Craig D. Lounsbrough Quotes
Sometimes we are so caught up in the disappointment of plans gone astray that we fail to recognize the potentially new options that might now exist.
Being our best is asking how can we take ourselves to the precipice of our own limits in any and every situation?
We must clean the lens of our hearts to see the state of our souls. However, too often the former is too dirty to even know that the latter exists.
Sacrifice is a noun in my vocabulary that should be a verb in my life.
Could it be that we lost something because had we not lost it, we would have lost ourselves?
If I continually focus on what I don’t have, my life will always be completely empty despite the fact that it’s completely full.
You are greater than you can possibly imagine, if you would only free yourself up to imagine.
I say that my value is based on my accomplishments. Christmas is God saying that I am His accomplishment and that will forever be enough.
Humanized gods are too small to captivate my imagination, or be worthy of my fullest allegiance.
The road ahead is not some predetermined path that I am forced to trod, but it is a rich byway that I can help create.
Faith is the resplendent key that liberates me from the impregnable confines meticulously constructed from the raw material of my disbelief.
Prayer is knowing that what I ask for is always far bigger than what I could ever articulate, but it is never too big for God to understand nor is it ever too vast for Him to deliver.
A hole is a space where everything has been moved out so that opportunity has space to move in.
To think that we grasp the fullness of life is to say that by holding a mere drop of water in our hands we are able to understand the immensity of the ocean.
Expectations are the shackles that will not permit something to be what it actually is.
To even begin to embrace the magnitude of God’s vision, we must first embrace our vision as being nothing more than vision by definition.
I paved the path to the very place I don’t want to be. But passing the blame off to someone else doesn’t put me any place else.
When my vision is numbed by apathy and narrowed by mediocrity, I can stand in the presence of great things and fail to see even the smallest of things.
Maybe what I need to be rescued from is the feeling that I don’t need to be rescued, for without a doubt this is the most difficult rescue of all.
Can anything be called an achievement if it does not simultaneously enhance the life of someone other than the one who has done the achieving?
The common theme of common sense is that it’s commonly rejected as uncommonly demanding.
Our imagination is God’s ingenious gift that hands us the privilege of romping and playing in realities that we can’t see only because we’ve yet to create them.
Looking back, I now realize that I left home in search of all the things that were right in the very place I left.
We’re constantly presented with opportunity, or the opportunity to create opportunity.
Our prayers are something akin to delivering a list, verses surrendering a life. The former will always leave me creating the next list, while the latter will leave me creating a new life.
It’s about recognizing that the great movements and moments in history laid on the backs of ordinary people who simply chose to do extraordinary things.
Rather than being incensed by the nature of the bruise, maybe we should be inspired by the possibilities in the bruise.
Dreams are ideas where the collar has been removed and the leash has been thrown away.
Opportunity is present is wreckage as much as it is in that which is wonderful. It’s not so much how it comes to us, but what we do with it.
There appears to be value in getting past a mentality that good things can only rest in good things.
I suppose that one of my greatest problem lays in the fact that I have assumed a blessing to be something that is mine for the taking, verses being something that by sheer exposure to it takes me.
The father who has selflessly poured himself into the life of his children may leave no other monument than that of his children. But as for a life well lived, no other monument is necessary.
It’s not that I’ve ‘faked my own death’ as the saying goes. Maybe it’s that I’ve ‘faked my own life, ’ and in doing so I’ve yet to realize how dead I really am.
If we’ve somehow become convinced that the script we followed ‘yesterday’ can’t be edited, it will be incredibly difficult to tell the difference between ‘yesterday’ and ‘tomorrow’.
In one way or another, every mission that I have ever set out on to rescue myself is yet another mission that I end up needing to be rescued from. Hence, there is God.
Have we ever thought to consider that God allows things in our lives to die so that in that death we might come to the precious realization of how little we’ve actually lived in the first place?
We are living out the drama of a pathetic story whose pages are smeared with our own handwriting.
The road from ‘here’ to ‘there’ is a map yet to be written with the pen I hold in my hand.
Too often fear is fiction madly running amuck, all the while madly tracking ‘muck’ across the floor of fact.
Disappointment focuses on ‘what is not, ’ and completely misses the far greater reality of ‘what now is.
We might do well to take a look at what we’ve crammed into our pockets as it will say much about what we’ve crammed into our hearts.
