Our hearts are telling us the truth – there really is something missing! The.
We are afraid of losing what we have, whether it’s our life or our possessions and property. But this fear evaporates when we understand that our life stories and the history of the world were written by the same hand.”8.
No wonder when he steps into the heavens to accept the throne the cry goes up, “Worthy! Worthy! Worthy! Make him king!” This man is so worthy.
Our smaller stories are constructed along the plot lines of control and gratification. Once we begin to live by this false self, Satan and his minions sabotage the story to make sure we are exposed. Then he mocks us for our foolishness and hypocrisy for hiding behind such a facade in the first place. Other times, he simply leaves us to die in costume.
Todo hombre anhela que lo elogien y que encima de eso, le paguen bien.
And so, dear heart, it is time for your restoration. For there is One greater than your Enemy. One who has sought you out from the beginning of time. He has come to heal your broken heart and restore your feminine soul. Let us turn now to him.
In one of the greatest invitations ever offered to man, Christ stood up amid the crowds in Jerusalem and said, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever.
You are the son of a kind, strong, and engaged Father, a Father wise enough to guide you in the Way, generous enough to provide for your journey, offering to walk with you every step. This is perhaps the hardest thing for us to believe – really believe, down deep in our hearts, so that it changes us forever, changes the way we approach each day.
A veil removed, bringing freedom, transformation, glory. Do you see it? I am not making this up – though I have been accused of making the gospel better than it is. The charge is laughable. Could anyone be more generous than God? Could any of us come up with a story that beats the one God has come up with? All the stories that we tell borrow their power from the Great Story he is telling.
You are never a great man when you have more mind than heart. – BEAUCHENE.
Jesus, I give my hope to your true and certain return, and the renewal of all things.
The moment of perceiving something beautiful confers on the perceiver the gift of life.
I realize that many dear followers of Christ have been taught that God only speaks to his sons and daughters through the Bible. The irony of that theology is this: that’s not what the Bible teaches! The Scriptures are filled with stories of God speaking to his people – intimately, personally. Adam.
Given the way creation unfolds, how it builds to ever higher and higher works of art, can there be any doubt that Eve is the crown of creation?
God wants to live this life together with you, to share in your days and decisions, your desires and disappointments. He wants intimacy with you in the midst of the madness and the mundane, the meetings and the memos, the laundry and the lists, the carpools and conversations and projects and pain. He wants to pour his love into your heart and he longs to have you pour yours into his.
Reading the prophets, says Yancey, is like hearing a lovers’ quarrel through the apartment wall.
Listen to your own heart and the hearts of the women you know. What is it that a woman wants? What does she dream of?
Worship is what we give our hearts away to in return for a promise of Life.
When we taste something that we think is good, our longings cease to ache, for a minute, but later we find ourselves empty once more, needing to be filled again and again.
We talk about unplugging, but we’re enchanted – by the endless social media circus of love and hatred, the vapid, alarming, sensational, and unforgivable. We’re snagged by every new notification. And while we’ve always had our individual struggles and heartbreaks to deal with, now we have the tragedies of the entire world delivered to us hourly on our mobile devices. This is all very hard on the soul. Traumatizing, in fact.
Sorrow is not a stranger to any of us, though only a few have learned that is is not our enemy either.