting becomes slightly more intense as we add the expectancy of
hope and peace in preparation for our Savior’s arrival.
Of course it is a passive intensity of expectation
as we actively wait!

 We light the second candle,
If not on our tables,
Then in our hearts.
And light increases.
It doubles!

We can hardly wait until the full light of His glorious presence shines upon the world, and also upon each of us!

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

Jesus is the only One that can bring us to peace with Father God.

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1).

And suddenly there appeared with the angel a great multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to all mankind upon which His favor rests!” Luke 2: 13-14

Here’s a song that is full of hope and peace,
And light too!


Come to us, Child of Glory,
We can hardly wait.
Come to us quickly,
Your hands hold our fate.
LS<

A happy and blessed Advent season to you
from your Gloryteller.

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Advent Arrives Today!

“Advent” is here!
It is today! December 1, 2019
Happy Advent and happy December!

All Creation is pregnant with anticipation!

This is the time of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of Jesus’ birth.
The word “Advent” comes from the Latin “adventus” which means coming, or arrival, of a person or thing.

In this special and absolutely unique case,
what is coming is rich in mystery;
profound in its implications!
Excitement builds in Heaven and earth!

I find it interesting that the words “Advent” and “adventure” are so closely related, which is fitting since we are waiting and preparing for the arrival of a series of awe-inducing, exciting events :

All that surrounds Jesus’ Nativity celebration,
A son is to be given,
800 year-old prophecy to be fulfilled,

The imminent arrival of Emmanuel, “God With Us”,
The Kingdom of God being established on Earth,
Reconciliation with the Father,
Renewal of all things,

Rescue of the perishing,
Redemption of souls,
Atonement,
Forgiveness,
Abundant life,
Signs and wonders,
Miraculous acts,
Great Joy will be made available to all people,
Messiah! Savior! Christ! He’s coming, 
alreadynot yet, and soon!
The image of The Father will walk on earth,
The advent of Love!
And more, and more, and more!
And, in the fullness of time, Jesus’ long-awaited final return!

We are waiting, and prayerfully preparing, not just for events, but for the arrival of the Personage
without whom there would be no experience of exciting spiritual adventure, no exploration of things unknown, no real and true experience of love and life whatsoever.

But for the birth of the little Lord Jesus, I could not live.
As He is born, so am I.
So are we all!

I wait and look forward to honoring His birth; to observing the amazing circumstances that surround it.
It has “happened” again and again in countless hearts and minds.
It is happening now in mine,
and will again, endlessly, with passage of time.

The expectant waiting and preparation of my heart applies not only to Christbirth,
but to Resurrection Sunday and Thanksgiving as well.
Advent is an important concept.
It is exciting and peaceful too.
I want to make it part of me;
I want to live it.

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The Reflection

Today, the temperature is dropping quickly. The wind is blowing hard from the north. Our sugar maple has been nearly stripped of its beautiful leaves as have the red maples, and, indeed, all of the deciduous trees. Winter wind chill has arrived with a powerful cold-front and “the wolf is at the door”.
      Yesterday, the sugar maple had more than half of its bright golden leaves intact on its head, and the other trees displayed various hues of reds and yellows, oranges and purples. The sun shone and the day was near perfect. I even went walking without a coat in early morning, down to the trail around the big pond .
     As I rounded the east side, I looked across the pond as is my habit, at the large, colorful trees which have long been standing on the west side. The sky above was that perfect blue which is elusive even on the nicest of days. The perfect sky acted as a backdrop to highlight the colors and shapes of the trees. The sun was at that perfect morning angle that makes things surreally, beautifully, colorfully real.
Suddenly, I looked at the pond’s surface. I saw the reflection of the trees and sky for only a moment, then the surface disappeared! There was no breeze and the surface was like a mirror. There were no ripples, no color difference, no fuzziness, nothing to differentiate the reflection from the “real”. All was still. “So still,” I whispered.
“Be still and know that I AM God,” came the whispered reply.
“I will,” I thought.
Everything but
the pond, trees, and perfect sky kind of disappeared then. It was as though I had entered another dimension where the reflection was the real.

