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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #prayer
How do we listen to his voice? With the ear of our heart. With love. Love has ears, as love has eyes. Just be there, and love him, and let him love you." (35). Easier said than done. "What will happen then? What will we hear? Let God take care of that. Seek only him, do not use him as a means to seek any other end. He is not your Santa, he is your Savior. I cannot tell you what he will give you, except for one thing: he will give you himself. He will give you more of himself the more you want him, that is, the more you love him. He wants to pour infinite riches into your soul; prayer is a way of opening up your soul so more of God can enter. ↗
ഒരുമിച്ചുള്ള ഭക്ഷണംപോലെ ഹൃദ്യമായിട്ടെന്തുണ്ട്? തെല്ലൊന്നു മനസ്സുവച്ചാൽ മേശയ്ക്കു ചുറ്റുമുള്ള ആ പഴയ അത്താഴശീലത്തെ തിരികെ പിടിക്കാവുന്നതേയുള്ളൂ. ഒറ്റയ്ക്ക് ആഹരിക്കേണ്ടതല്ല അന്നം. ഒരുമിച്ച്, മനസ്സുകൊണ്ടെങ്കിലുംചാരത്തിരിക്കുന്നയാൾക്ക് ഒരു പിടി വാരിക്കൊടുത്ത്… അങ്ങനെയാണ് തീേശ ഒരു വീടിനുള്ളിലെ ഏറ്റവും പാവനമായ ഇടമായി പരിണമിച്ചത്.ഒരുമിച്ച് പ്രാർത്ഥിക്കുന്ന കുടുംബം നിലനിൽക്കുന്നു എന്നു പറയുന്നതുപോലെ ഒരുമിച്ച് ഭക്ഷിക്കുന്ന വീടും ഏതൊരു കാറ്റിനെയും കോളിനെയും അതിജീവിക്കുമെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നു. ↗
Dear God, thank you for warm summer nights and candlelight and good food. But thank you most of all for friends. We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us. We pray in Christ's name, Amen. ↗
#food
In the Lord's Prayer, the first petition is for daily bread. No one can worship God or love his neighbor on an empty stomach. ↗
I prayed to a mystery. Sometimes I was simply aware of the mystery. I saw a flash of it during a trip to New York that David and I took before we were married. We were walking on a busy sidewalk in Manhattan. I don't remember if it was day or night. A man with a wound on his forehead came toward us. His damp, ragged hair might have been clotted with blood, or maybe it was only dirt. He wore deeply dirty clothes. His red, swollen hands, cupped in half-fists, swung loosely at his sides. His eyes were focused somewhere past my right shoulder. He staggered while he walked. The sidewalk traffic flowed around him and with him. He was strange and frightening, and at the same time he belonged on the Manhattan sidewalk as much as any of us. It was that paradox -- that he could be both alien and resident, both brutalized and human, that he could stand out in the moving mass of people like a sea monster in a school of tuna and at the same time be as much at home as any of us -- that stayed with me. I never saw him again, but I remember him often, and when I do, I am aware of the mystery. Years later, I was out on our property on the Olympic Peninsula, cutting a path through the woods. This was before our house was built. After chopping through dense salal and hacking off ironwood bushes for an hour or so, I stopped, exhausted. I found myself standing motionless, intensely aware of all of the life around me, the breathing moss, the chattering birds, the living earth. I was as much a part of the woods as any millipede or cedar tree. At that moment, too, I was aware of the mystery. Sometimes I wanted to speak to this mystery directly. Out of habit, I began with "Dear God" and ended with "Amen". But I thought to myself, I'm not praying to that old man in the sky. Rather, I'm praying to this thing I can't define. It was sort of like talking into a foggy valley. Praying into a bank of fog requires alot of effort. I wanted an image to focus on when I prayed. I wanted something to pray *to*. but I couldn't go back to that old man. He was too closely associated with all I'd left behind. ↗
Tal was looking at Hank when he said, "Just a moment. I want to hear it one more time." As they watched, Bernice found her way to Hank and Mary. She began to week openly, and spoke some quiet but impassioned words to them. Hank and Mary listened, as did the others nearby, and as they listened, they began to smile. They put their arms around her, they told her about Jesus, and then they began to weep as well. Finally, as the saints were gathered and Bernice was surrounded with loving arms, Hank said the words, "Let's pray... ↗
If desire causes suffering, it may be because we do not desire wisely, or that we are inexpert at obtaining what we desire. Instead of hiding our heads in a prayer cloth and building walls against temptation, why not get better at fulfilling desire? Salvation is for the feeble, that's what I think. I don't want salvation, I want life, all of life, the miserable as well as the superb. If the gods would tax ecstasy, then I shall pay; however, I shall protest their taxes at each opportunity, and if Woden or Shiva or Buddha or that Christian fellow--what's his name?--cannot respect that, then I'll accept their wrath. At least I will have tasted the banquet that they have spread before me on this rich, round planet, rather than recoiling from it like a toothless bunny. I cannot believe that the most delicious things were placed here merely to test us, to tempt us, to make it the more difficult for us to capture the grand prize: the safety of the void. To fashion of life such a petty game is unworthy of both men and gods. ↗
