Recovery help 

 Post-acute withdrawal syndrome (PAWS) 

refers to a set of symptoms that occur after the acute phase of withdrawal from drugs or alcohol. 

Unlike acute withdrawal symptoms, which typically last for a short period after stopping substance use, 

PAWS can persist for weeks, months, or even years. 

These symptoms can include 

mood swings, 

anxiety, 

depression, 

cognitive difficulties, 

and cravings, 

and they can fluctuate in intensity over time. 

PAWS can pose significant challenges for individuals in recovery, but with appropriate support and treatment, they can gradually diminish as the brain and body adjust to sobriety.

 While talking with one of the men in the UGM recovery program, I heard a woman loudly shouting threats and cries on the street. 

We meet on the second floor each week where I mentor him, and there is a large bay window where we can look out over the streets. 

I'm sure I've heard this same woman crying out before, but it's not an unusual thing, but this day the Holy Spirit began to rise up in compassion for this woman. 

I interrupted our discussion and suggested we pray for the woman. 

We decided to get up and see if we could identify her, but the shouts echo off the buildings so we surveyed the streets, lined with people awaiting a meal and couldn't see who was shouting. As I looked on the mass of hurting people my thoughts shifted from her to others. 

At last we looked on the other side and saw the woman who so loudly poured out her life's complaints. She was busy about her shopping basket which contained all her life's belongings. 

So now I began to pray but the "moment" of emotion had passed for me, but I prayed none the same. 

When I finished, it appeared that the Holy Spirit had fallen on the fella I was with and he poured out a heartfelt prayer for this forlorn woman.  

When he concluded, he just stood there and remarked how he had Holy Spirit goosebumps all over him! I too felt the Presence as he prayed. 

It was but a "moment," a seemingly small obedience to Christ's command that "men ought always to pray."

When I left I thought I might see her, but she had moved on; but one of the brothers in the program was standing outside between some people and I greeted him, chatted for a minute, and then I greeted a young woman, 22ish, on his left, a pathetic little thing, tall, very thin with scabs on her face, little beauty on the outside, but remnants of youthfulness in her voice. I looked her straight in the eyes and felt such a love for her, looking back, I missed an opportunity to pray for her. Why didn't I?

I was in a rush to beat traffic, so I turned to quickly greet another tall, handsome young man with a hard gaze, and also many scabs, and he put out his hand and looked me straight in the face. I simply said, 'God bless you brother.' To which he responded, "God bless you too." Somehow I felt like he really meant it, and I thanked him and walked through the crowd to my car.

 

 

 "My wife and I had the privilege to attend the After Valentine’s Day Luncheon at Anna Ogden Hall where ladies who are in the Union Gospel Mission Life Recovery Program live. 

I was honored to speak. I chose to reflect on the empty promises that this world promises in human love that only Jesus can ultimately fulfill. The human heart was meant to be loved first and foremost by God. 

I shared this poem that captures the reality of so many relationships. 

We Do Not Speak of Love 

By Harold Norse

‭‭we do not speak of love

 but all are pushed & pulled

 by it

 taking all forms & shapes

 twisted pounded burnt

 by it

 like the sculptor’s clay our faces

 punched & pinched

 made long or ripped apart 

 by it

 eyes pained or deep or lost

 lines cut in cheeks & forehead

 from it

 we do not speak of love

 our faces scream

 of it

 haunting bars &

 running wild in the streets

 for it

 we do not speak of love

 but spike warm veins pop pills

 burst brain with alcohol

 for it

 gods & demons wrestle for the heart

 of it

 I can’t survive the lack of it."

I then let the words of the prophet Ezekiel reveal God’s heart and purposes for each of us. 

God sees us in our discarded, abandoned and orphaned vulnerability. He comes to us and gives us the word of life. He washes us in blood and baptismal waters from all our sins. He becomes our protector and provider. He cleans us up and draws us into covenantal love and relationship. He anoints us and clothes us. Our lives then become beautified by His sanctifying work. Our lives become testaments to His glory, adorned by precious and beautiful things. In Christ we become Queens and Kings, living witnesses of His saving, restoring grace, love and mercy. 

