We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss,
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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Proclaiming God's Glory Through Posts and Short Stories ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
04 Dec 2020 Leave a comment
We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss,
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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03 Dec 2018 Leave a comment
We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss,
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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15 Dec 2017 Leave a comment
We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss:
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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30 Nov 2017 2 Comments
I took a step onto solid Rock . . .
Their overwhelming touch changed everything –
Everything I thought I knew,
Everything I am.
Changed it all for my good.
They didn’t have to do it;
(or did They, because that is who They are?!)
I didn’t deserve their efforts.
They came nevertheless;
To feed me,
Save my life,
Forgive me,
Deliver me from evil,
Weave me into their plan,
Give my life purpose,
Walk me home,
Give me rest,
And most of all, just love me!
That one step made all the difference.
I am home!
The End,
(of a bad thing)
The Beginning,
(of a glorious thing)
If you haven’t already,
I urge you to turn,
And take a step toward home.
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21 Dec 2016 Leave a comment
We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss,
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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04 Dec 2016 2 Comments
He writes poems.
He writes fantasy fiction stories.
But can he write a “romantic” Christmas story?
We shall see . . .
To my own
Morning Star:
All is calm, all is bright. “Just for us”.
Her First Christmas Card
Between. That’s where he was. Dave was between sleep and consciousness. Between clarity and the fog brought about by unbidden change. Between the deep mystery of Christmas Eve and the lambent hope he always found on Christmas Day.
He was warm and relaxed under Mary’s favorite comforter. Although teetering on the rim of the slope leading back down into the pool of sleep, he began to remember. Years of Christmas memories. Welcome, warm ones. She was in them all from the beginning.
He remembered the greeting card he had bought her before their first Christmas together. Undelivered that first Christmas, he had left it in his sock drawer under his mother’s Bible. It had languished there, regretfully, because of circumstances better left buried. Complicated days, those had been. He had needed to address some personal problems. He had been a fool. Yet, in the months of the following new year, he and Mary had worked their way through those problems with love, respect, and with indispensable Divine help. He gave her the card the next Christmas, when it could be sincerely and wholeheartedly given.
In spite of all their years of experience in the Church, even now, the responsibilities and demands of the season had once more come between them; kept them too much apart yet again; highlighted their differences; hampered communication; brought frustrations, and then prevented resolution of those frustrations. When he tried to picture them together in unity, in oneness, the image of “One Being” kept sliding apart into two images, like that of binoculars which refused to stay in focus. How he longed to have everything right and perfect between them.
So it was only right tonight that he remember that first Christmas card, for reading it together had become one of the centerpieces of their unity during many joyous Christmases . . .
“Because You Mean So Much”,
it said, above pine branches and a sprig of holly complete with red berries. He pictured it in his mind and smiled in the recalling.
Gilded around the edges. Swirling red flower stems and buds as a background for the message. He had memorized the front:
“I believe that God brings certain people into our lives for a reason.
Some days it’s to help us see something new and wonderful.
Sometimes it’s to encourage us and strengthen our faith.
And sometimes it’s to remind us that we are never truly alone….”
He nodded in affirmation. Mentally, he opened the card. The same evergreen pine and holly
above a verse:
“How natural it is that I should feel as I do about
you, for you have a very special place in my heart”, Philippians 1:7.”
The two tears which began forming in his ever-green eyes testified to the truth of that scriptural passage. How appropriate that the verse was centered on the left-hand page, for it had been the heart of his message to her. He had to pry his attention from it to the continuance of the main message found on the last page:
“Whatever purpose God had in bringing us together,
I’m just grateful that He did.
You’ve been a real source of understanding in my life,
and it means more to me than I can ever say
to have the gift of your friendship and caring.”
“Merry
Christmas”
He grinned unreservedly.
He had held his heart too close – or maybe not close enough. Missed some chances back then. It took months to recover his balance, but thanks to prayer, God had sent blessings, grace, and miracles.
