We hear a lot about evangelism today and how the church must pay more attention to evangelism. But mostly evangelism is not what we tell people, unless what we tell is totally consistent with who we a...
Stories are like children. They grow in their own way.
Silence fell between them, as tangible as the dark tree shadows that fell across their laps and that now seemed to rest upon them as heavily as though they possessed a measurable weight of their own.
If we all knew each morning that there was going to be another morning, and on and on and on, we's tend not to notice the sunrise, or hear the birds, or the waves rolling into the shore. We'd tend not...
If it's not good enough for adults, it's not good enough for children. If a book that is going to be marketed for children does not interest me, a grownup, then I am dishonoring the children for whom...
I think your mythology would call them fallen angels. War and hate are their business, and one of their chief weapons is un-Naming - making people not know who they are. If someone knows who he is, re...
George MacDonald gives me renewed strength during times of trouble--times when I have seen people tempted to deny God--when he says, The Son of God suffered unto death, not that men might not suffer,...
We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are.
Stories make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more loving.
—Why can’t I hide it, too? Meg thought. Why do I always have to show everything?
Well, then, someone just tell me how we got here! Calvin's voice was still angry and his freckles seemed to stand out on his face. Even traveling at the speed of light, it would take us years and year...
We want them to see their home planet, Mrs. Whatsit said. The Medium lost the delighted smile she had worn till then. Oh, why must you make me look at unpleasant things when there are so many delightf...
She knew that the freedom was in herself, just as the prison had been.
More personally, my intellect is a stumbling block to much that makes life worth living: laughter, love; a wiling acceptance of being created. The rational intellect doesn't have a great deal to do wi...
Love isn't how you feel. It's what you do.
Jesus, who comes across in the Gospels as extraordinarily strong, begged in the garden, with drops of sweat like blood running down his face, that he might be spared the terrible cup ahead of him, the...
It was a star, Mrs. Whatsit said sadly. A star giving up its life in battle with the Thing. It won, oh, yes, my children, it won. But it lost its life in the winning.
It is the ability to choose which makes us human.
It is possible to suffer and despair an entire lifetime and still not give up the art of laughter.
If we accept that we have at least an iota of free will, we cannot throw it back the moment things go wrong. Like a human parent, God will help us when we ask for help, but in a way that will make us...