I craved to make my faith as real as possible, which meant being recklessly honest in His presence.

We cannot experience free joy and happiness without experiencing the depths of pain.

...the sweetness of grace and freedom comes hand in hand with the uncomfortable, bitter-rawness of honest emotions and grief.

I wanted to forgive my mom and my dad so badly for the deep hurt they caused, the fear their broken marriage invoked in me, but I also didn’t want to pretend anymore. Pretending is exhausting.

I wasn't there yet, I wasn't finding joy and gladness in my barrenness, but I believed I would. I believed He would make my barren soul as beautiful as His perfect garden.

Jesus came emotional and raw, scandalously gracious. I want to be like Him.

In my gut-wrenching honesty and by acknowledging our big, big God, I found peace.

Fast forgiveness is a part of Christian culture I want to help change and transform. I ache for a journey of Jesus-like forgiveness. The kind demanding time and suffering in the process.

Wholeness is birthed through vulnerability and sensitivity, which is often conceived in brokenness. Jesus taught me this.

...when I decided to be fully honest about whatever my heart undergoes, I found immense peace among the chaos of uncertainties. In my honesty and by acknowledging our big, big God, I found peace.

I love them both as though I birthed them both, but also as though I adopted them both.

It is deplorable...to remove all the romance - all the mystery!

Desire, despair, desire. So many monsters.

I'm not a nice person.

In success be moderate. Humility makes great men twice honourable.

Before the iPhone, cyberspace was something you went to your desk to visit. Now cyberspace is something you carry in your pocket.

I'm like, OK, God, if there is an open door for me somewhere, this is what I always pray, I'm like, don't let me miss the open door. Show me where the open door is.

There was now a distinct manifestation of morning in the air, and presently the bleared white visage of a sunless winter day emerged like a dead-born child.

My ideal guy is my future husband. Not sure who he is yet, but he's out there.

Heed not the night; A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'Tis mantled by the vine.