Ezekiel‬ ‭16‬:‭4‬-‭13‬ 

“On the day you were born your umbilical cord was not cut, you weren’t bathed and cleaned up, you weren’t rubbed with salt, you weren’t wrapped in a baby blanket. 

No one cared for you. No one did one thing to care for you tenderly in these ways. You were thrown out into a vacant lot and left there, dirty and unwashed—a newborn nobody wanted. 

“And then I came by. I saw you all miserable and bloody. Yes, I said to you, lying there helpless and filthy, “Live! Grow up like a plant in the field!” 

And you did. You grew up. You grew tall and matured as a woman…But you were…vulnerable, fragile and exposed. 

“I came by again and saw you, saw that you were ready for love and a lover. I took care of you, dressed you and protected you. I promised you my love and entered the covenant of marriage with you. 

I, God, the Master, gave my word. You became mine. I gave you a good bath, washing off all that old blood, and anointed you with aromatic oils. I dressed you in a colorful gown and put leather sandals on your feet. 

I gave you linen blouses and a fashionable wardrobe of expensive clothing. I adorned you with jewelry: I placed bracelets on your wrists, fitted you out with a necklace, emerald rings, sapphire earrings, and a diamond crown. 

You were provided with everything precious and beautiful: with exquisite clothes and elegant food, garnished with honey and oil. 

You were absolutely stunning. You were a queen! You became world-famous, a legendary beauty brought to perfection by my adornments. Decree of God, the Master.“

Pastor Eric. 

 

"Ella Fitzgerald was not allowed to perform in Hollywood's most popular nightclub, The Mocambo, because of her race & body size.

 Marilyn Monroe, who was a big fan, called the owner and explained that if he booked Ella, she would be there every night, which guaranteed huge press coverage. 

He booked Ella and Marilyn was there, front table, every single night as promised. 

Ella said, "After that, I never had to play a small jazz club again. She was an unusual woman, a little ahead of her time, and she didn’t even know it.”

 "The heart may languish, and the eye may weep,

For those whom heaven has called from life and care;
Yet there's an earthly pang than these more deep,
Which sharpens sorrow, and which brings despair,

Which wrings the heart, and lays the bosom bare.
Yet 'tis not death, each living man must die,
Death culls the sweetest flow'r, the form most fair,
The one deep cloud which darkens every sky

Is changed affection's cold averted eye."

    

"He that still may see your cheeks,

Where all rareness still reposes; 

Is a fool if e'er he seeks

   Other lilies, other roses." 

 

One night I was scrolling through 

Facebook, and read a post about a 

disabled child being strapped in their 

seat……and forgotten for 3 hours. 

It's not like I don't see stories like this 

often enough, but this one brought 

back a clear memory of our Rachel. 

We had put her in a good school. 

We had liked all the teachers. 

They assured us we could drop in 

on them anytime, as was our custom. 

This was key for us. 

One day, we did just that. 

Rachel was in her 'grasshopper' which 

is a hard plastic therapy equipment. 

She looked very uncomfortable. 

We looked closer and she was 

whimpering quietly. A rare thing by this age, because we had learned how to 

meet her needs before the cry. 

Her Dad asked how long she had been in this chair. Not one teacher knew! 

There were red spots on her legs and places rubbed raw from being there 

far too long. This baby girl had enough 

pain in her life, so we were impatient with those we had entrusted to make sure she didn’t receive more pain. 

Her Daddy picked her up, 

and we loved on her a minute. 

We packed up all of her things and left, 

telling them we would be back, if 

they were able to get better teachers. 

She never went back. 

But that memory came to me in a 

rush as I read the other story. 

I began to cry, thinking of the times 

Rachel could not communicate. 

How often was something missed? 

People cannot understand the issues 

you encounter with special needs children. 

