Best 400 quotes in «redemption quotes» category

Gospel time is our spiritual harvest, and it is notorious folly to sleep or loiter in harvest. The time of the gospel is a time indeed--namely, a time of light, a time of love, a time of life, a time of liberty (Matt. 4:16; 2 Tim. 1:10; Ezek. 16:8; Rom. 5:8; Isa. 61:6; John 8:36). Now, the trumpet of jubilee sounds, and all debts and mortgages may be taken up and released. Here is liberty for the poor captives and the opening of the prison to them that are bound. 'Tis now an "accepted time," a "day of salvation" (2 Cor. 6:2), a time to accept or a time to be accepted, a golden and glorious time indeed. Behold, now there is a broad and clear way to His mercy seat. The flaming sword is gone; the partition wall is down; all bars and gates are removed; an act of indemnity is proclaimed; and there is a free admission for all to come and be saved. Pardons are ready (Isa. 55:6-7).

Grey hoped the Church would yet be able to save England from the fate of Tyre or Carthage, the great trading nations

Having appeared at the end of the first creation, man [and women] stand at the beginning of the second, since the world is transfigured through [them].

He wanted to enslave himself in something so he could set himself free.

How I wish, how fervently I ache, to take my mother's hand, kiss her check,tell her I love her, and watch her smile. For me it was not, nor can ever be. But for you, reach out now. Reach out for your mother's hand-the hands of those you love. Say I love you. Don't wait.

Great was the work of creation, but greater was the work of redemption. Great wisdom was seen in making us—but more miraculous wisdom in saving us. Great power was seen in bringing us out of nothing—but greater power in helping us when we were worse than nothing. (...) In the creation, God gave us ourselves; in the redemption, He gave us Himself.

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord, Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, And make a suit unto him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancell th’ old. In heaven at his manour I him sought: They told me there, that he was lately gone About some land, which he had dearly bought Long since on earth, to take possession. I straight return’d, and knowing his great birth, Sought him accordingly in great resorts; In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts: At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of theeves and murderers: there I him espied, Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.

He believed in redemption, the inchoate grace in every person he met. It was one of the few things he had to believe in, the possibility of beauty when faced with the reality of so much ugliness.

He knew...there was no redemption for the damned.

Hell is a choice because salvation is available to anyone who seeks it.

Here is a boy who was waiting to be punished. But then, unexpectedly, he ¯nds that his fault has been overlooked or forgiven and at once the world reappears in brilliant colors, full of delightful prospects. Here is a soldier who was waiting, with a heavy heart, to su®er and die in battle. But suddenly the luck has changed. There is news! The war is over and everyone bursts out singing! He will go home after all! The sparrows in the plowland were crouching in terror of the kestrel. But she has gone; and they °y pell-mell up the hedgerow, frisking, chattering and perching where they will.

He smirked. “Decision time, pretty lady... back to reality?” She touched his cheek. “Or down the rabbit hole?

How can we fully appreciate the redemption Jesus performed unless we fully understand from what we were redeemed?

How were we so lucky? Two people lost in a world only to find solace and companionship in someone just as fractured as they are. I think destiny has played a hand in our union.

… I am born and born again. I am born to represent the white plain of redemption to fuck carefully siphoning the blood out of you. I am reconstructing my body to take in what you took out, and it fits.

I am redeemed and saved by grace.

I am thankful to the Lord for my redemption. I was once lost, now I am saved by grace.

I could shoot you in the foot." "Please do. At least then I wouldn't have to endure this sock humiliation any longer.

I encourage anyone who has gone through hardships to look back through their life’s chapters and see what can be turned into a book. For you never know what heartache God, one day, can turn into a redemptive story.

