Evidence Of Things Unseen Quotes

Whenever I began to question whether God exists, I looked up to the sky and surely there, right there, between the sun and moon, stands my grandmother, singing a long meter hymn, a song somewhere between a moan and a lullaby and I know faith is the evidence of things unseen. And all I have to do is continue trying to be a Christian.

It takes the trust of God for things that exist, to wait on him for the evidence of things that do not exist. Faith and hope make you to thank God for the invisible things by looking at the visible things which were once invisible too.

The future is the one thing you can count on not abandoning you, kid, he’d said. The future will always finds you. Stand still, and it will find you. The way the land just has run to sea.

Wherever love comes from, whatever is its genesis, it isn’t like a quantity of gold or diamonds, even water in the earth-a fixed quantity, Fos thought. You can’t use up love, deplete it at its source. Love exists beyond fixed limits. Beyond what you can see or count.

I think what you can’t see is always what you should be frightened of.

Maybe there are moments between any two adults in love when the age of one of them dissolves before the other's eyes, when the first refuge of the soul at its creation is laid bare and skinless as a sunbeam through a window. Innocence and vulnerability, two unmeasurable quantities...Perhaps that is the essence of the protection's intimacy, that it dwells in camouflage and justifies itself in stillness.

We wait upon finite minds to validate infinite things— this is evidence of human stupidity.

It makes you wonder. How much you can know about a thing, a person. If you can know anything at all. Maybe no one’s who we think they are. No one. Makes you doubt yourself, wonder if you even know yourself or if you’ve been lyin, too, along with everybody else.

Even as the roots, shut in the darksome earth, Share in the tree-top's joyance, and conceive Of sunshine and wide air and winged things, By sympathy of nature, so do I gave evidence of things unseen.

Because way back before you were even born there was this girl you see. And I fell in love with her. It was something that I wanted-love-not because it was expected of me, but because I found it out my self-that happiness of wanting to be with that other person.

What being in the War and being in the Army had shown him was that people tend naturally toward light, toward its source, as sunflowers do in a field. People lean, either in their dreams or in their actions, toward that place where they suspect their inner lights are coming from. Whether they call it God or conscience or the manual of Army protocol, people sublime toward where their inner fire burns, and given enough fuel for thought and a level playing field to dream on, anyone can leave a fingerprint on the blank of history. That's what Fos believed.

It's not how long it glows. It's not how long the light lasts. It's what it says while it's still visible.

I know that every atom of life in all this universe is bound up together. I know that pebble cannot be thrown into the ocean without distrubing every drop of water in the sea. I know that every life is inextricably mixed and woven with every other life. I know that every influence, conscious and unconscious, acts and reacts on every living organism, and that no one can fix the blame. I know that all life is a series of infinite chances, which sometimes result one way and sometimes another. I have not the infinite wisdom that can fathom it, neither has any other human brain. But I do know that in back of it is a power that made it, that power alone can tell, and if there is no power, then it is an infinite chance which man cannot solve.

Because this painting has never been restored there is a heightened poignance to it somehow; it doesn’t have the feeling of unassailable permanence that paintings in museums do. There is a small crack in the lower left, and a little of the priming between the wooden panel and the oil emulsions of paint has been bared. A bit of abrasion shows, at the rim of a bowl of berries, evidence of time’s power even over this—which, paradoxically, only seems to increase its poetry, its deep resonance. If you could see the notes of a cello, when the bow draws slowly and deeply across its strings, and those resonant reverberations which of all instruments’ are nearest to the sound of the human voice emerge—no, the wrong verb, they seem to come into being all at once, to surround us, suddenly, with presence—if that were made visible, that would be the poetry of Osias Beert. But the still life resides in absolute silence. Portraits often seem pregnant with speech, or as if their subjects have just finished saying something, or will soon speak the thoughts that inform their faces, the thoughts we’re invited to read. Landscapes are full of presences, visible or unseen; soon nymphs or a stag or a band of hikers will make themselves heard. But no word will ever be spoken here, among the flowers and snails, the solid and dependable apples, this heap of rumpled books, this pewter plate on which a few opened oysters lie, giving up their silver. These are resolutely still, immutable, poised for a forward movement that will never occur. The brink upon which still life rests is the brink of time, the edge of something about to happen. Everything that we know crosses this lip, over and over, like water over the edge of a fall, as what might happen does, as any of the endless variations of what might come true does so, and things fall into being, tumble through the progression of existing in time. Painting creates silence. You could examine the objects themselves, the actors in a Dutch still life—this knobbed beaker, this pewter salver, this knife—and, lovely as all antique utilitarian objects are, they are not, would not be, poised on the edge these same things inhabit when they are represented. These things exist—if indeed they are still around at all—in time. It is the act of painting them that makes them perennially poised, an emergent truth about to be articulated, a word waiting to be spoken. Single word that has been forming all these years in the light on the knife’s pearl handle, in the drops of moisture on nearly translucent grapes: At the end of time, will that word be said?