Most don’t particularly care. 

We can hardly take care of our own issues. 

I understood that. 

We had some great teachers, 

some not so good and a few bad ones. 

Often, the experts are rigid and intimidating, not in love with the outcasts of society and cultures geared to just the well children. 

We had to become her advocate in everything. I just cried thinking of what 

she might have had to endure, 

that I didn't know.Then I wept for all the ones who come our way so broken. 

These times are called grief attacks. 

Grief attacks are those times you think your grief is safe inside, 

but there it will be, out in front of God 

and everybody in a benign moment. 

I remember standing in the garden 

statues of a big store. 

There was a statue of Jesus with a boy 

on one side and a girl on the other. 

All I saw was my children in heaven. 

I burst into tears. 

People probably wondered why I was so passionate about garden statues. 

But I was transported to heaven right 

then and there. 

It was a grief attack. 

Don't let these scare you. 

They will come and go. 

You will see, hear, smell, touch, do something and the memories will flood 

all over you. You’ll be wringing wet. 

It won't matter where you are or who is watching. Or what triggered it. 

It will happen and when it does, 

you can choose to explain or to be quiet. 

I don’t mind telling people I have 

children in heaven, and sometimes, 

both my husband and I still grieve that. 

We always will. 

Death is part of life. 

I feel that if it happens to them, 

they will know it's okay to grieve, 

no matter how long it's been. 

It doesn't mean we haven't processed 

our grief and moved forward. 

It just means we will never forget the 

eternal blessing of their lives. 

I could never forget Ethan, Rachel, 

Abigail or Matthew. They weren’t born 

just to be forgotten. 

They live today, just not in my presence. 

And there's nothing wrong with that. 

This is normal protocol about something 

that never is quite given to normal. 

Grieve well. 

It's part of who you are. 

When you grieve well, you give others the strength to grieve too, and together, we rise up stronger in our dark nights 

and walk into the new horizon by faith. 

~Ann Stewart Porter

 

"Suicide and drug overdoses are far too prevalent among our young adults and teens. 

I had a recent conversation with someone who doesn't understand addiction. 

What most don't realize is the drugs are keeping them alive, 

until they aren't. 

Every highly addicted person I've met is suicidal. 

They simply don't have tools, guidance and love needed to combat it." 

A friend of mine who works in recovery shared that, 

and I concur, 

although I haven't asked each person struggling with addiction that specific question, it comes up over and over. 

The leading cause of death among those 15 to 49 years of age is drug overdose as of 2015, 

never before has it been even close to that. 

And suicide is the 3rd highest cause of death in that group.

 

Fallen from the ledge

  The almost visible Veil of tears one enters when walking the downtown streets of 3rd and Burnside.  

One senses the subtle change, into an other-worldly habitation, 

an entrance into the surreal, where the shrieks and cries of human souls echo off the inner-city walls.

The sidewalk surges with sorrow and loss, and human misery is evident in every face. 

Tragedy doesn’t discriminate, 

the young share space with the middle aged and the hoary head.

Each step I take draws me closer to the Savior’s heart, and I sense His presence there like no other place I tread.

The sights and peals of distress penetrate my soul like no sermon ever has.

In this sea of suffering what can one man do? But Jesus bids me go to this “voice of woe” and trust Him to guide my way. 

Each time, 

  every time, 

when my contribution is but “two mites,” 

He descends and wraps me in the warmth of kingdom love, and rewards me with His mystical rapture.

 

I read this today and agreed with so much of it I thought I'd post it. 

 "l like people who begin by blurting out something overly personal. 

I like people who aren’t afraid to walk around with a stain on their shirt. 

I like people who give compliments to strangers in the grocery store and make friends when they’re washing their hands in the bathroom. 

I like people who get passionate about ideas and excited about others’ success stories. 

I like people who live a little outside of the box, who march to the beat of their own drum, and who make it a mission to help those around them.

 I like people who own their failures, and apologize easily. 

I like people who know who they are deep down inside, 

and let that person shine like crazy. 

