Quotes About Spirituality

I don't think God wants to be worshiped. I think the only pure worship of God is by loving one another, and I think all other forms of worship became a substitute for the love that we should show one another.

Why me, lord? Don't answer that!

The only thing that makes reality is death; then they hang it on a cross, kneel down and pray to it.

I have come to kno one thing without ay shadow of doubt: if anything in this universe reflects the fingerprint of God, it is the human heart

Emma once told me that some people spend their whole lives trying to outrun God, maybe get someplace He's never been. She shook her head and smiled, wondering why. Trouble is, she said, they spend a lifetime searching and running, and when they arrive, they find He's already been there.

We stood in silence, and yet I heard a familiar voice saying, Listen here, child, that's God's little girl, baggage and all, so don't go judging the cover. He doesn't care what she looks like. He'll take her and us any way he can get us. Just like the woman at the well. Best you switch lenses and start seeing her that way too.

if anything in this universe reflects the fingerprint of God, it is the human heart.

Augustine said it best: You stir man to take pleasure in praising You, because You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.

so, the water that would cleanse me was not water from my head—where I'd learned to rationalize my indifference. But water from my heart.

Saint Augustine said it best: You stir man to take pleasure in praising You, because You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.

I know I'm not alone and I don't walk alone. That I won't. When the thin whisper of a veil between what I can't see and what I can is pulled back and for one brief second I get a glimpse of what will be. Where the words 'might' and 'hope' intersect.

Music reaches people at a level that is beneath their DNA. Dad was right. Again. Music exposes what and who we worship.

And God? He's in these hills because we are. No matter how far you run, you can't shake Him. Maybe Davis and I know that best, but Emma knew it first, and Saint Augustine said it best: You stir man to take pleasure in praising You, because You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.

world cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt with the heart.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a host of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.

If God was down here drinking His coffee, then He was on his second cup, because He'd already Windexed the sky. Only the streaks remained.

Brothers and sisters, a demon's job is to kill you. To beat you to death. To rob you of anything that is not painful. This railing is where you give more than you take. Where you steal back. Where you kill what's killing you. Then, having chased and slain, you return"—Pastor John pointed to the pews and folding chairs—"bloody but unharmed, different but the same, changed but unchanged, moved but unmoved. A living battleground.

But good hymns? They live past the people who wrote them. Hymns never die.

Love has its own communication—one you can't prove in a courtroom, in a lab experiment, or on a doctor's chart. It's the language of the heart, and while it has never been transcribed, has no alphabet, and can't be heard or spoken by voice, it is used by every human on the planet. It is written on our souls, scripted by the finger of God, and we can hear, understand, and speak it with perfection long before we open our eyes for the first time.

You stir man to take pleasure in praising You, because You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.

Whose you are matters more to the soul than who you are or what you are.

Music is an art that expresses the inexpressible. It rises far above what words can mean or the intelligence define. Its domain is the imponderable and impalpable land of the unconscious.

As the dead prey upon us,they are the dead in ourselves,awake, my sleeping ones, I cry out to you,disentangle the nets of being!

Everything begins in mysticism and ends in politics.