Jesus.
Jesus told the world if he had to pick a body all over again that he would pick himself! He believes he is (God's gift to this earth) the best looking, the smartest, pure perfection!
Hahaha LOL Jajaj.
And I Quote! "THAT'S WHY I PUT MYSELF NAKED ON THE CROSS IN CHURCHES TO SEE MY BODY !!!!"
GROSSEST, SCAREST, UGLIST, SLOPPY, DISRESPECTFUL, DISGUSTING, IT.
If he actually ate the bullshit that came out of his mouth, He wouldn't have made up satan! He wouldn't Rape us, He wouldn't embody us! He wouldn't try to be us! USING OUF VOICES! USING OUR SPIRIT!
Dear explain bear, so please don’t say anything rude please, but what do you think about Christianity. I do not mean to ask questions
An old man goes to church.
One Sunday morning, an old cowboy entered a church just before services were to begin. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean, he wore jeans, a denim shirt, and boots that were very worn and ragged. In his hand, he carried a worn-out old hat and an equally worn-out Bible.
The church he entered was in a very upscale and exclusive part of the city. It was the largest and most beautiful church the old cowboy had ever seen. The people of the congregation were all dressed in expensive clothes and accessories.
As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all appalled at his appearance and did not attempt to hide it.
As the old cowboy was leaving the church, the preacher approached him and asked the cowboy to do him a favor. "Before you come back in here again, have a talk with God and ask him what he thinks would be appropriate attire for worship."
The old cowboy assured the preacher he would.
The next Sunday, he showed back up for the services wearing the same ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat. Once again, he was completely shunned and ignored. The preacher approached the man and said, "I thought I asked you to speak to God before you came back to our church."
"I did," replied the old cowboy.
"If you spoke to God, what did he tell you the proper attire should be for worshiping in here?" asked the preacher.
"Well, sir, God told me that He didn't have a clue what I should wear. He said He'd never been in this church."
Your grandmother died because she fell on the highest floor of the hotel. Your grandfather died because he got shot while saving your mother. If he didn't save your mother, you wouldn't be here.
You grew up in a world full of viruses. You wanted the virus to be gone. There's only one way, but you have to know it. I can't tell it for you.
Your mother got Covid-19. You prayed and prayed all night, hoping that she would be okay. The next day, the doctors went to your house without your mother. You asked, "Where is my mother?!" The doctors said, "Your mother is gone, so we came here to tell you." The doctors left. Another hour, you were thinking while crying, "Why was my prayer not working? Lord, why'd you let me down?"
You searched on Google "How to bring back the dead." The Google workers declined it. Your father left you because he loved another girl. Your brothers are still with you, but what if they get the virus? Who will be with you?
Don't forget Jesus is still there for you. Don't give up, keep going, and you will succeed soon. You will find your own family and beat the coronavirus.
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
