The lips know only shallow tunes

One of the great things silence does, it gives us a new concept of God.

Beware, O earth, the prophet who claims to know the time but never wears a watch.

Becoming a great preacher, like becoming a great artist, requires a life commitment.

Love is substance; Lust, illusion. Only in the surge of passion do the two mingle in confusion.

Death is a confirmation of the believer's creed. For the skeptic it is discovery, immense and late.

The world is poor because her fortune is buried in the sky and all her treasure maps are of the earth.

It is not such a fiercesome thing to lead once you see your leadership as part of God's overall plan for His world.

Imagination must constantly run on a new track or it becomes lifeless. A living imagination is essential to prayer.

Those who fervently love God are intoxicated by His warmth and live out their addiction like moths drawn to a flame.

With love that knew no fear, the Singer caught his torment, wrapped it all in song and gave it back to him as peace.

Tripping is embarrassing, but I have learned that where we stumble is the place we dig for gold—where we trip is where the treasure lies.

A passion to obey Christ is born out of our relationship with him. The more we love him, the more we want him to be a part of our affairs.

Define your times. Treasure your calling. Pray without ceasing. The terrors of the age are less than the grandeur of the Christ within you.

With what dread and apprehension we entrust important jobs into the hands of others. Imagine the love of a needless God who is willing to want our work.

After eating the world's bread, we wake each morning to remember: We are still hungry. Seek a better loaf. Eat, and never die. Taste, savor, and be filled forever.

We must look to Mary's example to know how to deal with the glorious impossibilities of God. Look how she turned the world upside down by making one simple statement.

Humanity is fickle. They may dress for a morning coronation and never feel the need to change clothes for an execution in the afternoon. So Triumphal Sundays and Good Fridays always fit comfortably into the same April week.

Life found itself alive and somehow knew its opposite was death. We are ever being born, or dying, and the thrill of choosing is ours. Only once, must we be born without our own consent. Only once, must we die without our own permission

"And now you have joy?" "I do indeed." "And how did you get it?" "I chose it, admitted it into my life, then I celebrated its arrival in my heart. I made my celebration so loud and boisterous, I prohibited all gloom from attending the celebration".

We humans are a hungry lot. We are driven by a craving to know who we are. Yet who we are is embedded in the heart of a holy God. Unless we seek for ourselves in the epicenter of God's grace, we will be forever condemned to walk the arid edges of self-understanding.

Our problem is this: we usually discover him within some denominational or Christian ghetto. We meet him in a province and, having caught some little view, we paint him in smaller strokes. The Lion of Judah is reduced to something kittenish because our understanding cannot, at first, write larger definitions.

Readers, on the other hand, have at least 7.5 books going all the time. Actually, the number of books a reader takes on is usually directly related to the number of bathrooms he has in his home and office. I am working on a survey that will show that, over a lifetime, readers are in bathrooms seven years and three months longer than nonreaders.

Share This Page