Joshua Chapter 1 verse 9 (9min 44sec)

Courage comes with faith in ascension.  Our vessels rot and become dandelions or maggots.  Our spirit is Jesus.  The expanse is Jesus’ spirit, it uses our vessels like hand puppets.  Hell is in the head because the truth is fractured by flaw into contrary industry, trends, and culture.  Jesus forgives us (to relieve his pain) when the expanse manifested “him” in human form with infinite knowledge.  Good is Tinder.  Jesus was tinder to the Jews, and that comfort addicted them to warmth inside cold nights.  The heat of the desert burns feet.  When there was one set of footprints in the sand, it was because Jesus carries us with brain function (like meat puppets).  The holy spirit fills us like an African well.  A dichotomy.  The barren desert flush with water in an accessible paradise.  When you drink from the well, that sensation of swallowing helps to realize our fallibility by drowning our thirst.  We must hold our breath, to drink.  Therefore, we must have courage to believe.  The soul of Jesus is the expansion of time, life, and purpose.
 
Bible interpretation ends here.  Now this is my sardonic speculation.
 
I think the point of scripture is to focus our belief through the filter of the word; to prune away flaw.  If we keep arriving to the same conclusions in leu of truth, have others be honest:  Is my interpretation original and interesting?  Yes or no?  As a young muse, I’m desperate to prove myself.  My jurisdiction is my family.  Let my fruit help my family find Jesus to be funny and interesting and perhaps even original.  As a Minnow King, I kneel with the responsibility of guiding fish, and open to the wisdom of my three owls.  Barb, Brian, and Dr. B, I hold my breath when I pray, to symbolize diving as a fish with lungs to cry ‘who?’  I only know the answer to ‘why.’  Now, I must know the answer to ‘who.’  Who betrayed you?  Yourself, for trusting poorly.  Is my personality a disease?  Can you trust a fish with lungs?  Well…if you don’t, eat me.  Put me out of my misery.  My trust nourishes the betrayed grown accustomed to convenience (of trusting poorly).