He was wide awake now. All was calm and all was bright. Too calm and too bright? Moonlight traced a bright rectangle on the carpet as he became aware that her warmth and her steady breathing were absent. She wasn’t next to him in their big bed. Throwing back the comforter, he moved his legs over the edge, put his bare feet on the floor, and stood up intent on finding and joining her. He was almost through the bedroom door when he turned back. There it was, right where he kept it under the Bible, behind the socks. He grasped the red envelope which contained his first Christmas greeting to his beloved.
As he passed the arched doorway to the kitchen, the new stove caught his eye with its bright, clean, modern lines. The old one had been serviceable, but was badly worn. It had possessed none of the new digital gadgets. It was ordinary. “Kind of like me?” He mused. He missed the old thing. He was sentimental that way. He remembered all the times they had danced near that stove, especially while meals were being prepared upon it. It had been a place of comfort in the chill of winter. Amused, he remembered the big pots of chili being prepared for company – with large pans of cornbread in the oven. Ahhh, the smells! Ahhh, the dancing in the close embrace of his Mary!
Down the hall he turned the corner and there she was, silhouetted in front of the glass doors which opened onto the deck. Looking out upon the snow-covered cornfields, she was radiant even in her white flannel pajamas – the ones with the little candy canes among the faces of angelic-looking sleeping children. Moonlit brightly! The filmy, sheer blue gown she wore over her ‘jams’ added to her mystery. Heartwrenchingly lovely! His Morning Star! Gosh, she was something truly special!
“I knew you would come, I felt it,” she said quietly. Her pretty brown eyes seemed moist. Had she been crying? “Our moon is perfectly full tonight of all nights!”
“Mary.” He kept his voice soft and low. “Wow, it sure is big! I think that’s the brightest, most beautiful one I’ve ever seen, and so unusually far to the northeast!” Perhaps he was annoyingly analytical at times. “Just for us, do you think?” He put his arms around her from behind.
“Yes, I’m sure this one is just for us”, she whispered . . . . . .
“Dave? I was just thinking of my lovely, perfect, Christmas card that you like to read to me every year on Christmas Eve. Would you read it to me later, in bed? I really need that tonight. Our closeness hasn’t been as close as I would like.”
“My love, I have it right here.”
“Wow,” she exclaimed in wonder and delight as he gently turned her to face him. Then he kissed her. It lasted. They paused, and, inspired, he began whispering the words to ‘Silent Night’. She joined him then, and they were softly singing together, for only with him could she truly sing her heart’s song…..And he, his. Only with her.
They sang, began swaying, then began dancing. In close embrace. Rejoicing together by the light of the Christmas full moon.
Angels danced unseen, and sang as well. Dave and Mary could feel them near.
“Silent night, holy, holy, holy, night. All is calm, all is bright.”
Right on cue, the grandfather clock began “chiming twelve” as if to say, “Re-joice, re-joice, for-Christ-the-Lord-is-born-this-day!”
He counted the twelve syllables aloud just to make sure, for he was compulsive that way. She giggled happily. Ring-ringing! Exactly twelve chimes – twelve wondrous sounds with meaning reverberating through eternity.
They looked into each others’ eyes and said in unexpected unison, as was their habit and their gift, “Happy Birthday Jesus” . . . . . . . . . . . . Eyes wide – always amazed when this happened.
Then : “I Love You, always remember that!” In unexpected unison, they had done it again!
Green twinkles and brown sparkles swirled as their eyes shone . . .
Their images resolved into One.
Under the brilliant full moon,
All Heaven and Earth
celebrated, rejoicing with them.
The angels kept dancing,
And so did they.
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Peace, Love, and Hope
Beyond your understanding,
Be yours tonight.
Merry Christmas, 12-24-2012 (updated-2015)
Footnote:
I have been watching the night sky, as is my habit,
and I have been anticipating that there might be a real
full moon . . .
