The anticipation of loss is much more frightening than the actual loss as anticipation leaves room for the imagination to create that which, in all likelihood, will never transpire.

What would behoove me to instantly declare God not to be God unless He followed my script in some tediously exacting manner? I must confess that I am less likely to believe that it’s a matter of some narcissistic demand that I freely pen my own script. Rather, I think it’s fear that I’m too inadequate to follow God’s.

What in the world would ever lead to me believe that life is a series of opportunities that are readily available to everyone else but me? What really leads me to believe such an atrocious lie is that I don’t believe in myself sufficiently to engage those opportunities in the first place.

To look beyond our horizons is to acknowledge that we’ve hemmed ourselves in by creating them in the first place.

I can attempt to stay on the fence. However, the problem is that the fence is a figment of my fear not a reality of my journey.

I have no interest in being safe. I do however, have every interest in being wise. The former is averse to going forward, while the latter is averse to anything but going forward.

I’m not all that certain that we can handle magnificence. And I wonder if that’s why we take great things and diminish them through our small stories and weak renderings.

I have no dream,” I repeatedly tell myself. But what I’m really telling myself is that I’m too afraid of the dream that I have to admit that I have it.