“I had a problem with commitment. I was afraid to proclaim that I had found Jesus, been saved, boarded the boat bound for eternal life. I figured it wasn't something I could announce one week and then a month or two later admit, "Oh yeah, sorry, people. That was my Jesus phase. I'm into transcendental meditation now.”

“I had a problem with commitment. I was afraid to proclaim that I had found Jesus, been saved, boarded the boat bound for eternal life. I figured it wasn't something I could announce one week and then a month or two later admit, "Oh yeah, sorry, people. That was my Jesus phase. I'm into transcendental meditation now.”

“I had a problem with commitment. I was afraid to proclaim that I had found Jesus, been saved, boarded the boat bound for eternal life. I figured it wasn't something I could announce one week and then a month or two later admit, "Oh yeah, sorry, people. That was my Jesus phase. I'm into transcendental meditation now.”

“Frankly, I even worried about the fact that I was so worried. Worrying about the strength of my faith—how it stood up to others'—didn’t seem to be a healthy sign. I mean, didn't worrying about faith defeat the whole point of faith? Weren't we supposed to just "let go and let God"? I didn't "let go and let God" very well. I worried about that.”

“After twenty years of unbelief, doubt had become a habit. Doubting was easy, routine; it was my natural, instinctive reaction. Somewhere along the line I had stopped considering any other options. Doubt was my default. So choosing the blessing, the miracle, over coincidence had to be a conscious choice. I had to dismiss doubt as the crutch that it was, dismiss my gut instinct and embrace the more challenging alternative.”

“Grace does not make sense. It's not supposed to make sense. Grace cannot be calculated or formulated, earned or even rewarded for a job well done. Grace is a gift, not a salary.”