The sight of Fos and Opal coming down the street together absolutely tickled him. The idea of two such strangely unremarkable yet lovable people could have found and met each other reaffirmed his waning faith in anything remotely optimistic about mankind and seemed to be a more convincing proof than all the gospel shit flown from the pulpits of Knox County that life could, in fact, distribute happy endings.

Her father...was all front to back in his transparency: what you saw was what there was, there was nothing clandestine in his character, and those few aspects that were disguised or hidden were that way because they were his closely kept emotions. When on those rare occasions he allowed his emotions to be seen, their appearance was all the more surprising. And more powerful. Which taught her early on a thing or two about the power of what's visible -- it derives its mystery from what it hides. How many stories had she heard of people sensing ghosts behind the walls, hobgoblins in the woods? People living on the shores of lakes since time began have conjured creatures from those depths. If you believe a thing is something different from the evidence before you, if you believe something is hidden by the wall or in the woods or beneath the surface of the lake, then that belief gives power to the darkness and the depths -- power to enchant; to terrify.

What if that were true? Was that so bad? To have created love like that out of absolutely nothing—it was a sort of miracle, wasn't it? To have set that kind of example for their son—for Flash—for everyone who saw them fumbling along together, walking, talking, marveling at life. It was a kind of glory, if he thought about it, he realized. A common uncontested outright glory for mankind, he thought. Like each and every unnamed, uncontested, unsung star up there, coupling with the dark for us to contemplate in silence.

Everything is difficult at first—the bow is hard to draw and the naginata is awkward to flail. Whatever the weapon, you learn to draw a strong bow as your strength increases for the task, and a sword becomes easier to swing as you become attuned to it through training. The discipline of the sword is not predicated on swiftness in the strike. I will explain this next in the Water Scroll. The basic principle to remember in this Way is that the long sword is employed in open areas and the short sword in confined spaces. In my school, victory must be attainable equally with both long and short weapons. That is why I have no established length for the swords we use. The Way of my school is to win no matter what. The time when it is better to utilize two swords instead of one becomes evident when fighting single-handedly against multiple foes or when you are battling in an enclosed space. I will refrain from explaining this in detail here. Suffice to say, you need to understand ten thousand things by knowing just one thing well. When you practice the Way of combat strategy, let nothing go unseen. Reflect on this closely.

Similarly, we look for echoes from the tenth and eleventh dimension. Perhaps evidence for string theory is hidden all around us, but we have to listen for its echoes, rather than try to observe it directly. For example, one possible signal from hyperspace is the existence of dark matter. Until recently, it was widely believed that the universe is mainly made of atoms. Astronomers have been shocked to find that only 4.9 percent of the universe is made of atoms like hydrogen and helium. Actually, most of the universe is hidden from us, in the form of dark matter and dark energy. (We recall that dark matter and dark energy are two distinct things. Twenty-six point eight percent of the universe is made of dark matter, which is invisible matter that surrounds the galaxies and keep them from flying apart. And 68.3 percent of the universe is made of dark energy, which is even more mysterious, the energy of empty space that is driving the galaxies apart.) Perhaps evidence for the theory of everything lies hidden in this invisible universe. Search for Dark Matter Dark matter is strange, it is invisible, yet it holds the Milky Way galaxy together. But since it has weight and no charge, if you tried to hold dark matter in your hand it would sift through your fingers as if they weren’t there. It would fall right through the floor, through the core of the Earth, and then to the other side of the Earth, where gravity would eventually cause it to reverse course and fall back to your location. It would then oscillate between you and the other side of the planet, as if the Earth weren’t there. As strange as dark matter is, we know it must exist. If we analyze the spin of the Milky Way galaxy and use Newton’s laws, we find that there is not enough mass to counteract the centrifugal force. Given the amount of mass we see, the galaxies in the universe should be unstable and they should fly apart, but they have been stable for billions of years. So we have two choices: either Newton’s equations are incorrect when applied to galaxies, or else there is an unseen object that is keeping the galaxies intact. (We recall that the planet Neptune was found in the same way, by postulating a new planet that explained Uranus’s deviations from a perfect ellipse.) At present, one leading candidate for dark matter is called the weakly interacting massive particles (WIMPs). Among them, one likely possibility is the photino, the supersymmetric partner of the photon. The photino is stable, has mass, is invisible, and has no charge, which fits precisely the characteristics of dark matter. Physicists believe the Earth moves in an invisible wind of dark matter that is probably passing through your body right now. If a photino collides with a proton, it may cause the proton to shatter into a shower of subatomic particles that can then be detected.

