I am deep in my willed habits. From the outside, I suppose I look like an unoccupied house with one unconvincing night-light left on. Any burglar could look through my curtains and conclude I am empty. But he would be mistaken. Under that one light unstirred by movement or shadows there is a man at work, and as long as I am at work I am not a candidate for Menlo Park, or that terminal facility they cynically call a convalescent hospital, or a pine box. My habits and the unchanging season sustain me. Evil is what questions and disrupts.

Strange how reluctant I was to acknowledge that control of my fate lay beyond my own conscious will. Habit of a lifetime, I suppose.

We have created a culture of leadership "development" in the Church at the expense of ignore the ministry of the Church to making disciples.

The only way to be productive is to realize we don't HAVE TO be productive. Our goal is to PLEASE God, not APPEASE God.

Discipline is to present us before grace, it does not produce grace to make sense.

Cheap grace is the mortal enemy of the church