“I win not because of my own efforts or my own goodness, but rather through the grace, love, and mercy of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He died so that I might win this game of life and live with Him forever.” MightGamesJesusWinningChristMy OwnEffortLordForeverGraceGoodnessJesus ChristMercyDiedSaviorSavior Jesus Book:The One Year Daily Insights with Zig Ziglar Source: The One Year Daily Insights with Zig Ziglar
“Grace comes free of charge to people who do not deserve it and I am one of those people... Now I am trying in my own small way to pipe the tune of grace. I do so because I know, more surely than I know anything, that any pang of healing or forgiveness or goodness I have ever felt comes solely from the grace of God.” PeopleKnowsWayTryingFeltMy OwnHealingGraceGoodnessDeserveTunesGrace Of GodPipe Book:What's So Amazing about Grace? Source: What's So Amazing about Grace?
“I have come to understand that the self, my self, is inherently sacred. By virtue of its own improbability, its own miracle, its own emergence. And so I lift up my head, and I bear my own witness, with affection and tenderness and respect. And in so doing, I sanctify myself with my own grace.” SelfMy OwnVirtueGraceBearsMiracleSacredAffectionWitnessLiftsTendernessEmergenceSanctifyImprobability Author:Ursula Goodenough
“But when I saw the cursive grace of Guido Rahr's fly line writing prayers I couldn't read to the river gods of Outer Mongolia, I knew my name was written there too. Fly fishing was going to be my version of my father's sport, my nod to my Scottish ancestors and to my self, and to the fish crazed part of America I had claimed as my own.” WritingSelfAmericaFatherNamesSportsLinesMy OwnPrayerSawsGraceWrittenSeaRiversFishesVersionsBoatLakesFishingAncestorScottishFly FishingMongoliaCursiveGuidos Author:Jessica Maxwell
“It's unsettling, to lose the safety of the familiar, even when what's disrupted is an ordinary routine. When I began this poem, I was grieving for the loss of my old barbershop in Manhattan, and wondering at the strangeness of my new one. I didn't have any idea the poem would break into the underworld, opening a deeper subject: the continuing force of the old griefs routine helps to mediate, and my strange, sheer wonder at my own survival. Where's home now? In the contingent present, in which anything can disappear, and where we're sometimes granted some form of grace.” IdeasSometimesHelpingHomeFormForceLosesMy OwnLossGriefWonderBreakGraceSubjectsStrangeSurvivalOrdinarySafetyDeeperDisappearFamiliarOpeningGrantedGrievingRoutineContinuingSheerManhattanStrangenessUnderworldBarbershop Author:Mark Doty