I like people who tell the truth. 

I like people who can joke often and don’t take themselves too seriously. 

I like people who love life so much they don’t make room for drama or petty behavior, only more love. 

I like people who like people. 

I like people who like books, and stupid tv shows, 

and who throw simple parties with pizza and paper plates.

 I like people who stop by just to say hello, and bring your favorite Sonic drink with them. 

I like people who have their own opinions, 

but aren’t threatened by you having your own opinion as well.

 I like people who ask for help. 

I like people who show up. 

I like people who don’t feel the need to show off. 

I like people who don’t pick up before you come over, and people who don’t pick fights where fights don’t belong.

 I like people who say “bring whoever you want.” 

I like people who build bigger tables, and greet every single person with a warm hello, as if they have been best friends for years.

 I like people whose eyes get bright when they talk about their passions, 

and people whose voice gets louder when they sing their favorite song. 

I like people who build businesses and who build up everyone around them. 

I like people who aren’t perfect.

I like people who aren’t cool. 

I like people who aren’t trying to keep up with everyone else. 

I like people who aren’t trying to be someone they were never made to be. 

I like people who are so real it hurts and it makes other people uncomfortable. 

I love all people, but man, there’s a special place in my heart for the messy ones." 

Love, 

Amy Weatherly

  “Don’t talk to me about it being harder or less fun to read. We are not here to toy with trivialities but to wrestle with the weightiness of the oversight of souls.”

-Ray Van Neste, PhD, University of Aberdeen, dean and professor of biblical studies in the School of Theology and Missions at Union University

 Loving God with all our minds is good and important work in the life of faith and witness. A studious and generous love for knowledge in order to be better equipped in scripture and reason is critical in an age of trivialities, distractions, deceptions, and disinformation. We have to be diligent and discerning in a highly curated and algorithmic based world of information and education on the internet.

The internet is primarily an individual based learning system devoid of an important component of Jesus-based, biblical discipleship: learning in community and connection to meaningful relationships of different ages, experiences and cultural or racial differences.

Extreme isolation and overly-independent learning is one of the primary challenges and dangers of the intellectual life today. We need to be exposed to healthy and wide conversations, encounter broad and different views and perspectives and be having conversations that expand beyond a self-built echo chamber. If we do not have much of this we can develop malformations of the life of the mind and build prideful conclusions that are rarely challenged or defended.

The Church, the believing community is a God ordained, safe but challenging place to do this good but difficult work together.

An alcoholic friend of Philip Yancey once said to him:

 

“When I'm late to church, people turn around and stare at me with frowns of disapproval. 

I get the clear message that I'm not as responsible as they are. 

When I'm late to AA, 

the meeting comes to a halt and everyone jumps up to hug and welcome me. 

They realize that my lateness may be a sign that I almost didn't make it. 

When I show up, it proves that my desperate need for them 

won out over my desperate need for alcohol."

Lets make sure that people know how welcome they always are, 

that our table is really big 

and that there is always a place with their name on it at our table.

 Have you heard of Rose Livingston? The woman pictured on the far right. 

I hadn't until today when my son shared how this little Christian woman, who wanted to go to the mission field, decided to stay in the U.S. and rescue females trapped in the sex trafficking. I've written some thing about her because she is beyond inspirational. Mercy, I wept, I was convicted and feel like a pagan after reading of her heroics. Much like Paul in her devotion, and, in her suffering for righteousness. 

Rose Livingston focused on girls that were nine to seventeen years of age, Livingston made it her life's work to free thousands of girls and women from sexual slavery beginning on March 4, 1903  Her modus operandi was to follow men that were sexual slavers, figure out what females were held captive, make friends with them, and encourage them to escape.                                                                                               She looked for enslaved girls in opium dens, dance halls, and bars, particularly in New York City's Chinatown and the Brooklyn Navy Yard. In 1907, there were 300 girls younger than 18 in Chinatown that were sex workers, out of a total of 800 white slaves. Six years later, she could not find any girls under age 18 there.  