If the characters are not wicked, the book is." We must tell stories the way God does, stories in which a sister must float her little brother on a river with nothing but a basket between him and the crocodiles. Stories in which a king is a coward, and a shepherd boy steps forward to face the giant. Stories with fiery serpents and leviathans and sermons in whirlwinds. Stories in which murderers are blinded on donkeys and become heroes. Stories with dens of lions and fiery furnaces and lone prophets laughing at kings and priests and demons. Stories with heads on platters. Stories with courage and crosses and redemption. Stories with resurrections.

If you notice, the moral law in the other legal codes separates people (the Laws of Manu, the caste system, the Code of Hammurabi with the slave/owner distinction). In Islam, the violator is inferior to the obedient one. By contrast, in the Hebrew-Christian tradition, the law unifies people. No one is made righteous before God by keeping the law. It is only following redemption that we can truly understand the moral law for what it is---a mirror that indicts and calls the heart to seek God's help. This makes moral reasoning the fruit of spiritual understanding and not the cause of it.

...if you redeem yourself, then believe in your own redemption.

If you try to convert someone, it will never be to effect his salvation but to make him suffer like yourself, to be sure he is exposed to the same ordeals and endures them with the same impatience. You keep watch, you pray, you agonize-provided he does too, sighing, groaning, beset by the same tortures that are racking you. Intolerance is the work of ravaged souls whose faith comes down to a more or less deliberate torment they would like to see generalized, instituted. The happiness of others never having been a motive or principle of action, it is invoked only to appease conscience or to parade noble excuses: whenever we determine upon an action, the impulse leading to it and forcing us to complete it is almost always inadmissible. No one saves anyone; for we save only ourselves, and do so all the better if we disguise as convictions the misery we want to share, to lavish on others. However glamorous its appearances, proselytism nonetheless derives from a suspect generosity, worse in its effects than a patent aggression. No one is willing to endure alone the discipline he may even have assented to, nor the yoke he has shouldered. Vindication reverberates beneath the missionary's bonhomie, the apostle's joy. We convert not to liberate but to enchain. Once someone is shackled by a certainty, he envies your vague opinions, your resistance to dogmas or slogans, your blissful incapacity to commit yourself.

I have a light A light that guides my sight I have a light A light that brightens my night I have a light A light that makes me a knight I have a light I have a light Oh yes! I have a light I have a light! Christ Jesus my Light I have a light I light that raises me high I have a light A light that makes me see far I have a light A light that makes me a light I have a light I have a light Oh yes! I have a light I have a light! Christ Jesus my Light I have a light A light that makes me right I have a light A light that makes me wise I have a light A light that makes me bright I have a light I have a light Oh yes! I have a light I have a light! Christ Jesus my Light

I have resisted temptation for two and a half minutes at least: my redemption is sure.

Human glory is not just found in what people were originally created to be – the image of dynamic God, spiritually functioning like him in the physical world. This glory is displayed even more powerfully in what they are now redeemed to be – the image of his Son, Jesus Christ.

If a man can save himself, there is no need for a Saviour.

If I had one night, I'd hold you in my arms, Find redemption, no more contention, Keeping you close. Too long, years gone, Wasted away. One night, our night, Remember this. I won't forget you, No I won't forget you.—Red-Eyed Loons

If there is anything worse than evil, it is nothingness. At least evil has a form, and a voice, and a purpose, however depraved. Perhaps some good can even come out of evil: a terrible deed of violence against someone weaker may lead others to act in order to ensure that such a deed is not perpetrated again, whereas before they might have been unaware of the reasons why an individual might behave in such a way, or they might simply have chosen to ignore them. And evil, as we saw with the Blacksmith, always contains within itself the possibility of its own redemption. It is not evil that is the enemy of hope: it is nothingness.

If there was ever such a thing as redemption, they would have to open a magnum of the stuff for Moist. No, a brewery.

If there is regret and an awareness of the intention not to repeat it, and an awareness of the lack of a true identity of the mind that performed the action, or familiarity with the lack of a true identity of all phenomena, that person's morality can be said to be pure.

If this cursed and fallen world holds such beauty as what I see, Imagine the beauty of paradise that's gladly waiting for me.