And sure enough! A rare Christmas full moon!
Tonight – Christmas eve – the night of December 24
and morning of December 25, 2015!
I’m delighted, for part of my story is fulfilled,
even though I wrote this years ago!
I ‘looked up’ the details and found that
this phenomenon hasn’t happened for 34 years,
and won’t occur again for another 19 years.
I thank God for His continuous wonders!
(One of which is you, dear reader! You are a gift from God!)
Thank You!
Your gloryteller, Len
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© Copyright by Lenn Snider 12-24-2012
25 Mar 2016 1 Comment
It is Good Friday. This is the day of remembrance of how my Lord Jesus suffered the agony of torture and death.
Like the criminal on His right, I believe a part of me hung there and died with Him that day – the dark part that needed to be put to death – in order that I might be saved into eternal life with Him. Like He spoke to that wretched, miserable, condemned man, He still speaks to me today through His Word, with labored breath, gasping one painful word at a time as if we are face to face –
“I. Forgive. You.” “You. Shall. Be. With. Me . . .”
When I stood accused of selfish sins and crimes that I knew I was guilty of, He effectively said to me as He stood there weak, trembling, and covered with blood:
“Don’t worry, you’re “good”. Get behind Me. I love you too much to let this happen to you. I’ve got this.”
His torture and death were my fault in a sense. (My brothers and sisters argue that it is theirs, which may be true, but I maintain I am the guiltiest) He went ahead and saved me anyway. He forgave me that fault – “It’s forgotten,” He said, graciously.
What kind of Love? . . . I can scarcely fathom.
So, I don’t know about the “Good” part of Good Friday.
It is also called Black Friday and Holy Friday, either of which I can relate to, especially “Holy Friday”, but hardly Good Friday, except that good resulted from it.
You can’t have a resurrection without a death, especially THE Resurrection following THE Death,
both of which rocked the foundations of the world.
If anything should be called “Good”, it is Resurrection Day – “Good Sunday” if you will – the joyous day that I lived through Him, and had Life because of Him, and was shown the true meaning of Love.
I once again turn to Stuart Townend, Keith and Kristyn Getty to express with music and images what cannot be expressed with words alone. I pray that every heart that hears and sees this will be broken, transformed, and renewed at the foot of that one horrible, and glorious, cross………..
Thank you victoryinjesus123 for uploading this beautiful video.
Oh, and one more thing – the power of the cross is only the beginning.
The power of His victory over death lies at the doorstep beneath the joyously-open doorway of His empty tomb!
THANK YOU, JESUS!
That hardly seems enough to say,
Yet it is heartfelt.
Father, help me LIVE those three words.
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23 Dec 2015 Leave a comment
He writes poems.
He writes fantasy fiction stories.
But can he write a “romantic” Christmas story?
We shall see . . .
To my own
Morning Star:
All is calm, all is bright. “Just for us”.
Her First Christmas Card
Between. That’s where he was. Dave was between sleep and consciousness. Between clarity and the fog brought about by unbidden change. Between the deep mystery of Christmas Eve and the lambent hope he always found on Christmas Day.
He was warm and relaxed under Mary’s favorite comforter. Although teetering on the rim of the slope leading back down into the pool of sleep, he began to remember. Years of Christmas memories. Welcome, warm ones. She was in them all from the beginning.
He remembered the greeting card he had bought her before their first Christmas together. Undelivered that first Christmas, he had left it in his sock drawer under his mother’s Bible. It had languished there, regretfully, because of circumstances better left buried. Complicated days, those had been. He had needed to address some personal problems. He had been a fool. Yet, in the months of the following new year, he and Mary had worked their way through those problems with love, respect, and with indispensable Divine help. He gave her the card the next Christmas, when it could be sincerely and wholeheartedly given.
