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Faith In God Quotes

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Faith In God Quotes

“Start and end your day with God. Seek His presence and blessing daily.”

“Awake my soul. Awake my spirit. Awake my desires. Awake my light. Awake my mind. Awake my hope. Awake my faith. Awake my love.”

“Do you bother God with your persistent prayer? God wants you to bother him as it opens up a new view of God. This is what God wants. You see it as bothering, but God sees it as a relationship. So is God bothered? How do your trust issues change when you realize that God wants to be bothered by you?”

“At the end of life, nobody knows where the spirit goes.”

“My duty is to pray. I know God hears my prayers.”

“Who am I? What is my mission?”

“Where God guides, He provides. No matter how things look, God is still in control. Stay in peace and be hopeful. Your blessing is coming soon.”

“Belief in God puts our life on autopilot. We know that someone up there is watching us and is in control. Losing our faith puts off the autopilot, we have to run it manually, and check if everything is alright for ourselves. No wonder religion has a wide appeal; most of us are lazy and would like a supreme being to be in charge”

“Streams of brown, soapy water ran from him toward the drain. It circled there before falling in. He closed his eyes tightly so that the soap on his head wouldn’t burn them. “Here’s a little brain exercise for you, Azure: I used to wonder where all the water goes,” said Neela, sitting on a stool outside the tub. “It doesn’t just disappear into nothingness. It needs to go somewhere. But we don’t have normal sewers like the ground districts do. So, what do you think happens to it?” “I-I d-d-don’t know…” “There are pipes beneath us we can’t see. Just because we can’t see the pipes doesn’t mean that the pipes aren’t there. They’re there, alright. They have to be. Winding and weaving. We see their effects, otherwise we’d be swimming in filth. Some come from our sinks. Some come from our tubs. Some come from our toilets. But they’re all connected somewhere. All that dirty water is filtered out and treated somewhere. Some giant collection pool.”

“As missional leaders we need to see God as: Bigger than the problems we endure. Bigger than the pressures we experience. Bigger than the people who criticize us. Bigger than the pain we suffer. Bigger than the praise we receive. Bigger than the pride in our hearts.”

“She straightened her shoulders. "Sisy, are the ducks ready?" "All plucked and cleaned." Roxannah sautéed more onions and garlic with turmeric, adding roughly chopped walnuts to the sizzling butter before transferring them into a large mortar. Halpa gently removed the pestle from her hand. "I'll do this. You see to the duck." She cut the ducks into large pieces, trying to plan her next steps as she worked. The usual recipe required the duck to cook in water. Boiling made the meat tender. But it also meant that most of its flavor leached into the sauce, leaving the flesh of the fowl tasteless and stringy. She could roast the duck. But that would leave the sauce bland. Besides, roasted meat was never as fall-off-the-bone soft as boiled. It seemed stupid to try something new tonight of all nights. God, give me wisdom! Give me counsel so I know how to proceed. She waited for a moment, head bent low, trying to discern what to do. She felt a release, a sense of rightness about going forward with her risky plan. Nodding to herself, she added a dollop more butter to the same pan where she had fried the garlic and onions, which still held their lingering aroma. Sprinkling the duck with salt, she set it carefully into the sizzling pan. Halpa held the mortar under her nose. "Is this the consistency you want?" "Perfect." She fetched the jar of pomegranate molasses she had brought from home and added a heaping tablespoon to Halpa's paste, seasoning it with salt and a dash of turmeric, cinnamon, and cardamom. In the pan, she flipped the pieces of duck. Their skin had turned the color of bright copper, gleaming with melted butter. By now, the whole kitchen staff had gathered around to watch her. Even the Immortal craned his neck for a better view. She ignored them, keeping her attention on the duck. When both sides had fried evenly, she removed some of the excess fat, remembering Amestris's crack about the king's sleepless night. Pomegranate juice and a rich, gelatinous broth made from chicken bones would enrich the duck's flavor. She hoped the fried skin would seal in enough of the juices that simmering the fowl in liquid would not rob its flavor. Finally, she spooned in the paste from Halpa's mortar. Covering the pan, she lifted it over the fire to reduce the heat. It would simmer gently and, hopefully, be ready just in time for dinner.”

“Dear God, Let the anointing and the power of the Holy Spirit be mighty upon me, so I can who you want me to be.”