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“Prayer is where I trade the rhetoric of men the for the promises of God. It is where I petition perfection instead of count on those who someone survived an election. It is to accept the incomprehensible invitation of God to have this weak voice of mine thunder down the halls of heaven and roll up to the throne of the God of all eternity so that as small as I am, I might have an audience with this “King of kings.” It is where my fatigue becomes a stage upon which God can unveil His strength in stunning fashion, and where my fear is obliterated by His courage. Prayer is where I rise above this tangled world and find myself enveloped by a world that I visit today, but will live in tomorrow. Prayer is utterly indispensable to this cringing existence, for unless I rise above it I will be consumed by the darkness of it. Prayer is this and does this and will always be this.”

“And then I yet again find myself standing before the very thing that has relentlessly pummeled me, staring through a bloodied brow realizing that my most heroic efforts have utterly failed to bring this thing to an ‘end.’ And at those most hopeless of moments where I stand before a monster I cannot slay, it would behoove me to finally accept the reality that the ‘beginning of the end’ is only possible when I ‘begin’ to surrender that thing to God and ‘end’ my feeble attempts to slay it on my own.”

“Every time I write, I liken it to putting yet another candle in the window of a darkening world. And I am heartened as I remember that the expanse of the light will always be dictated by the intensity of the light and never by the depth of the darkness. And so, each day I seek to light yet another candle, and to do so with an illuminating brilliance so intense that the ever-growing collection of them will someday leave the darkness no place where light is not.”

“Without hesitation I would say that we should sing through the night. And that is not to say that we should enjoy the night or relish the darkness. I say that we should sing through the night because the darkness is only as deep as the light that is never more than a horizon away. And you will never find yourself in any night that is not turning in the direction of that horizon.”

“Despite my intellectual attempts to grasp it, I remain confounded beyond all repair to understand how God believes in us enough to choose us as the vehicles by which to destroy the darkness in the world that we, of our own accord brought into it. And while I may never understand all of it, it is my hope that I love God with enough passion and that I hate the darkness with enough ferocity to stand up and be that vehicle.”

“To be a light on a hill we must be a people on our knees. We become a light when we realize that we are not, and that any such light is imparted to us by the great God before whom we kneel. And as a gathered nation bowed on bended knee the darkness is exiled, the hill is ascended and its peak seized, the beacon is reignited in a burst of eternal light, and the people residing in the darkness of distant lands catch a glimpse of its ascending glory. And in the spectacle of hope ablaze, the people of distant lands now stand bathed in a light radiating out of a nation that bent its knee before a mighty God and climbed a hill with an inextinguishable torch.”

“As a kid we would step out on those thick summer nights and collect lightening bugs. And with a mason jar chock full of them, their combined brilliance would light up my hands as I held them. But, if I released them from the jar, their brilliance would light up the world, which now included the hands of everyone around me. And as I think about the light of the Gospel and the utter brilliance of its message, as Christians maybe we should get rid of our jars.”