Quotes about Inspiration

A song is a light we shine on others, not a light we shine on us.

If God can make a firefly's butt light up like a star, then anything is possible. Anything

Music is a gift. We make it to give it away.

I know I'm not alone and I don't walk alone. That I won't. When the thin whisper of a veil between what I can't see and what I can is pulled back and for one brief second I get a glimpse of what will be. Where the words 'might' and 'hope' intersect.

Colorado..... When God carved this place with His words, He lingered.

That was the night I learned the value of an old hymn. How something so old and "out-of-date" could say words my heart needed to hear and didn't know how to say.

To some, a guitar is just wood and string. To others, it's a shoulder, a jealous mistress, danger, sabbath, a voice in the wilderness, a suit of armor, a curtain to hide behind, a rock to stand on, a flying carpet, a hammer. But sometimes, in moments where light meets the dark, it's a stake we drive in the ground and the darkness rolls back as a scroll.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a host of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.

Rightly or wrongly, I want you to spend your life making music where the angels sing along. Being a reflection. I think that'd be a life well spent. I failed to say that before now, and for that I'm sorry. If I may offer one excuse - I've never raised a son before. Please allow a few mistakes. I'm figuring this out as we go.

Play simple, and people will join in. Sing along. Which, by the way, is the goal. Our job is to put a song in their mouths and let them sing it back to us. That's all that really matters." Then he added, "The great players aren't great because of all the notes they can play, but because of the ones they don't play.

And neither are you. So, if your mind is telling you that God slipped up and might have made one giant mistake when it comes to you, you remember the firefly's butt." The

Story is the bandage of the broken. Sutures of the shattered. The tapestry upon which we write our lives. Upon which we lay the bodies of the dying and the about-to-come-to-life. And if it's honest, true, hiding nothing, revealing all, then it is a raging river and those who ride it find they have something to give—that they are not yet empty.