It might not be about perfection. Rather, it may be that that which is imperfect is that which has the most character.

If I can draw the slightest smile across a single face obliterated by pain, in that act I will have begun to understand the power of an ordinary human being to perform the seemingly impossible in the life of another human being. And how can that experience do anything less than drive me to try and make the world smile.

There’s something vulnerable about the human condition, where people can transmute into something so astonishingly altered that whatever is left is wholly unrecognizable.

I am human. Therefore, I will fail you. God is not and will not.

There is this utterly fascinating rumor of a glorious sort of love. And even though we are crafted for it, the best that we can do is to catch the slightest hem of it before it slips away yet again. For we have yet to learn that what we seek is not the love of another person, but the love of God coursing through another person.

My first mistake is to humanize God. My second mistake is to hold those wretched human characteristics up against all of the majestic things that I sense God should be. The blatant discrepancy which is certain to ensue then allows me to not only justify my rejection of Him, it grants me unbridled permission to discount His existence altogether. And that third and final mistake is without a doubt the most costly of all.

I respect your humanity far too much to play on your fears in order to play out my agendas.

Yet, there is a sense of some deep sort that runs entirely contrary to human nature; that in putting ourselves first, we must by necessity put others first.

The person next to you is more similar to the person within you than you know.