Quotes About Sacrifice

You wonder how long my love will last? Find your answer on a splintered cross, on a craggy hill. That's me you see up there, your maker, your God, nail-stabbed and bleeding. Covered in spit and sin-soaked. "That's your sin I'm feeling. That's your death I'm dying. That's your resurrection I'm living. That's how much I love you." In

Why did he endure all these feelings? Because he knew you would feel them too.

Allow the spit of the soldiers to symbolize the filth in our hearts. And then observe what Jesus does with our filth. He carries it to the cross.

He spent over three decades wading through the muck and mire of our sin yet still saw enough beauty in us to die for our mistakes.

How would you have responded if Jesus, knowing everything about you, knelt before you to wash your feet?

Right there in the middle of a world which isn't fair. He saw you betrayed by those you love. He saw you with a body which gets sick and a heart which grows weak . . . On the eve of the cross, Jesus made his decision. He would rather go to hell for you than go to heaven without you. And the

And at the supper, Jesus is not the served but the servant. It was Jesus who, during the supper, put on the garb of a servant and washed the disciples' feet (John 13:5).

We look at the Nike star player with the million-dollar smile and say, "I want to be like him." God points to His Son—who suffered the cross to save you—and says, "I want you to be like Him.

The Lord's Supper is a gift to you. The Lord's Supper is a sacrament,4 not a sacrifice.5

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men" (NIV). Such words can cut, can't they? Put them to use. "Let the words of Christ, in all their richness, live in your hearts and make you wise. Use his words to teach and counsel each other" (Col. 3:16 NLT). Don't make a

Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you" (John 13:14–15).

Everything you say and everything you do should all be done for Jesus your Lord. —COLOSSIANS 3:17

No husband of mine will say, "I could have been a drummer, but I had to think about the wife and kids. You know how it is." Nobody supports me at the expense of his own adventure. Then I get bitter: no one supports me.

But the men—hungry, greedy, tired of planting in dry soil—had been forced to leave the village in order to send food-money home.

I would like to believe when I die that I have given myself away like a tree that sows seeds every spring and never counts the loss, because it is not loss, it is adding to future life. It is the tree's way of being. Strongly rooted perhaps, but spilling out its treasure on the wind.

The price of being oneself is so high and involves so much ruthlessness toward others (or what looks like ruthlessness in our duty-bound culture) that very few people can afford it. Most people swallow the unacceptable because it makes life so much easier. At what point does one feel that doing battle, however painful and rending, is necessary?

I had given up some youth for knowledge, but my gain was more valuable than the loss

In the flush of love's light we dare be brave And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.

The Black woman in the South who raises sons, grandsons and nephews had her heartstrings tied to a hanging noose. Any break from routine may herald for them unbearable news.

Although there was always generosity in the Negro neighborhood, it was indulged on pain of sacrifice. Whatever was given by Black people to other Blacks was most probably needed as desperately by the donor as by the receiver. A fact which made the giving or receiving a rich exchange.

If the pretties were expected to make the supreme sacrifice in order to 'belong,' what could the unattractive female do?

I missed you but I knew you were in the best place for you. I would have been a terrible mother. I had no patience. Maya, when you were about two years old, you asked me for something. I was busy talking, so you hit my hand, and I slapped you off the porch without thinking. It didn't mean I didn't love you; it just meant I wasn't ready to be a mother. I'm explaining to you, not apologizing. We would have all been sorry had I kept you.

Don't lose what you had to get something which just may not work.

Her explanation was that she would not sit beside a draft dodger who was a Negro as well. She added that the least he could do was fight for his country the way her son was fighting on Iwo Jima. The story said that the man pulled his body away from the window to show an armless sleeve. He said quietly and with great dignity, 'Then ask your son to look around for my arm, which I left over there.