Amen Corner Quotes

Merger Evers/John F. Kennedy/Malcolm X/Martin Luther King/Robert Kennedy/Che Guevara/Patrice Lamumba/George Jackson/Cynthia Wesley/Addie Mae Collins/Denise McNair/Carole Robertson/Viola Liuzzo It was a decade marked by death. Violent and inevitable. Funerals became engraved on the brain, intensifying the ephemeral nature of life. For many in the South it was a decade reminiscent of earlier times, when oak trees sighed over their burdens in the wind; Spanish moss draggled blood to the ground; amen corners creaked with grief; and the thrill of being able, once again, to endure unendurable loss produced so profound an ecstasy in mourners that they strutted, without noticing their feet, along the thin backs of benches: their piercing shouts of anguish and joy never interrupted by an inglorious fall. They shared rituals for the dead to be remembered.

Spanish moss draggled bloody to the ground; amen corners creaked with grief; and the thrill of being able, once again, to endure unendurable loss produced so profound an ecstasy in mourners that they strutted, without noticing their feet, along the thin backs of benches: their piercing shouts of anguish and joy never interrupted by an inglorious fall.

Nodding at everyone, there not being one person they didn’t know, they sat at a corner table. Both ordered the special: chicken-fried steak, mash and gravy, turnips, and coleslaw. Biscuits. Pecan pie with ice cream. At the next table, a family of four joined hands and lowered their heads as the father said a blessing out loud. At “Amen” they kissed the air, squeezed hands, and passed the cornbread.

I'm too tired to cook, and I reckon you are, too. Let's grab some grub at the diner on the way home." Nodding at everyone, there not being one person they didn’t know, they sat at a corner table. Both ordered the special: chicken-fried steak, mash and gravy, turnips, and coleslaw. Biscuits. Pecan pie with ice cream. At the next table, a family of four joined hands and lowered their heads as the father said a blessing out loud. At “Amen” they kissed the air, squeezed hands, and passed the cornbread.

When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus. When Jesus saw their faith, he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” —LUKE 5:19–20 OUR WORLD IS full of people in need. This man’s friends cared enough about him and his needs to bring him to the one person they knew of who could help their friend. They cared so much about him they would not be deterred when they couldn’t get in the door; they figured out a way to get to Jesus. There are a lot of people who are just like this paralytic—and we need to be a friend who will grab a corner of a mat and get them to Jesus, whatever the cost. Jesus is still the great physician and is still in the healing business, both physically and spiritually! Prayer Lord, help me to be a friend who is willing to do what it takes to bring people to You and to care for the people in need all around me. Help me have a faith that makes a difference. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Jesus lived His Amen, Abba! so completely, so thoroughly, so perfectly that He fulfilled it. He identified with it. He is the response of Yes, Father! He fills yes to its farthest corners. There is no part of yes, no yes anywhere that He did not reach in His yes on the cross. Therefore, to the extent that I enter into Yes, Father, it is no longer I, but He in me, that lives unto God.

God bless the corners of this house, and be the lintel blest, and bless the hearth and bless the board and bless each place of rest, and bless each door that opens wide to stranger as to kin. And bless each crystal window pane that lets the starlight in, and bless the rooftree overhead and every sturdy wall. The peace of man, the peace of God, the peace of love on all. Amen.

Wisdom comes from knowing God and understanding His will for our lives. The Holy Spirit assists us in our quest for wisdom by enabling us to view the world as God perceives it. From an early age we can seek God's wisdom. We don't have to wait until we are old to figure out this puzzle of life. In Psalm 111:10 we read, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; a good understanding have all those who do His commandments; His praise endures forever." Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today. A wasted lifetime is a shame. Go to the cross of Jesus and trust Him with the simplicity of childlike faith. PRAYER Father God, I don't want to wait until I'm very old to exhibit Your traits of wisdom. I want a whole life of trusting You and Your Word. May I also be able to transmit this desire to my family. Bless me as I put my faith into Your hands. Amen. HEART ACTION Decide what you need help with today. Give that specifically to God. And allow yourself to ask for help from others. It's a big step but an important one. Your chance to help someone else will be just around the corner. Learn to receive and give with great faith. Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom. THEODORE RUBIN

Three things happened in 1945. Daddy went missing, Annie started wetting the bed, and the Lester girl sang about Hitler in the middle of Sunday service.

In times when “truth” seems like a commodity peddled on every street corner, we need to grasp the power of the foundation we have in Scripture. While many readers will say “yes” and “amen” to this, the sad truth is that Bible reading is low even among those who frequently attend church. A 2015 study by LifeWay Research found that only 45 percent of people who attend church regularly read the Bible more than once a week. More than 40 percent of church attenders read their Bibles occasionally, about once or twice a month. Almost one in five churchgoers say they never read the Bible, which is about the same number as those who read it every day.[18]

