The more we love, the more it hurts, and the more we have to let go.

We cannot let the haters of this world define us. Or frighten us into no longer being ourselves.

Worry is a weighty monster with poisoned tentacles. It clutches at us, grabs at our minds, steals our breath, our will. It lurks. It pounces. It colors how we perceive the world.

When the world careens out of control, we can rest in the fact that God spun this world with a simple word. Matter from emptiness. Beauty from void. Community from chaos.

God's heart…is not that we escape our lot, but that we learn to thrive in the midst of it.

Dare to be brave today, and trust that when you extend your wings, you will fly.

Because the culture we breathe and work in rushes against rest. It equates our worth with production and wealth and fame. The more we work toward those goals, the more society assigns us worth.

Growth comes from God, to those with surrendered, yielded hearts.

We may not understand the pathways God lays out before us. We may not even like walking the journey. But even in failure, we can trust that He’ll do more than we expect.

Jesus often calls us to risk. He asks us to be vulnerable, to be authentic, so others can see Him in and through us.

As I look back over my mountains of growth and compare them to the molehills where I stagnated, community often made the difference.

Jokes against the legal profession were what the legal profession loved most.

I had an unspoken treaty with myself to never lie in my lyrics, so, for a long time, when I wrote love songs, I would use genderless pronouns, like "dear" and "darling" - like some kind of granny!

Servant Leadership is the only #leadership that ultimately works.

I love the normalcy of Cleveland. There's regular people there.

We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It's the one that is divided In right or wrong.

The better class of Briton likes to send his children away to school until they're old and intelligent enough to come home again. Then they're too old and intelligent to want to.

You have your children and it's hard to even hold it in - emotionally.

I was very, very underdeveloped for my age, I hated what I looked like, so I thought everyone had gone stark raving mad.

And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.