There are things you cannot understand, and you must learn to live with this. Not only must you learn to live with this, you must learn to enjoy this.

The real voice is stiller and smaller and seems to know, without confusion, the difference between right and wrong and the subtle delineation between the beautiful and profane. It's not an agitated voice, but ever patient as though it approves a million false starts. The voice I am talking about is a deep water of calming wisdom.

Many of our attempts to understand Christian faith have only cheapened it. I can no more understand the totality of God than the pancake I made for breakfast understands the complexity of me. The little we do understand, that grain of sand our minds are capable of grasping, those ideas such as God is good, God feels, God loves, God knows all, are enough to keep our hearts dwelling on His majesty and otherness forever.

What I’m saying is I think life is staggering and we’re just used to it. We all are like spoiled children no longer impressed with the gifts we’re given—it’s just another sunset, just another rainstorm moving in over the mountain, just another child being born, just another funeral.

There's a genius part of you that wants to create. That part of you wants to talk to God. Get out of the way.

Sunday morning church service is not an enormous priority; spending time with other believers is.

Book of Ecclesiastes, God is saying... Write a good story, take somebody with you and let me help