The real romantics are the boring ones - they let another heart bore a hole deep into theirs.
When the heart and mind focus on things unseen - that's when there's a visible change in us.
The Word God wastes nothing and He heals two broken hearts with one story - the reader and the writer.
When your ethnicity is heaven, then all adversity offers the gift of intimacy, driving you into the home of His heart.
That which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave.
Instead of giving someone a piece of your mind, it turns out far better if you give them a piece of your heart.
Lament is a cry of belief in a good God, a God who has His ear to our hearts, a God who transfigures the ugly into beauty. Complaint is the bitter howl of unbelief in any benevolent God in this moment, a distrust in the love-beat of the Father's heart.
Joy and pain, they are but two arteries of the one heart that pumps through all those who don't numb themselves to really living.