The Way to God - Jesus. The Way to Jesus - the Cross.

On a snowy Christmas Eve in 1965, Max and his sister Julia set out with sleds, ready for adventure. But a sudden blizzard swallows the world in white, leaving them lost and afraid - until a mysterious old man rescues them and leads them to a glowing church in the storm.   Inside, they hear wondrous stories of Jesus, angels, battles in heaven, and the power of God’s messengers.  This storybook, video and paperback, is meant to encourage children (and the child in all of us) that even in the darkest storm, God’s hand is near.  Story by DL Kennedy. Illustrations by ChatGPT.  The print storybook is available at Amazon. The YT video and Amazon link are below.   https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FQ6RDP86   # Jesus #ChristmasStory #Childrens Story #Faith #Christian Stories #Angels #Illustrated Storybook   

The room frightened Jacob. It was at the end of a long corridor. There were countless entrances along the stretch of dark hallway, but once the room was entered, there was only one way out. Inside, there was no visible doorknob, handle, or bolt. Lucian had to let him out again. Jacob always suspected there was a secret exit in the floor, but he feared what might happen if it were ever opened. He envisioned a long descent into darkness if that were the case. Lucian, the casino’s manager, sat behind a large polished desk. But there was also a stranger standing in the corner, and judging by Lucian’s hostile glances in his direction, he didn’t appear to be welcome. Jacob wondered how the man had come to be here. Did he owe the casino too? “Sit down, Jacob.” It was a command, not an invitation. Jacob obeyed quickly. He would never dare defiance. He had tried that once and had been carried out on a stretcher as a result. “You know our deal. Today is your last day to pay back what you owe me ...

The painting had changed again during the night. The self-portrait was nearly erased, only a faint outline remained, barely visible through the stains and smudges. A new image was gradually forming where the original had been - a grotesque caricature of the artist. Yotsero didn’t turn at the sound of knocking. He already knew who stood outside. “Come in.” His guest entered the studio. Still, the artist did not move from his spot. He merely raised a hand and motioned for Giulio to join him at the canvas. Both men stared at the image, each lost in thought. “You said it keeps changing day by day?” “Yes. It’s happened countless times now.” His guest looked incredulous. “Are you sleep-painting, my friend?” Yotsero might have taken offense at the suggestion, but he did not. He simply shook his head. The noise of his beard rubbing against the rough fabric of his shirt made a faint scratching sound, loud in the silence. Giulio knew the room was always under observation and th...