The proof of spiritual maturity is not how pure you are but awareness of your impurity. That very awareness opens the door to grace.
Philip YanceyRead
We grow up hungry for love, and in ways so deep as to remain unexpressed we long for our Maker to love us.
Interpretation
This quote expresses the deep human desire for love and connection with our creator.
Philip Yancey's quote highlights the inherent longing within every individual for love, pointing to a profound relationship with our Maker. This desire often runs deep and remains unspoken, suggesting that our quest for love is not just a mere desire for human affection, but an innate yearning for the divine connection that nurtures our souls.
In practice
In a speech about love and relationships, one might use this quote to illustrate the depth of human emotional needs.
The proof of spiritual maturity is not how pure you are but awareness of your impurity. That very awareness opens the door to grace.
If my activism, however well-motivated, drives out love, then I have misunderstood Jesusβ gospel. I am stuck with law, not the gospel of grace.
In the stories of extravagant grace given to us by Jesus, there are no loopholes disqualifying us from God's love.
Parents learn the uses of power and its limits. They can insist on certain outward behavior but cannot change inner attitudes. They can require obedience but not goodness - and certainly not love.
Prayer is to the skeptic a delusion, a waste of time. To the believer it represents perhaps the most important use of time.
I once heard a theologian remark that in the Gospels people approached Jesus with a question 183 times whereas he replied with a direct answer only three times. Instead, he responded with a different question, a story, or some other indirection. Evidently Jesus wants us to work out answers on our own, using the principles that he taught and lived.
Time hates love, wants love poor,/but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.
There's nothing wrong with being gay, so to deny it is to make a judgment.
The language of my love does not belong to human language, my human body does not touch the flesh of my love.
We are fated to love one another; we hardly exist outside our love, we are just animals without it, with a birth and a death and constant fear between. Our love has lifted us up , out of the dreadfulness of merely living.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.
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