      The upside-down trees were just as “real” to my sight as the upright ones. The colors and shapes of all the leaves stood out sharply. I bent over and looked at the reflection with my head upside-down. I couldn’t tell the difference, but my mind still tried to figure it out. Standing upright, my mind said “The bottom one is the reflection.” I looked into the mirror-pond and thought, “Yes, but the sky is just as deep there as it is high in the real.” The pond had taken on depth as “infinite” as the sky! Wow! Astounding!
      My spirit finally spoke, with the Holy Spirit echoing (or was it the other way ’round?) :  “So it is with Jesus! He is the perfect reflection of The Father here below. Equal in beauty, equal in depth. God and God. Deep and Deep. Highest and Highest. Everlasting and everlasting!” 
      Jesus said: “I and the Father are one.”
                       “He who has seen Me has seen the Father.”
                       “He who beholds Me beholds the One who sent Me.”
                       “The Father is in Me, and I AM in the Father.”
      “So, who are You, then,” I asked The HS. “Are You the place where the “real” and the “reflection” connect? The “fold” where you can flip the two “pages” together and make them match? Are You the breeze that is not blowing this morning? Are You the special way that the sun is shining on this whole scene?”
      “Hahaha! I love you so! I AM, kind of, all of those, but most of all, I Am the One who is helping you to stand here and see!
Now take a last deep look. Drink this in, for the sun is rising, the breeze will soon increase, and this moment will never come again. Go in peace and write! Write soon! Tell this reader of the glory you’ve seen!”

      I drank and drank. I thought and thought. I thanked and thanked. Then I reluctantly turned and walked on air all the way up the hill, and home.

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Burden of Years

In youth we bear the burden of too few years,
As seniors, the burden of too many.
Somewhere between, there is a moment
of enjoying exactly the right amount.
Memorize that moment.
The moment when the “burden” is balanced.
And there you can live!
Free in spirit,
Free in wisdom,
Free of body,
Sitting free of burden at the feet of
The Ancient Of Days.
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Mountain of Love

The new bell tower atop Iron Mountain.

I recently returned from camping on Iron Mountain. That won’t mean much to most of you, but to some folks the mention of Iron Mountain elicits great joy, and happy memories.
Located between Mena and Hatfield, Arkansas, Iron Mountain is the main gathering place in the nation, and really the world, for the CMA. Country Music Awards? No!  Don’t feel bad. That was my first thought too, when I first saw those three letters together. It turns out the CMA acronym I’m talking about stands for Christian Motorcyclist Association! And, in case you thought “Christian bikers” is an oxymoron, there are Christian bikers. A large number of them!
My first taste of CMA was over a year ago when my cousins invited me to the annual “Changing of the Colors” rally at Iron Mountain. My cousins promised good fellowship and worship with them and their fellow CMA-ers. I went expecting to visit with them and worship with maybe two-hundred other Christians, but when I walked into the large auditorium, I was surprised and overwhelmed to see at least ten times that many!
Worship was exuberant and meaningful. I knew the songs and could participate freely and joyfully. It was great to be in the middle of all that with my cousins. The speakers were good at what they are called to do and I learned a great deal about CMA. It is a worldwide organization and one of the most successful of its kind. The thing that captured me is their strong evangelistic goal – to bring the Good News of Jesus to a lost world. That is my calling too, so I was captivated – captured by all that they are “about”. Their fundraising events for world missions are called “Run for the Son”. Their motto is “Here if you need me.”
I quickly did the training and became a member with the indispensable help of my cousins.
I met many, many fine people; people who call me brother; people who call me “family”.
In my home church of about three-hundred, not everyone does that. I have, unfortunately, had people who have seen me in church for fifteen years walk right past without a sign of recognition or a greeting. Not so with CMA! There is no such thing as a stranger. Anywhere on the mountain, an encounter with another person will grant you a smile, a nod of greeting, a handshake, a good word, a pat on the shoulder, even a hug and the exclamation, “Brother”! It is truly one, big, loving family.

As I told a couple from Minnesota with whom I have become close friends, “You are very good at making people feel included. You make me feel like I truly belong!” My cousins A.H., D.H., and T.H. (Yes, you, T., honorary cousin! ) are that way as well. All the CMA is that way!
We all love Jesus and also one another. That is The Great Commandment! We all want to do our part to take the Good News out to the world and make believers. That is The Great Commission!
I’m feelin’ it and I hope they feel it from me.
The presence of Love is all over Iron Mountain, and through the CMA, He radiates outward to the ends of the earth! 

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The Wheat and the Grape – A Sacred Harvest




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I read in Our Daily Bread today that “our Savior hung between Heaven and earth
to bear every sin of every generation on His shoulders.”
He hung between Heaven and me . . .
What pain it gives me to revisit that scene . . .
But the above statement led me to think deeply about
what He had told his disciples
and us,
only the night before He hung there – 
what we must do to remember Him;
to remember who He was,
to remember what He did,
how He did it,
and why.

As I pondered,
and contemplated,
and thought,
“The Lord’s Supper is absolute genius”
is what I concluded.

(not that I think I’m the first, nor the only one, to proclaim that)
(and I know that I foolishly reiterate the obvious,
because of course it’s genius, it’s Jesus! )

He broke the bread and compared it to His body
which would imminently be broken for us.
He poured the wine out and compared it to His blood
which would soon be poured out for us.

