Quotes About Redemption

En este contexto, nos encontramos con la gracia de Dios en conexión con el evangelio, y esa verdad del evangelio se aprehende solo por fe. Y esta entrada en la redención está acompañada por una vida de fe, de andar diario con Dios, recibiendo la verdad de su Palabra, creyéndola y actuando en base a ella. Es así como mostramos nuestro amor por él.

Postmodern irony and cynicism's become an end in itself, a measure of hip sophistication and literary savvy. Few artists dare to try to talk about ways of working toward redeeming what's wrong, because they'll look sentimental and naive to all the weary ironists. Irony's gone from liberating to enslaving. There's some great essay somewhere that has a line about irony being the song of the prisoner who's come to love his cage.

one is that you attain the goal and realize the shocking realization that attaining the goal does not complete or redeem you, does not make everything for your life "OK " as you are, in the culture, educated to assume it will do this, the goal. And then you face this fact that what you had thought would have the meaning does not have the meaning when you get it, and you are impaled by shock.

The drunk and the maimed both are dragged forward out of the arena like a boneless Christ, one man under each arm, feet dragging, eyes on the aether.

Few artists dare to try to talk about ways of working toward redeeming what's wrong, because they'll look sentimental and naive to all the weary ironists.

One, one is that you attain the goal and realize the shocking realization that attaining the goal does not complete or redeem you, does not make everything for your life "OK " as you are, in the culture, educated to assume it will do this, the goal. And then you face this fact that what you had thought would have the meaning does not have the meaning when you get it, and you are impaled by shock.

Postmodern irony and cynicism has become an end in itself, a measure of hip sophistication and literary savvy. Few artists dare to try to talk about ways of working toward redeeming what's wrong, because they'll look sentimental and naive to all the weary ironists. Irony's gone from liberating to enslaving.

A lack of this complete submission to the will of God, and a failure to realize that our salvation can only be worked out by the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit forming the very life of Christ within the redeemed heart, has placed the Christian church today in the same apostasy that characterized the Jewish nation.

And thus we understand, how the Whole of our Redemption (according to the plain language of Scripture) is inwardly and outwardly solely the Work of the Light and Spirit of God, a Kingdom of God both within and without us, and to which we do not, cannot live, but so far as we are inspired, moved, and led, by the Spirit of God.

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

Give me my sin again.

A little water clears us of this deed.

Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.

If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.

I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire.

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.

Kneel not to me. The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, And deal with others better.

All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

my heart is wondrous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

I commend my soul into the hands of God, my Creator, hoping and assuredly believing, through the only merits of Jesus Christ, my Saviour, to be made partaker of life everlasting.

The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.

Pardon's the word to all.

What if this cursed hand were thicker than itself with brother's blood, is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens to wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy but to confront the visage of offense? And what's in prayer but this twofold force, to be forestalled ere we come to fall, or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up. My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer can serve my tern? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?