In 1914, a contract was taken out on her life for $500 (equivalent to $14,610 in 2022). Once, a few years before 1934, she was hurt so badly trying to save a girl from Boston that she was in the hospital for five months and on crutches for two years. She was pushed from a roof of the red-light district in Brooklyn. By 1933, she had 22 beatings, one of which caused severe injury of her eyes. After a number of operations, her eyesight continued to fail her in the 1930s. She carried a gun with her, but was never known to have shot at anyone.

As she rescued women, she put herself in danger. About five feet tall and weighing about 90 pounds, she faced male procurers, or cadets, as she tried to rescue girls and women. She was severely beaten, shot, wounded, and thrown out windows. In 1912, she was severely beaten, resulting in permanent damage. She had severe neuritis and persistent neuralgic pain due to a fracture of the alveolar process of the upper jaw bone. On one side of her face, she lost all of the teeth of the upper jaw.

 My oldest son wrote this romantic poem to his wife of 34 years.

Think not for a minute God does not honor faithful love and service.

"I’d Never Known Sacred Fire"

"At our very first kiss…

I hesitated because I’d never known sacred fire.

I was delighted and slightly touched by an unknown dread, like I was on a path I’d never tread before.

I knew you were requiring more of me than I’d ever given.

I felt a demand to be a good man more than I’d ever been for another woman.

I felt a foretaste of what it will probably feel like coming into Zion for the first time where all one’s deepest inner associations with story, faith and meaning find a place, a moment, a people. It's like you’ve found your heart’s home, but you feel like you’ve been invited by mistake.

Now when I kiss you…

I feel lips warmed and worn by a life of love that took more than we ever knew it would cost and more than we ever believed could be experienced.

Each year I’ve kissed a slightly different woman, but the flame has never burned out, even as it has changed us both.

As the light of that sacred fire has burned, you’ve become more of a truer woman than I’ve ever known.

You welcome and honor a life lived well.

Grey has become your visible testament and glory, like the coastal seas that take the breath away and rumble and roar in a manner that leaves one uneasy, but utterly captivated.

You continue to give love to others when they do not always deserve it.

You are willing to work unseen and faithfully, and long for little other…than gratitude.

Each year crowns you with another diadem of grace and wisdom and the depth of your vision brings greater light to all who are blessed to be close enough to hear you.

You hold others up and truly reflect the Lord who is our helper in all the ways that being a helpmate reflects.

Your children call you blessed for the many gifts you’ve given them as mother.

You’ve freely given the pearls of the music of Heaven to so many and only in eternity will you hear the final masterpiece of every note you’ve sung.

When you now give a kiss…

It’s given with far greater knowledge of all it means to give and for that I am forever grateful.

I’m so grateful for the day you were born."

Eric Blauer 2024.

 

The Christian walk is one of ever expanding revelation. Or it should be... 

One of the biggest changes the Lord has taken me through has been working and volunteering in Jails, Missions and Christian drug and alcohol recovery programs. 

The impact this made on me is incalculable, the lessons immeasurable, the bonds of Christian love created, countless. In the 'halls of mercy' within these programs Christ shed His grace so powerfully that words can't begin to describe. 

The jails, missions and recovery programs are where men and women look their demons in the eyes, and with the help and guidance of caring staff, they confront those demons and learn faith, repentance and begin the journey to joy and wholeness. 

I'm not sure how to state what I feel about it, so I'll clumsily try and explain. 

Before these experiences, much of my Christian life centered around Church, Family, Bible study, Fellowship, and dabbling in Christian charities and service. All of these things are so important, they were before, and they are now, but after experiencing the involvements with those in true crisis, well, I think it can be summed up with the lyrics to Ray LaMontagne's song "Empty."  

 "Well, I looked my demons in the eyes

Lay bare my chest, said, "Do your best to destroy me"

See, I've been to hell and back so many times

I must admit you kinda bore me." 