If we are stretching to live wiser and not just smarter, we will aspire to learn what love means, how it arises and deepens, how it withers and revives, what it looks like as a private good but also a common good. I long to make this word echo differently in hearts and ears—not less complicated, but differently so. Love as muscular, resilient. Love as social—not just about how we are intimately, but how we are together, in public. I want to aspire to a carnal practical love—eros become civic, not sexual and yet passionate, full-bodied. Because it is the best of which we are capable, loving is also supremely exacting, not always but again and again. Love is something we only master in moments.

If you want to be used by God, you must care about what God cares about, what he cares about most is the redemption of the people he made.

I have made mistakes and I have hurt people, I do not deny that fact. But I have corrected those mistakes vigorously once I understood the error of my ways.

I knew if there was ever a girl who could love me, warts and all, it would be the girl who went to the pound and adopted the ugliest, meanest piece of crap she could find." My heart swelled, my smile following. "All because she believed that under every rough exterior was a soul begging to be loved and accepted.

I'll love you until I'm ashes in the dirt beneath the Earth. Then, I'll love you even more.

I'm sixteen with what I hope will be a long life ahead, but I'm willing to give it up, to give anything to let her live, to let her make it through the night.

I’m going to fix everything.” “Ah, but darling, you don’t have to.

I like this dirty Chase, this crude and irreverent man. I want to go where he's taking me. I need to be dragged down to where he is so we can build ourselves back up, together, stronger.

In order to mount to heaven, you used the Inferno to give you momentum. "The further down you gain your momentum," you often used to tell me, "the higher you shall be able to reach. The militant Christian's greatest worth is not his virtue, but his struggle to transform into virtue the impudence, dishonor, unfaithfulness, and malice within him. One day Lucifer will be the most glorious archangel standing next to God; not Michael, Gabriel, or Raphael—but Lucifer, after he has finally transubstantiated his terrible darkness into light.

In my sixteen years, I have experienced heartbreak, tragedy and transcending love. In my thirteenth year, I moved to Westerly and experienced all three.

In order to welcome redemption, one must first embrace the utter hopelessness of failure. For how can a man look for rescue unless he knows he is truly lost?

Inevitably, mistakes are going to happen, sin is going to win a round or two in the battle of life, but there is always, always, always a way back because Jesus Christ has our backs.

In the eyes of Buddha, there are no evil people, only people who don't yet have light in their hearts.

Sorry. Sorry means you feel the pulse of other people's pain as well as your own, and saying it means you take a share of it. And so it binds us together, makes us trodden and sodden as one another. Sorry is a lot of things. It's a hole refilled. A debt repaid. Sorry is the wake of misdeed. It's the crippling ripple of consequence. Sorry is sadness, just as knowing is sadness. Sorry is sometimes self-pity. But Sorry, really, is not about you. It's theirs to take or leave. Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won't settle until things are set right and true. Sorry doesn't take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It's an offering. A gift.

Is there any riches like redemption?

I suppose the time is ripe for them now, for the people who were there. They're ready now, I think. So... they appear before us as part of their redemption." "But you and I, we weren't to blame, were we?" Suddenly slamming his thick palm down on the table, Uncle Some shouted, "Show me one soul who wasn't to blame!" (2007: 162)

In worldly terms, she was totally innocent; Eve before the fall, with no knowledge of good and evil. She made one realize how necessary the Fall was; without it, there would have been no human drama, and so no literature, no art, no suffering, no religion, no laughter, no joy, no sin and no redemption. Only camera work (towards which Mrs. Dobbs's painting was reaching) and sociology (which her sister, Beatrice Webb, may be said to have invented).

I spent the past two years fearing the worst, that I chose safe arms to hold me when his arms weren’t the arms I longed to be in, nor were they really safe. I thought it’s what I deserved. I thought I couldn’t belong in the arms I wanted to really hold me.