All rise for the mission of mercy that is the Church of Latter-Day Tebow.

Close your wearied eyes and summon His image. No idols; conjure the true appearance of our patron saint. There is no sin within His mind. His soul is pure, washed clean by the cascading waters of those Rocky Mountains. O ye of little faith, your soul as frosty as the tips of His hair, I have seen the Truth, the Way, and the mellifluent Left-Handed Light. Arms raised for Tebow. Praise. Worship.

I too doubted His magnificence. I too sat alone, wretched, despicable, odorous, lying drearily in my den of resentment. I would hear nothing of this Miracle Maker, this brilliantly shining Thrower of the Faith. But He has thrown to me and I have received His Word, His Love, from far downfield, deep in the recesses of my Hell.

Rescind your Hell and kneel with Tebow. Look downfield, look up into the stadium lights of God and receive Him. Receive Tebow.

There will be no more darkness. The Light has arrived and we have been saved! Our world will now witness a glory and triumph so monumental that human eyes may be unable to duly bear it. But we shall see. Tebow has made us see. Freedom. Peace of the heart.

Sound your voice for Tebow. Cry out, throw your lungs into this infant world, re-born as beautiful and sacred where once vile and profane. He is here, He is ours. Cry to Him. Tebow.

Look to Friday, when we shall speak again, on the eve of our Lord’s battle with the sinful pride of New England.


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