Gillibran Brown

I guess that’s where faith comes in, the faith of a child to believe in Santa, the faith of an adult to believe in God, maybe faith is what makes something real? Maybe Rose had believed enough to create her own afterlife, maybe that’s the reward of faith…

I guess that’s where faith comes in, the faith of a child to believe in Santa, the faith of an adult to believe in God, maybe faith is what makes something real? Maybe Rose had believed enough to create her own afterlife, maybe that’s the reward of faith…

– Gillibran Brown –

Fun With Dick and Shane

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Timothy Keller

People who believe more must not be hard upon those believe less. Why? Because faith, ultimately, is not a virtue; it’s a gift. If you want to believe but can’t, stop looking inside. Go to Jesus and say, “help me believe.” Go to him and say, “So you’re the one who gives faith. I’ve been trying to work it out by reasoning, and thinking, and meditating, and going to church in hopes that a sermon will move me. I’ve been trying to get faith by myself. Now I see that you are the source of faith. Please, give it to me. ” If you do that, you’ll find that Jesus has been seeking you. He is the author of faith, the provider of faith, and the object of faith. (from King’s Cross)

Rush

I’ve got my own moral compass to steer byA guiding star beats a spirit in the skyAnd all the preaching voices -Empty vessels ring so loudAs they move among the crowdFools and thieves are well disguisedIn the temple and market placeLike a stone in the riverAgainst the floods of springI will quietly resistLike the willows in the windOr the cliffs along the oceanI will quietly resistI don’t have faith in faithI don’t believe in beliefYou can call me faithlessI still cling to hopeAnd I believe in loveAnd that’s faith enough for meI’ve got my own spirit level for balanceTo tell if my choice is leaning up or downAnd all the shouting voicesTry to throw me off my courseSome by sermon, some by forceFools and thieves are dangerousIn the temple and market placeLike a forest bows to winterBeneath the deep white silenceI will quietly resistLike a flower in the desertThat only blooms at nightI will quietly resist

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