Quotes about Struggle

The Mortification Of Sin In Particular Described

the life, vigour, and comfort of our spiritual life depend much on our mortification of sin.

Temptation is like a knife, that may either cut the meat or the throat of a man; it may be his food or his poison, his exercise or his destruction.

Christians are called to wage war against this enemy, knowing that there are only two options: "Be killing sin or it will be killing you."25

That the choicest believers, who are assuredly freed from the condemning power of sin, ought yet to make it their business all their days to mortify the indwelling power of sin.

It was no summer progress. A cold coming they had of it, at this time of the year; just, the worst time of the year, to take a journey, and specially a long journey, in. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off in solstitio brumali, the very dead of Winter.

Still, he never felt that the sermons he wrote at the cottage were good. By the time he got back to Washington to preach them, they no longer excited him. They seemed cold, lifeless. This was probably because Peter's best sermons rose out of the soil of emotion in his own heart. That emotion had to be a present, valid reality. He could not conjure it up.

Fixin' onything is man's work," came Opal's firm answer. Tearin' down or killin', that thar's easy. Any addle-pated fool kin pull the trigger of a rifle-gun or fling a rock. It's fixin' that's hard, takes a heap more doin'.

Bitterest pills for modern man to swallow: the problem of divine sovereignty as it is expressed particularly in the doctrine of predestination.

I wouldn't be surprised if in our lifetime dogs and firehoses are released or opened on us. I wouldn't be surprised if a few of us get a billy club to the head. I wouldn't be surprised if, you know, some of us go to jail just like Martin Luther King did on trumped up charges. Tough times are coming.

Sometimes the hardest part of the journey is believing you're worthy of the trip.

I collapsed to my knees and looked up at the predawn sky. "I hate you," I said softly. "I love you," the voice whispered back.