If I take this imagination of mine and multiply it a thousand times over, even then I have yet to touch even the barest hem of heaven.

At some point I hope to have grown sufficiently in both stature and wisdom to understand that I cannot deliver myself from myself, and that God alone can save me from me.

What makes me think that I can define reality when I can scarcely define myself.

It seems to me that our incessant attempts to define God is far more about our desire to humanize Him and far less about our desire to understand Him. And if I persist in my attempts to do the former I will never achieve the latter which leaves me with neither.

I must pray with great earnest that God grants me the ability to imagine Who He is, as I am barely able to imagine who I am.

Words can be honed to crafted perfection by the finest wordsmiths. Yet, if we trust solely in the expanse of them to explain this God of ours or articulate our experience of Him, we will have brutally destroyed the very things we are attempting to explain. And if I should do that, no words can describe how badly I wish I had no words.

If you can get others to believe that your random guesses are actual answers, they’ll never guess that you never understood the question in the first place.

We have fallen into a miserable naiveté where we engage life based solely on what our senses can ascertain.

Prayer is knowing that what I ask for is always far bigger than what I could ever articulate, but it is never too big for God to understand nor is it ever too vast for Him to deliver.