To paraphrase that I'd say, I've watched people look their demons in the eye, lay themselves open to God's miraculous workings, and even though hell bound them for a season, I've witnessed Christ crush the jaws of evil and let the captives free, and after all I've seen, to go back to the level of Christianity I knew before.......

I must admit, it kind of bores me. 

 

A good friend was lamenting the loss of someone they knew, but never got to know well, she explains ----

"A time ago, I was standing at the casket
of someone who never loved me, and
had indeed been a thorn in my side.
And while I’ve done the wrong thing
plenty,
this time, I did it right.

I had forgiven. I had loved.
I had tried to restore and had to let it be.
This gave me a deep peace.

I’m sorry they missed me, but I have no regret. As arrogant as I may sound,
I hope you understand.
I was a glorious gift sent from God
to bless them.
And they missed me.

And because they didn’t choose to love me…
I also missed them,
and what God wanted to teach me through them.
While it was their loss, God graciously made up my gain."

I had to respond to her because it hit close to home, I said ---

Mmmm, what a thoughtful, healing post.
The complexities in human relations are deep and wide,
thrilling, and, sadly, killing.

"They missed me.
And because they didn’t choose to love me…I also missed them, and what God wanted to teach me through them."
That stuck out to me:

I'm old enough to know that everyone has gold inside,
and if we can dig deep enough their is great reward.
But some are so scarred that it takes more digging than I'm mature enough to do at this point in life.

So, like you said, "they missed me, and I missed them," what a pity.

   I was just talking with my middle son and he was recounting what happened when he left the mission on Thursday; he had a good time mentoring a couple guys there and left the mission doors in the afterglow of the Holy Spirit.

 As he was walking to his car he noticed a young man laying, face down, in an alcove. He was, as he explained to me, the most pitiful and pathetic sight he's seen since he's been going down there. He was laying flat on his face, and so much disgusting snot was coming out of his nose it almost appeared to be like some horrid creature was coming up from the sidewalk into the man;  he could hardly stand to look at him. 

If that were not bad enough, he was in kind of a kneeling position where his butt was sticking up, and his pants were completely down. His butt was covered in awful sores, and all in all, he was so repugnant, but so helpless, as he laid there continually moaning with intermittent burst of shouting. 

As Marc walked by him, he felt such a powerful pull from the Spirit that he knew he just couldn't go by without doing something, but he had no idea whatsoever what he could do. He simply couldn't touch him because he was so appalling, so he kneeled down and tried to talk to him. He had the sense that he could hear him because his moaning would stop for a second before continuing. 

Marc's heart was breaking, but he felt completely impotent, and as bystanders saw him, they all, one by one, moved on. 

So there he sat, completely overwhelmed by this pathetic individual and not a clue what he could do. 

There is an organization to call called "Clean and Safe" and they will evaluate and have resources, 

but at that moment the Holy Spirit began to gush up within him and like a mighty rushing wind, moved Marc to pray. So he said yes, although not knowing what to say, but he began praying and the Spirit fell so forcefully on him his words just gushed with love, hope and supplication. 

The man stilled, stopped his moaning and lay there quiet.            Marc finished his prayer and stood up, the man lay still as Marc left and got in his car. The presence of God was so strong he just sobbed and rejoiced all the way home.   

He was in tears recounting the story, I was in tears rejoicing, and we both were left in amazement with what God will do if we but stop and try.

I'd like to give a report that all was well with that young man, and he was restored and all turned out great, and we pray it is so, but we know that at that moment in time, prayer was needed, and prayer was given. 

 

Are you a Christian Mystic? 

Does your faith in Christ include moments and revelations that are beyond human description? Does the Holy Spirit move in you? Christian mysticism is rarely spoken of and less understood. Christ's teachings and actions urge us to enter into a union with the Father and the son, guided by His Spirit, and that union takes on many dimensions as all of Christianity testifies of. 

I've gathered a handful of soul penetrating quotes to ponder. 

