Either god should have written a book to fit my brain, or he should have made my brain to fit his book.
Cancer is such a wake-up call to remind us how high the cosmic stakes really are and how short and brief and frail life really is.
Amazing, isn't it, that our prayers. . . can move the very heart of God who created the universe?
True, God hates Alzheimer's, spinal cord injury, mental illness, autism, and the rest (these conditions are all symptoms of the Fall). Yet he permits these things to accomplish something far more precious in our lives: patience, endurance, compassion for others who hurt, and refined faith and trust in God, to name a few.
God points to the peaceful attitude of suffering people to teach others about Himself.
Faint hearts are encouraged when they read about others who, despite amputation, spinal cord injury, or psychiatric disorders have a vibrant trust and confidence in God.
Take those road hazards- the potholes, ruts, detours, and all the rest- as evidence that you were on the right route. It's when you find yourself on that big, broad, easy road that you ought to worry.
He was the kind of guy that made a woman want to rip his shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along with her inhibitions.
What is remembered is not a deed in stone but a metaphor. Meta = above. Pheren = to carry. That which is carried above the literalness of life. A way of thinking that avoids the problems of gravity. The word won't let me down. The single word that can release me from all that unuttered weight.
People die all the time. It's just that you're not around.
Ultimately, the transcript of your prayers becomes the script of your life.