When we get ashes we are not publicly proclaiming our greatness, but God’s. We are not saying, 'look at how great I am,' but 'ask me about how great my God is!'

We can't understand our calling and our vocation until we listen to the Lord... until we look upon the Lord... until we realize who it is that we're really serving. Are we serving God? Or the world?

God made saints out of far worse people than you.

God will put someone in your path today who doesn't necessarily need you... but who desperately needs Christ in you.

God has great plans for you today... creative and unexpected means by which He will make you a saint. He needs only your joyful submission to His plan.

Giving God permission to make you a saint will ruin your life.

Pentecost is a celebration of God... a celebration of God's power... a celebration of God's desire to empower us and to dwell within us.

Authentic Christianity is a roller-coaster ride, not a merry-go-round.

The commandments are a gift, not a curse. Sin is less about breaking the rules and more about breaking the Father's heart.

If more husbands and fathers would put as much energy into their marriages and families as they do their jobs, the world would change.

Consider God's love for you. Now double it. Now multiply that by 900 trillion. You're still not even close.

Imagine a life, full of love?

Good intentions and earnest effort are not enough. Only Jesus can make an otherwise futile life productive.

That which you manifest is before you.The visible becomes inevitable. Your car goes where your eyes go.

You will face many troubles. But the Lord will deliver you each time.

Well, sir, it is precisely my notion that one sees and learns most of all by observing our younger generations.

I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.

Youth is cause, effect is age; so with the thickening of the neck we get data.

Musically, I would never run dry. Any time I sit down to an instrument, I could write a song.

Why did happy memories fade and blur until one could scarcely recall them at all, while horrible memories seemed to retain their blinding clarity and painful sharpness?

I believe in neighbourhood policing. We also need to look at young people being radicalised.