"He who loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him and will disclose Myself to him.” Jn. 14:21

Ghent asks: "Will future conceptions of God take on a more mystical cast?" 

Armstrong answers - "I don't think, in our kind of society, we'll be able to develop a full-blown mystical religion or concept of God because we seek, instant gratification, fast food, endless talk and noise. The silence in mysticism is alien. People want to do a few courses in mysticism, rather like the way you do French before going on holiday, and expect to emerge a mystic. Mysticism isn't like that." 

"The soul of the great mystic does not stop at ecstasy, as at the end of a journey. The ecstasy is indeed rest, if you like, but as though at a station, where the engine is still under steam, the ground movement becoming a vibration on one spot, until it is time to race forward again." 

 "We pass into mystical states from out of ordinary consciousness as from a less into a more, as from a smallness into a vastness, and at the same time as from an unrest to a rest. We feel them as reconciling, unifying states. They appeal to the yes-function more than to the no-function in us, In them the unlimited absorbs the limits and peacefully closes the account." 

  "Mystical experience... is the awareness of a Presence, the consciousness of a Beyond. The most striking effect of such experience is not new fact-knowledge, not new items of empirical information, but new moral energy, a heightened conviction, increased caloric quality, enlarged spiritual vision, an unusual radiant power of life. In short, the whole personality, in the case of the constructive mystics, appears to be raised to a new level of life."

 "Mysticism means nothing, absolutely nothing, to the one who has no experience of it."   

 The quotes, and the authors below, are those who inspire John McArthur, R.C.Sproul and John Piper, among millions of others who are familiar with the great Puritans.

If you’re a Christian make it your goal to read each of these authors,
You will grow and mature in Christ if you do.
Fuel for the soul, love to spread the kingdom.


While I live, I'll love; and while I breathe, I'll bless.
—Charles Spurgeon

The very nature of God is love. If it should be enquired what God is, it might be answered that He is an infinite and incomprehensible fountain of love.
—Jonathan Edwards

The single desire that dominated my search for delight was simply to love and to be loved.
—Augustine

To love, and be beloved, this is heaven.
—Archibald Alexander

There is no father like God for love. You cannot love your own soul so entirely as he loves you.
—Thomas Watson

The love of Christ is astonishing. It is unparalleled. It surpasses knowledge.
—James Smith

Man’s heart cannot comprehend the unfathomable depth and burning zeal of God’s love toward us.
—Martin Luther

God is love itself, and the infinite fountain and ocean of it.
—Jonathan Edwards

We must not think to bring love to God, but we must fetch love from God.
We must light our candle at his fire.
Think of his love to us, and beg the Spirit of love from him;
love is a fruit of the Spirit.
—Richard Sibbes

My God, spiritualize my affection! Give me to know what it is to have the intense and passionate love of Christ.
—Thomas Chalmers

Nothing can provoke love more than to know that one is loved.
—Thomas Aquinas

Precious Lord! continue to surprise my soul with the tokens of thy love.
—Robert Hawker

Resolved, to examine carefully, and constantly, what that one thing in me is,
which causes me in the least to doubt of the love of God;
and to direct all my forces against it.
—Jonathan Edwards (age 19)

All our doubting’s are nothing but so many questionings of his love.
—John Owen

Nay, I will read thy book, and never move
Till I have found therein thy love.
—George Herbert

Let us labor to grow more in the assurance of God's love, and all the evidences of it.
Let us dwell long in the meditation of these things.
—Richard Sibbes

 “It is not the critic who counts; 

not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, 

or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

 

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, 

whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; 

who strives valiantly; 

who errs, who comes short again and again, 

because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; 

but who does actually strive to do the deeds; 

who knows great enthusiasms, 

the great devotions; 

who spends himself in a worthy cause;

 

who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, 

and who at the worst, if he fails, 

at least fails while daring greatly, 

so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

― Theodore Roosevelt

"But the noble man 

devises noble plans;

And by noble plans he stands."

Isaiah 32:8