One of the great illusions of our time is that hurrying will buy us more time.

You can only love and be loved to the extent that you know and are known by somebody.

There is such a love, a love that creates value in what is loved. There is a love that turns rag dolls into priceless treasures. There is a love that fastens itself onto ragged little creatures, for reasons that no one could ever quite figure out, and makes them precious and valued beyond calculation. This is love beyond reason. This is the love of God.

When I repent, here is where it starts. I try to name my sin as honestly and as specifically as possible. Here is what repenting is not. It is not excusing my sin, minimizing my sin, it's not rationalizing my sin ... Repentance is getting painfully honest with God.

Our beliefs are not just estimates of probabilities. They are also the instruments that guide our actions.

If we do not become changed from the inside-out - if we don't morph - we will be tempted to find external methods to satisfy our need to feel that we're different from those outside the faith. If we cannot be transformed, we will settle for being informed or conformed.

The miracle of Sunday is that a dead man lives. The miracle of Saturday is that the eternal Son of God lies dead.