In spite of all their years of experience in the Church, even now, the responsibilities and demands of the season had once more come between them; kept them too much apart yet again; highlighted their differences; hampered communication; brought frustrations, and then prevented resolution of those frustrations. When he tried to picture them together in unity, in oneness, the image of “One Being” kept sliding apart into two images, like that of binoculars which refused to stay in focus. How he longed to have everything right and perfect between them.
So it was only right tonight that he remember that first Christmas card, for reading it together had become one of the centerpieces of their unity during many joyous Christmases . . .
“Because You Mean So Much”,
it said, above pine branches and a sprig of holly complete with red berries. He pictured it in his mind and smiled in the recalling.
Gilded around the edges. Swirling red flower stems and buds as a background for the message. He had memorized the front:
“I believe that God brings certain people into our lives for a reason.
Some days it’s to help us see something new and wonderful.
Sometimes it’s to encourage us and strengthen our faith.
And sometimes it’s to remind us that we are never truly alone….”
He nodded in affirmation. Mentally, he opened the card. The same evergreen pine and holly
above a verse:
“How natural it is that I should feel as I do about
you, for you have a very special place in my heart”, Philippians 1:7.”
The two tears which began forming in his ever-green eyes testified to the truth of that scriptural passage. How appropriate that the verse was centered on the left-hand page, for it had been the heart of his message to her. He had to pry his attention from it to the continuance of the main message found on the last page:
“Whatever purpose God had in bringing us together,
I’m just grateful that He did.
You’ve been a real source of understanding in my life,
and it means more to me than I can ever say
to have the gift of your friendship and caring.”
“Merry
Christmas”
He grinned unreservedly.
He had held his heart too close – or maybe not close enough. Missed some chances back then. It took months to recover his balance, but thanks to prayer, God had sent blessings, grace, and miracles.
He was wide awake now. All was calm and all was bright. Too calm and too bright? Moonlight traced a bright rectangle on the carpet as he became aware that her warmth and her steady breathing were absent. She wasn’t next to him in their big bed. Throwing back the comforter, he moved his legs over the edge, put his bare feet on the floor, and stood up intent on finding and joining her. He was almost through the bedroom door when he turned back. There it was, right where he kept it under the Bible, behind the socks. He grasped the red envelope which contained his first Christmas greeting to his beloved.
As he passed the arched doorway to the kitchen, the new stove caught his eye with its bright, clean, modern lines. The old one had been serviceable, but was badly worn. It had possessed none of the new digital gadgets. It was ordinary. “Kind of like me?” He mused. He missed the old thing. He was sentimental that way. He remembered all the times they had danced near that stove, especially while meals were being prepared upon it. It had been a place of comfort in the chill of winter. Amused, he remembered the big pots of chili being prepared for company – with large pans of cornbread in the oven. Ahhh, the smells! Ahhh, the dancing in the close embrace of his Mary!
Down the hall he turned the corner and there she was, silhouetted in front of the glass doors which opened onto the deck. Looking out upon the snow-covered cornfields, she was radiant even in her white flannel pajamas – the ones with the little candy canes among the faces of angelic-looking sleeping children. Moonlit brightly! The filmy, sheer blue gown she wore over her ‘jams’ added to her mystery. Heartwrenchingly lovely! His Morning Star! Gosh, she was something truly special!
“I knew you would come, I felt it,” she said quietly. Her pretty brown eyes seemed moist. Had she been crying? “Our moon is perfectly full tonight of all nights!”
“Mary.” He kept his voice soft and low. “Wow, it sure is big! I think that’s the brightest, most beautiful one I’ve ever seen, and so unusually far to the northeast!” Perhaps he was annoyingly analytical at times. “Just for us, do you think?” He put his arms around her from behind.
“Yes, I’m sure this one is just for us”, she whispered . . . . . .
“Dave? I was just thinking of my lovely, perfect, Christmas card that you like to read to me every year on Christmas Eve. Would you read it to me later, in bed? I really need that tonight. Our closeness hasn’t been as close as I would like.”
