I need hope in something a lot bigger than me, for if I’m as good as it gets then I’m in big trouble.

If I’m not willing to accept a God who does the impossible, I’m left with what’s possible. And that takes me no further than myself.

If I have faith, what I see as a wall in front of me is in reality a door that will soon be behind me.

The most difficult thing is not the belief in the infinite. No. The most difficult thing of all is to believe that the infinite would be so grand and gracious as to reside in the smallness of us. That is what requires the greatest faith.

Faith is not whittling God down to a size that I can comprehend. Rather, it’s whittling my need to control down to a size that God can intersect.

Just when our understanding of God finally appears to have fallen comfortably into our childlike formulas, God lets us know that He’s not two things; a child or a formula.

Could it be that it’s not a belief in God that’s absurd, but rather it’s our perpetually limited understanding of God that’s really the thing that’s absurd.

Should all the hoards of mankind assemble as one and bring the full force of their numbers against us, we must remember that one man standing alone with God remains an immovable majority.

Easter recognizes that I am living in a prison of my own making, and that God is in the demolition business.