For what is known of God is evident among them: for God revealed Himself to them. 20. For the unseen things, both His eternal power and divine authority, from His creation of the world, are seen clearly, being understood by His works. so they are without excuse. 21. Because, although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God or give thanks, but their thoughts became directed to worthless things and their foolish hearts and minds became covered in darkness. 22. Although they claim to be wise they were made foolish

[Twofold sanctification reached by twofold faith] [By faith . . . Heb. 11:1] Faith is the evidence of things not seen, though now actually existing [upon salvation], the substance of things hoped for, but not yet present. [progressive] It deals with the unseen present, as well as with the unseen future. [. . .] Faith is the eye of the soul: the power by which we discern the presence of the Unseen One, as He comes to give Himself to us. [. . .] And we shall understand how simple, to do the single-hearted, is the secret of holiness: just Jesus. Let us remember that it is not only the faith that is dealing specially with Christ for sanctification, but all living faith, that has the power to sanctify. Anything that casts the soul wholly on Jesus, that calls forth intense and simple trust, be it the trial of faith, or the prayer of faith, or the work of faith, helps to make us holy, because it brings us into living contact with the Holy One. [. . .] [F]aith is the impression God makes on the soul when He draws nigh. [. . .] As long as the believer is living the mixed life, part in the flesh and part in the spirit, with some of self and some of Christ, he seeks in vain for holiness. It is the New Life that is the holy life: the full apprehension of it in faith, the full surrender to it in conduct, will be the highway of holiness. [. . .] It is out of the grave of the flesh and the will of self that the Spirit of holiness breaks out in resurrection power. [. . .] The life of Christ is the holiness of Christ. The reason we so often fail in the pursuit of holiness is that the old life, the flesh, in its own strength seeks for holiness as a beautiful garment to wear and enter heaven with. It is the daily death to self out of which the life of Christ rises up.

Hebrews 11:1," says Mr. Taylor. "The substance of faith is a hope in the unseen." "NO. Wrong-you messed it!" Cedric laughs. "It goes: 'Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.' Man, Mr. Taylor, you always getting 'em wrong." Mr. Taylor howls, "All right, extra point for you," but, as usual, he wrestles the boy back to middle ground, thwarting an outright victory, "The Word, of course, is the Word my young friend. But make it into what's right for you. That's the lesson for today. Take from the Holy Scripture only what you need, nothing more.

THE MIRACLE WORKER Jesus said to them, “I have shown you many great miracles from the Father.” John 10:32 NIV God is a miracle worker. Throughout history He has intervened in the course of human events in ways that cannot be explained by science or human rationale. And He’s still doing so today. God’s miracles are not limited to special occasions, nor are they witnessed by a select few. God is crafting His wonders all around us: the miracle of the birth of a new baby; the miracle of a world renewing itself with every sunrise; the miracle of lives transformed by God’s love and grace. Each day, God’s handiwork is evident for all to see and experience. Today, seize the opportunity to inspect God’s hand at work. His miracles come in a variety of shapes and sizes, so keep your eyes and your heart open. Be watchful, and you’ll soon be amazed. There is Someone who makes possible what seems completely impossible. Catherine Marshall Faith means believing in realities that go beyond sense and sight. It is the awareness of unseen divine realities all around you. Joni Eareckson Tada A TIMELY TIP God is in the business of doing miraculous things. You should never be afraid to ask Him for a miracle.

Faith in oneself, which asks no man's help but quietly and alone appropriates the consciousness of the quality desired and—in spite of reason or the evidence of his senses to the contrary—continues faithful—patiently waiting in the knowledge that his unseen claim if sustained must be realised—such faith develops a courage and strength of character that are beyond the wildest dreams of the undisciplined man whose faith is in things unseen.

God is faithful. Don’t let a lack of evidence convince you that nothing is happening. In the unseen realm, things are changing in your favor. Forces that have stopped you in the past have been broken.

It’s like one big lending library out there. A piece of what was once a star or something, a flower or a willow tree, when it is finished bein’ that might be loaned away an’ become a fish or a person’s fingernail or evaporate into the sky and be a rainbow. That the—what did he call ’em?—stuff that makes your atoms up an’ mine, that stuff mixed up a little different is the sum of all the stuff that’s in existence.

Frost came behind the rain, and the resulting scene across the fields was a ponded desecration, frozen like a photograph of ruin, an upheaval painted with the hues of autumn which had bled to mud.

Youth never sees its shadow till the sun’s about to set: and then you wonder where the person went who you were speaking to in all your thoughts for all those years.

because light travels to us over distance, everything we see is an illusion. And that the whole purpose of existence is to cut the distance between the source of the illusion and our perception of it. And if we can do that, then we can see that every particle of matter is the same.

Life is a series of collisions, for fucksake. It’s not a narrative experience.

when Flash started to speak about love the word floated in the same sort of way, only closer in and brighter and with far more mystery, but also with the smell of eggs, and other men, and beer.

Things happen, he believed, and there’s nothing you can do to keep them from occurring without taking out the magic spark plug, the genius of invention that ignited the adventure in the first place.

Most people have a perceptual tripwire which registers the trespass of another’s focused interest.

Belief in things unseen is one thing; belief in things without evidence is another. And this latter kind of belief has a problem: How do you know what to believe? If God reveals Himself to us, but we have no empirical way of verifying that revelation, how do we know if that revelation is correct?

But the truth is, most of the things that change the course of our lives happen in fleeting unguarded moments; grief buckling us at the knees; fear shattering through us like buckshot; love pulling us out on an unseen tide. And finding ourselves in the grip of these overpowering emotions, we then invent reasons based on the flimsy evidence we have accrued why they have happened, trying to make sense of the insensible with armloads of self-justification