“My love, I have it right here.”
“Wow,” she exclaimed in wonder and delight as he gently turned her to face him. Then he kissed her. It lasted. They paused, and, inspired, he began whispering the words to ‘Silent Night’. She joined him then, and they were softly singing together, for only with him could she truly sing her heart’s song…..And he, his. Only with her.
They sang, began swaying, then began dancing. In close embrace. Rejoicing together by the light of the Christmas full moon.
Angels danced unseen, and sang as well. Dave and Mary could feel them near.
“Silent night, holy, holy, holy, night. All is calm, all is bright.”
Right on cue, the grandfather clock began “chiming twelve” as if to say, “Re-joice, re-joice, for-Christ-the-Lord-is-born-this-day!”
He counted the twelve syllables aloud just to make sure, for he was compulsive that way. She giggled happily. Ring-ringing! Exactly twelve chimes – twelve wondrous sounds with meaning reverberating through eternity.
They looked into each others’ eyes and said in unexpected unison, as was their habit and their gift, “Happy Birthday Jesus” . . . . . . . . . . . . Eyes wide – always amazed when this happened.
Then : “I Love You, always remember that!” In unexpected unison, they had done it again!
Green twinkles and brown sparkles swirled as their eyes shone . . .
Their images resolved into One.
Under the brilliant full moon,
All Heaven and Earth
celebrated, rejoicing with them.
The angels kept dancing,
And so did they.
***
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Peace, Love, and Hope
Beyond your understanding,
Be yours tonight.
Merry Christmas, 12-24-2012 (-2015)
Footnote:
I have been watching the night sky, as is my habit,
and I have been anticipating that there might be a real
full moon . . .
And sure enough! A rare Christmas full moon!
Tonight – Christmas eve – the night of December 24
and morning of December 25!
I’m delighted, for part of my story is fulfilled,
even though I wrote this years ago!
I ‘looked up’ the details and found that
this phenomenon hasn’t happened for 34 years,
and won’t occur again for another 19 years.
I thank God for His continuous wonders!
(One of which is you, dear reader! You are a gift from God!)
Thank You!
Your gloryteller, Len
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© Copyright by Lenn Snider 12-24-2012
21 Dec 2015 2 Comments
We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss,
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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04 Oct 2015 2 Comments
To know one’s identity is highly important.
Just ask those with amnesia.
Just ask anyone who doesn’t know, or is uncertain,
or who is “trying to find himself, or herself”.
This piece of knowledge is extremely valuable;
vital, even.
This writer knows the answer.
Who am I?
I AM my Father’s child!
A simple statement.
Make it as complex as you like, for it is indeed huge!
My cousin Ann, of whose attributes I can’t say enough,
quite astutely says that she is:
“Born of one father,
Born again of another.”
A remarkable statement of identity!
I’m pretty certain she means “Born first on earth
of her father, my uncle, and born again of
Father God through Jesus Christ.”
Ann is not only clever, but she is full of truth!
However,
When I thought of myself in light of her statement,
I realized that “I” – “my Father’s child”,
was first born to Him in Heaven,
in a sense,
in the high, holy sense,
the only sense that matters to “me”.
Conceived by Him and born to Him.
Then borne by Him to my bodily habitation on earth.
Borne to my second father,
born unaware of the First.
When finally, finally, I became aware of my First Father,
my initial, original, foremost, paramount, primary, principal Father,
Whose merciful forgiveness of,
and passionate love for me,
transcends my meager understanding,
it was then that I “stepped into the seeming void of faith”
and found the truth of my identity in Him.
It was then that I was born again in Christ Jesus with help from
His Holy spirit.
Reborn!
In Christ, who is in the Father, who are in me!
Here on earth in a body,
but not being a body, or a brain,
but only having one,
while being something – someone – entirely new and different.
My being and my life are in my Father!
Thank You, Father, for my life and my identity (in You).
