Deadline: Excerpts
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Randy Alcorn
Finney was intoxicated not by mere feelings of joy, but by joy itself, a billion burning quasars of pure joy. All joy he had known on earth was like drinking from the contaminated lower waters, far from the source of the stream. Now he was drinking from the Source itself, the fountain-head of Joy.
This world was so bright and overwhelming he felt it would have blinded and ripped his earthly body to shreds. The joy of heaven was like a volcanic explosion, spectacular and thrilling, but never subsiding. Not like a once-in-a-lifetime eclipse seen for a moment then gone ...