I feel incredibly successful. I make a living as a writer and am able to help support a big family, my church, my bleeding-heart causes.

Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.

Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort, and letting it be there until some light returns.

Dogs are the closest we come to knowing the divine love of God on this side of eternity.

... the reason life works at all is that not everyone in your tribe is nuts on the same day. [pp. 65-66]

Sometimes I think that Jesus watches my neurotic struggles, and shakes his head and grips his forehead and starts tossing back mojitos.

Nothing heals us like letting people know our scariest parts: When people listen to you cry and lament, and look at you with love, it's like they are holding the baby of you.

Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.

I thought the secret of life was obvious: be here now, love as if your whole life depended on it, find your life's work, and try to get hold of a giant panda.

Human lives are hard, even those of health and privilege, and don't make much sense. This is the message of the Book of Job: Any snappy explanation of suffering you come up with will be horseshit.

Good books makes good life.Great books makes great life.

Because someone imagined it so we have, if you can imagine it you can release it.

Her touch is like doing simple mathWhen she sleeps in the bed, subtracting clothesThere is a red ink, like a sparkling red wine, adding colorsDividing body, remembering gods, without multiplying

Forgive us all, for we all have trespasses.

Faith is like pure eyes that enable us to see a pure and perfect world beyond the suffering world of samsara.

The chance of a criminal getting caught, is only slightly better than getting hit by lightning.

Them pains, when blues pains grab you, you'll sing the blues right.

The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles.

It may be coincidence that the decline of newspapers has corresponded with the rise of social media. Or maybe not.

Composing mortals with immortal fire.