Andrew Fuller Quotes

The highest glory of the creature is in being only a vessel, to receive and enjoy and show forth the glory of God. It can do this only as it is willing to be nothing in itself, that God may be all. Water always fills first the lowest places. The lower, the emptier a man lies before God, the speedier and the fuller will be the inflow of the diving glory.

To wait for someone else, or to expect someone else to make my life richer, or fuller, or more satisfying, puts me in a constant state of suspension. —Kathleen Tierney Andrews, author

Then I made myself as tidy as I could, and went to Andrew Bradford the printer’s. I found in the shop the old man his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who, travelling on horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, who received me civilly, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want a hand, being lately supplied with one; but there was another printer in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me; if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little work to do now and then till fuller business should offer.

The present life is only the introductory part of our existence. It is that however which stamps a character on all that follows.

Instead of waiting for the removal of difficulties, we ought, in many cases, to consider them as purposely laid in our way, in order to try the sincerity of our religion.

His woman. Part of her knew she should object to the wording. She wasn’t his woman. They weren’t together like that. But the heaviness between her legs was blooming into something much fuller and fuck it, she liked the way it sounded on his lips while he pinned her to the railing and publically groped her.

The lower and the emptier a man lays himself before God, the speedier and the fuller will be the inflow of divine glory.

Under the sway of the French, Jaglom, like many of his contemporaries, wanted to do it all: not just act or write, but edit, direct, and produce as well. They didn’t want to be directors for hire by some baboon in the front office with a big, fat cigar; they wanted to be filmmakers or, as the French would have it, auteurs, a term popularized in America by Andrew Sarris in the sixties. Simply put, an auteur was to a film what a poet was to poetry or a painter was to painting. Sarris argued, controversially, that even studio directors such as Howard Hawks, John Ford, and Alfred Hitchcock, or bottom-of-the-bill toilers like Sam Fuller, displayed personal styles, were the sole authors of their pictures, and were therefore authentic artists. Welles, of course, was the very avatar of an auteur.

In her memoir, Expecting Adam, Martha Beck writes, “If you’ll cast your mind back to high school biology, you may remember that a species is defined, in part, by the number of chromosomes in every individual. Adam’s extra chromosome makes him as dissimilar from me as a mule is from a donkey. Adam doesn’t just do less than a ‘normal’ child his age might; he does different things. He has different priorities, different tastes, different insights.” Beck writes of the transformations her son has wrought in her own life. “The immediacy and joy with which he lives his life make rapacious achievement, Harvard-style, look a lot like quiet desperation. Adam has slowed me down to the point where I notice what is in front of me, its mystery and beauty, instead of thrashing my way through a maze of difficult requirements toward labels and achievements that contain no joy in themselves.” Children with Down syndrome tend to retain what the experts call babyfaceness. These children have “a small, concave nose with a sunken bridge, smaller features, larger forehead and shorter chin, and fuller cheeks and rounder chin, resulting in a rounder face.” A recent study found that both the register in which parents speak to their DS child and the variances in pitch resembled the voice patterns parents use to speak to infants and young children.

Restoration Restore us, O LORD God Almighty; make your face shine upon us, that we may be saved. PSALM 80:19 Israel was in great need. Their enemies mocked them, saying that God had forsaken them. Thus the psalmist repeats the cry three times: “Restore us … that we may be saved!” In our present day the enemy rejoices that in spite of our many churches, Christianity seems powerless to overcome the evils of drunkenness, immorality, worldliness, and materialism. God’s children ask, Can nothing be done? Is there no hope of revival? Is God reluctant to lead His people into a fuller, deeper life of victory over sin and all that opposes Christ? Did God not promise that in answer to our prayers He would send His Spirit? Revival and restoration are much needed. And both are possible. God longs for us to claim His promises and exercise our right as members of the royal priesthood (see 1 Peter 2:9). Lord, restore us that we may be saved! Where must such restoration begin? With ourselves! He waits for us to offer ourselves as instruments to be used by the Holy Spirit. He waits for us to separate ourselves from sin and devote ourselves to the witness of the gospel. Christians need to realize and demonstrate that the aim of their life is to serve God and to rescue those for whom Christ shed His blood. Restoration is, in fact, happening wherever God’s people are sacrificing everything to live and work and suffer as Christ did. It avails little to desire a deeper or more abundant life unless your main objective is to witness for Christ and win others for His service.