Elvis starts to sing “Viva Las Vegas” as Sam and I walk side by side down the aisle. I cover my mouth and laugh. “I want you to repeat after me, Sam,” Elvis says. He lifts one corner of his lip in that classic snarl. “I, Sam, promise you, Peck, never to step on your blue suede shoes. I promise never to leave you at Heartbreak Hotel. I promise to be your hunka-hunka burning love, forever and ever, amen.” “Wait,” Sam says. “That’s Randy Travis. Not Elvis.” “Close enough,” Elvis says. Sam rolls his hips like Elvis did when he repeats the words. I can’t stop laughing. I laugh so hard that I have to wipe tears from my eyes. But I don’t feel bad, because Emily is doing the same thing. And the rest of the brothers and their wives are laughing it up too. “Now you, Peck,” Elvis says. He swivels his hips and someone does a rim shot on a set of drums. “I, Peck, solemnly swear to love you tender for the rest of my life, and never leave you with a suspicious mind.” I repeat the words. I barely stutter, and it warms my heart when I realize that. Suddenly, Elvis gets serious. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” Sam’s eyes meet mine, and he takes my hands. I pass my flowers to one of my sisters and look up at him. We recite the official vows, and I have to blink hard to get through them, particularly when I look at the TV screen and see Marta crying into her handkerchief. “Who gives this woman to be married?” Elvis asks. Emilio’s voice rings out. “Her mother and I.” This time, a hot tear tracks down my cheek and Sam very gently wipes it away. “You okay?” he whispers. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Elvis declares. “Now let’s have a little less conversation and a really big kiss.” He swivels his hips again and I laugh through my tears. Sam

Elvis starts to sing “Viva Las Vegas” as Sam and I walk side by side down the aisle. I cover my mouth and laugh. “I want you to repeat after me, Sam,” Elvis says. He lifts one corner of his lip in that classic snarl. “I, Sam, promise you, Peck, never to step on your blue suede shoes. I promise never to leave you at Heartbreak Hotel. I promise to be your hunka-hunka burning love, forever and ever, amen.” “Wait,” Sam says. “That’s Randy Travis. Not Elvis.” “Close enough,” Elvis says. Sam rolls his hips like Elvis did when he repeats the words. I can’t stop laughing. I laugh so hard that I have to wipe tears from my eyes. But I don’t feel bad, because Emily is doing the same thing. And the rest of the brothers and their wives are laughing it up too. “Now you, Peck,” Elvis says. He swivels his hips and someone does a rim shot on a set of drums. “I, Peck, solemnly swear to love you tender for the rest of my life, and never leave you with a suspicious mind.” I

Breathing is not the process of being filled and emptied: breathing is the act of actually making love to the whole world, which is to say the world is your lover, which is to say love the whole world, in all sweaty folds and scabbed pockmarks, which is to say love your dirty corners, your stalk-like legs and barrel hips, love all the no and the no and the no that brought you rigth here, to this moment and love the yes. The yes: the breath that found its way to you, built a home in your blood cells, changed itself to better suit you and for it, tonight, you say: I was made to breathe and move and give, which is to say love. Love. I was made to love.

Buchanan infamously quipped: “There are only two groups that are beating the drums for war in the Middle East-the Israeli Defense Ministry and its amen corner in the United States.

Will’s mouth quirked up at both corners. “Miss Gray,” he said, “would you be amenable to attending a ball with me?

And those are the people we don’t like,” Julia said. “The enemy of the socialist future. Which is just around the corner, isn’t it, sweetie? And always will be, forever and forever, amen. God forbid we should ever achieve some kind of prelapsarian utopia on earth because then you would have to live your life instead of just complaining about it.

And Jesus cast demons out of several of you.” “I was blind and mute by a demon,” said a man, who was obviously seeing clearly and speaking freely. Demas thought, A demon or your own captivating fears and madness? Peter’s mother-in-law added, “And there were those tormented by long maladies.” She pointed at a middle-aged woman. “Sarah, you had an issue of blood for twelve years.” Sarah spoke out, “Yes! I simply touched his garment and I was made well.” Peter’s mother-in-law continued, looking at two men in the corner. “And Josiah and Daniel. We all know you were blind until a week ago.” More amens where whispered.

The place to take the true measure of a man is not in the darkest place or in the amen corner, nor the cornfield, but by his own fireside. There he lays aside his mask and you may learn whether he is an imp or an angel, cur or king, hero or humbug. I care not what the world says of him: whether it crowns him boss or pelts him with bad eggs. I care not a copper what his reputation or religion may be: if his babies dread his homecoming and his better half swallows her heart every time she has to ask him for a five-dollar bill, he is a fraud of the first water, even though he prays night and morning until he is black in the face. But if his children rush to the front door to meet him and love's sunshine illuminates the face of his wife every time she hears his footfall, you can take it for granted that he is pure, for his home is a heaven. I can forgive much in that fellow mortal who would rather make men swear than women weep; who would rather have the hate of the whole world than the contempt of his wife; who would rather call anger to the eyes of a king than fear to the face of a child (W. C. Brann, “A Man’s Real Measure,” in Elbert Hubbard’s Scrapbook, New York: Wm. H. Wise and Co., 1923, p. 16)

The oppressive heat and humidity of this place hadn’t changed since that first visit. As Lidia stepped inside after Rigelus, it once again pushed with damp fingers on her face, her neck. The hall stretched ahead, the one thousand sunken tubs in the stone floor shining with pale light that illuminated the bodies floating within. Masks and tubes and machines hummed and hissed; salt crusted the stones between the tanks, some sections piled thick with it. And before the machines, already bowing at the waist to Rigelus … A withered humanoid form, veiled and dressed in gray robes, the material gauzy enough to reveal the bony body beneath, stood at the massive desk at the entrance of the room. The Mistress of the Mystics. If she had a name, Lidia had never heard it uttered. Above her veiled head, a hologram of images spun, stars and planets whizzing by. Every constellation and galaxy the mystics now searched for Bryce Quinlan. How many corners of the universe remained? That wasn’t Lidia’s concern—not today. Not as Rigelus said, “I have need of Irithys.” The mistress lifted her head, but her body remained stooped with age, so thin the knobs of her spine jutted from beneath her gauzy robe. “The queen has been sullen, Your Brilliance. I fear she will not be amenable to your requests.