A Quote by Lysa TerKeurst

I realize how desperately I need grace, therefore I try to lavishly give it. — © Lysa TerKeurst
I realize how desperately I need grace, therefore I try to lavishly give it.
I give grace because I so desperately need it.
True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
We need spring. We need it desperately, and, usually, we need it before God is willing to give it to us.
I am no longer anxious about anything, as I realize that He is able to carry out His will for me. It does not matter where He places me, or how. That is for Him to consider, not me, for in the easiest positions He will give me grace, and in the most difficult ones His grace is sufficient.
People who know they are not good make the best messengers of grace because they are desperately aware of their own need for it.
There is no such way to get much grace, as to be thankful for a little grace. He who opens his mouth wide in praise, shall have his heart lled with graces. Ingratitude stops the ear of God, and shuts the hand of God, and turns away the heart of the God of grace; and therefore we had need to be thankful for a little grace.
Grace never ignores the awful truth of our depravity; in fact it emphasizes it. The worse we realize we are the greater we realize God's grace.
I realize I will never regain my anonymity but I can certainly give it a try. And it's a lot of fun to give it a try.
We need grace in our lives, and I'm not talking about heavenly grace. I'm talking about human grace. We should try and be warm and friendly.
It is a great truth, " God reigns," and therefore grace reigns through righteousness unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord; and, therefore, no sinner on earth need ever despair.
No sinner has the right to say with impunity, 'God you owe me grace.' If grace is owed, it is not grace. The very essence of grace is its voluntary character. God reserves to himself the sovereign, absolute right to give grace to some and withhold that grace from others.
In the same way that I cannot be perfect and need grace for my mistakes, I also need to give my kids grace. I am constantly learning to be patient with them, understanding that they won't do everything right all the time, while still holding them to a high standard, as their heavenly father does.
Howard University shocked me into realizing how desperately sick the Negro could be, how he could be led into self-destruction, and how he would not realize that it was the society that had forced him into a great sickness.
That’s how we often react when grace comes at us. It’s awkward. God offers us something that’s too good to be true—unearned, unmerited, total forgiveness—and we stand there, stiff and uncomfortable, waiting for the embrace to stop so we can get back to the business of earning our way into heaven. We need to embrace grace. We need to learn how to hug back.
I try desperately to try and figure out how they'd react to different scenarios. That's part of what the DM's job is: to try and know their players well enough to where they can build encounters, challenges, and be like, 'I think they would do this in this scenario, so I will go ahead and prepare a few options based on this.'
My approach with actors is to try and give them whatever it is they need from me. Direction to me is about listening and responding and realizing how much they need to know from me and how much they have figured out for themselves, really.
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