And yet you have had to complain of disappointment: as time went on, your expectations were not realized. The blessings you once enjoyed were lost; the love and joy of your first meeting with your Savior, instead of deepening, have become faint and feeble. And often you have wondered what the reason could be, that with such a Savior, so mighty and so loving, your experience of salvation should not have been a fuller one. The answer is very simple. You wandered from Him. The blessings He bestows are all connected with His “Come to ME,” and are only to be enjoyed in close fellowship with Himself. You either did not fully understand, or did not rightly remember, that the call meant, “Come to me to stay with me.

Andrew was greeted with the tool of his creation for the first time, and hadn’t seen any other like it. Kevin’s, unlike his last boyfriend’s, was lengthy, but slender, and the longer he stared at it, the faster and fuller it grew.

Andrew Fuller smiled at an opportunity. “Well, I believe we have in our midst a most knowledgeable man on geography...” He turned to look at William. “I believe, sir, the island you speak of is Ceylon,” replied William and lapsed into silence. Andrew Fuller laughed. “Come now, William, don’t hold out on us. Tell us all you know.” “If you wish, sir. Ceylon is a tropical island about half the size of England’s 50,000 square miles. It is true it is controlled by Holland.” William, quickly caught up in the wonders of Ceylon, went on to describe the terrain, the monsoon season, the size of the population and the languages spoken. After several minutes of detail his voice flamed with passion, “But in spite of Dutch control it is not a Christian country. There is no more than a small percent of Christians.” His voice carried indignation now, “The vast majority are Buddhists with a substantial number of Hindus.” At last he cried, “Millions of poor souls lost in heathen darkness! While we do nothing!” “But that’s not true, Brother Carey,” countered one of the others defensively. “We pray for the heathen. We’ve done so, fervently, since our resolution to do so in 1784.” And so the matter stood. The

Next morning at 10 o’clock William had a unique opportunity. For it was he who would deliver the sermon for the meeting. And to the discomfort of many there he preached on Isaiah 54. “‘Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes’!” he exhorted his fellow ministers. Once again he had delivered his message of obligation to convert the heathen. Finally he concluded, “Brothers, expect great things from God. Attempt great things for God.” Young John Ryland looked shaken. “Brother Carey, I think you have proved our negligence in this cause of God.” Bringing John Ryland to the cause was a great step forward. William knew he already had one powerful ally in Andrew Fuller. But at the business meeting later, not only was no money allocated toward a missionary society but not one minister seconded William’s motion to form a society. William slumped in his chair, his mind reeling. “This

William leaped to his feet. “Is nothing going to be done again, sir?” he shouted at Fuller. He faced the ministers. “You are like Moses’ scouts who came back to Kadesh to say, ‘We saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants: and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers...’” “But they lied,” protested one of the ministers. “Perhaps not. Perhaps they allowed their own minds, their own fears, their own doubts, to trick them.” Andrew Fuller seemed shaken. “I move to reopen for business.” “I second the motion,” said William. “All in favor, raise their hand,” said Fuller as he glared at the other ministers. A majority raised their hands!

Apparently Doctor Thomas went to Charles Grant in London,” continued Andrew Fuller, uncharacteristically subdued. “Grant is now one of the Directors of the East India Company. Thomas was refused licenses. Apparently the government is no longer indifferent to missionaries but hostile...

Water always fills first the lowest places. The lower, the emptier a man lies before God, the speedier and the fuller will be the inflow of the divine glory.

from the robust thirty of the year before. The spacious classroom on the second floor of Boston’s towering new Masonic temple, with busts of Plato, Socrates, Shakespeare, and Walter Scott arrayed in its four corners, was beginning to look empty in the weak winter sunlight that filtered through its single enormous Palladian window. The disaster that Elizabeth Peabody predicted hit fast. After volume two of Conversations appeared in February, “Pope” Andrews Norton blasted it as “one third absurd, one third blasphemous, and one third obscene,” and assailed its author as “an ignorant and presuming charlatan,” either “insane or half-witted.” The book was “more indecent and obscene,” a second reviewer charged, “than any other we ever saw exposed for sale on a bookseller’s counter.