Far too often, the best thing I can have in my hand when someone makes a promise is a really big broom so that I can sweep up the broken pieces.

The real promise in too many promises is a promise that I’m going to be disappointed.

At the point that our promises have become tactics to get what we want verses commitments that we intend to keep, the only thing that we are promising is the delivery of a broken promise.

My fear of standing alone often pressures me to stand with a rather unsavory group that embraces a rather unsettling belief system which leaves me wondering why I left the promises of God for the company of people.

Most promises were broken before they were made.

I've diluted my idea of commitment with my desire for comfort. And once I've done that kind of diluting, the only commitment that I'm left with is a commitment to myself.

Maybe I've got to be sufficiently broken by life's many broken promises to be sufficiently compelled to seek out God's unbreakable promises.