“He hung between Heaven and earth.”
He was, and is now, intermediary between us and The Father.
Not as a wall, but as a bridge.
He made a way to raise us to His shoulders,
thus standing between us and the evil one “in the earth”.

As for myself, there is far more here than “meets the eye”.
Have you ever thought about how grains
like corn, barley, rye, and wheat are all separated
from the earth by a woody stem?
The seed head of the wheat plant is the “fruit”, in a sense,
that we use to make our bread.

The same applies to “the fruit of the vine”;
tomatoes, cucumbers, kiwi, guava, and, get this – passion fruit –
and predominantly, grapes.
All grow above the ground on woody or semi-woody vines.
They all contain juice, but grape juice makes “traditional” wine.
(side note: there is great debate whether Jesus’ “fruit of the vine” was unfermented juice, or wine)
I’m in the wine camp because wine stores better, not to mention that the Bible states “wine”.
I won’t even dwell on apple, orange, peach, plum trees, or berry bushes,
each of which produce juicy fruit on woody stems;

but I’m getting off track.

The point is that grapevines, like wheat plants,
produce their fruit “between Heaven and earth” on woody stems,
and the final product of both were used at the Lord’s Supper.
The Last Supper of our Lord!

By now you may be making the connection I’m getting at.
Lord Jesus compared His body to a broken loaf of bread,
and His covenantal blood to the poured-out juice of the grape,
in order that:
“as often as you
eat this bread
and drink this cup,
you will do so in remembrance of Me.”
Connecting His spiritual Self to the physical act of
eating and drinking something specific,
is brilliant in my estimation.

It makes the act sacred, and simultaneously
makes our remembrance of Him sacred.
But for me, it doesn’t end there.
Jesus was always using agricultural metaphors because,
I assume, most everyone in His day knew something of the subject.
Is it a great leap to make that He also connected Himself
with the fruit of the earth?

With harvest?
With life-giving, life sustaining, food and drink?
With saving us from spiritual starvation?

If that connection is only for me to make
in order to strengthen my faith in Him,
to take me deeper into our relationship,
to tell me more of the story I long to know more about,
or to give me insight into something so sacred
that I scarcely can digest it,
Then so be it.
You, dear reader, can make of it what you will.
If it doesn’t do anything for you; if it sounds wrong, leave it.

But here’s the thing:
I maintain that Jesus not only connected Himself to
The Bread and The Cup,
But also to the wheat and the grape.
Rich and ripe,
He stood like a sturdy stalk of wheat
before a terrible threshing,
and He hung like a beautiful cluster of grapes
before a horrible crushing.
He stood and He hung there between Heaven and earth,
between us and oblivion,
between us and eternity,
to intentionally endure the torture of threshing,

and the horrible crushing pain – for us, dear reader. . .
The first and best fruit of the earth,
until the harvest was finished.
He made Himself our everything,
even our spiritual food and drink.
Essential, lifesaving, sacred, and beautiful.

The Lord’s Supper.
The Lord’s Harvest.
Absolute Genius!
Absolute Jesus!

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About The Music Links Below

I don't own, and have no claim on, these music videos. The following are simply links inside my website pointing back to the original locations of the videos. The names of the creators of these videos are cited wherever possible, and only "embedding-enabled" selections are used.

The Basic Christian Library

"Mere Christianity" by C.S. Lewis. This is fundamentally what Christianity is all about.

"The Case for Christ" by Lee Strobel. Another converted atheist presents His compelling case for believing in Jesus.

"Left To Tell" by Imaculee Ilibagiza. This profound work is her own extraordinary story of endurance, discovery of the Holy Spirit, grace, healing, and an astonishingly compelling account of the necessity for forgiveness.

Compelling Christian Fiction Reads

"The Circle" 4-book series by Ted Dekker.
A man is the bridge between two very different worlds. Sound familiar? Can he save both? This T.D. work is brilliant in my book.

"This Present Darkness" and "Piercing the Darkness" by Frank E. Peretti. Tales of spiritual warfare from a unique perspective. Stirred a small controversy, but sold millions. What are we Christians afraid of? Hey, it's fiction!

Copyright Licensing

Creative Commons License
gloryteller.wordpress.com, and all proprietary work found here, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

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My Signature Story

"I AM NOT MY OWN" is the piece that inspired the building of this site. It is the story that this site, as well as my life, is centered around. This letter to you is the one i would most like for you to read out of all the ones you will find here, because it describes how profoundly the works of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit can change one human life.

For Your Reading Enjoyment, This Is Like A Park, Use It, Enjoy It, and Leave Everything Where You Found It.

The content here's not to be used,

But to only be read and perused.

If you copy it off,

My lawyer's not soft,

And your fortune is mine - you got sued!

Gloryteller :-)

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