Indeed,
I AM my Father’s child!
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03 Apr 2015 4 Comments
in Christ, Christian Fiction, Christian Music, Easter, Forgiveness, God's Glory, Good News, Jesus Christ, Redemption, Resurrection, Resurrection Sunday, Salvation, Worship Music Tags: Christ, Easter, God, Good Friday, Good Sunday, Jesus, Kristyn Getty, Resurrection Sunday, the cross, The Empty Tomb, The Power of the Cross
It is Good Friday. This is the day of remembrance of how my Lord Jesus suffered the agony of torture and death. A part of me died with Him that day – the part that needed to.
When I stood accused of selfish sins and crimes that I knew I was guilty of, He effectively said to me as He stood there weak, trembling, and covered with blood: “Don’t worry, you’re good. Get behind Me. I love you too much to let this happen to you. I’ve got this.”
His torture and death were my fault. (my brothers and sisters argue that it is theirs, but I am the guiltiest) But He forgave me that fault and went ahead and saved me anyway. “It’s forgotten,” He said, graciously.
So, I don’t know about the “Good” part of Good Friday. It is also called Black Friday and Holy Friday, either of which I can relate to, especially “Holy Friday”, but hardly Good Friday, except that good resulted from it. You can’t have a resurrection without a death, especially THE Resurrection following THE Death that rocked the foundations of the world.
If anything should be called “Good”, it is Resurrection Day – “Good Sunday”, the joyous day that I lived through Him, and had Life because of Him, and was shown the true meaning of Love.
I once again turn to Stuart Townend, Keith and Kristyn Getty to express with music and images what cannot be expressed with words alone. I pray that every heart that hears and sees this will be broken, transformed, and renewed at the foot of that one horrible, and glorious, cross………..
Thank you victoryinjesus123 for uploading this beautiful video.
Oh, and one more thing – the power of the cross is only the beginning. The power of His victory over death lies at the doorstep beneath the joyously-open doorway of His empty tomb! THANK YOU, JESUS!
06 Dec 2014 6 Comments
in Christ, Christian Poetry, Christian Writing, Christmas, Forgiveness, God's Gifts, Good News, Gospel, Salvation Tags: christianity, Christmas, Jesus, Subjects and objects in a sentence, The true meaning of Christmas
We must remember this,
Amidst the noise and fuss,
JESUS is the subject of Christmas,
And the object of Christmas is US.
*LS*
Merry Christmas from Gloryteller.com!
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28 Feb 2014 6 Comments
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And we all,
who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory,
are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory,
which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
2 Corinthians 3:18
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God,
through His Word,
through His physical presence on earth,
through His presence in us,
describes something which,
through words alone,
is by its nature,
basically indescribable;
His glory.
Yet I persist in trying to describe it.
For His own reasons, He asked me to.
I don’t fully understand that, but I willingly comply.
He unveiled my face.
How can I describe the glory of God,
Even to willing believers,
Unbelievers notwithstanding?
Understanding of it can only bloom out of personal knowledge.
I’m a scribe for the impossibly indescribable.
How can I explain the joy which comes out of knowing Him,
The love,
Compassion,
Forgiveness,
Mercy,
Grace,
Spirit?
. . . I can’t.
I can only attempt to tell my perception of them.
How they affect me.
How they feel inside the heart of my spirit.
I can’t express the wonder of those concepts
without His intervention in the heart and mind of the reader.
Even though transformed,
Even though called and qualified,
I can’t on my own merit, describe the indescribable.
Glorytelling would be a glaring futility without the guiding companionship of His Spirit.
Where does this come from,
This contemplation of the Divine,
This glorytelling,
This scribing of the indescribable?
Where does your own high calling come from?
It comes from the lovingkindness of the Lord,
From His wise will,
From the heart of His Holy Spirit,
And the image He pours us into, shines with ever-increasing glory,
And THAT, once again, is exquisitely indescribable.
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