Expose Good Morning Quotes

Most churches do not grow beyond the spiritual health of their leadership. Many churches have a pastor who is trying to lead people to a Savior he has yet to personally encounter. If spiritual gifting is no proof of authentic faith, then certainly a job title isn't either. You must have a clear sense of calling before you enter ministry. Being a called man is a lonely job, and many times you feel like God has abandoned you in your ministry. Ministry is more than hard. Ministry is impossible. And unless we have a fire inside our bones compelling us, we simply will not survive. Pastoral ministry is a calling, not a career. It is not a job you pursue. If you don’t think demons are real, try planting a church! You won’t get very far in advancing God’s kingdom without feeling resistance from the enemy. If I fail to spend two hours in prayer each morning, the devil gets the victory through the day. Once a month I get away for the day, once a quarter I try to get out for two days, and once a year I try to get away for a week. The purpose of these times is rest, relaxation, and solitude with God. A pastor must always be fearless before his critics and fearful before his God. Let us tremble at the thought of neglecting the sheep. Remember that when Christ judges us, he will judge us with a special degree of strictness. The only way you will endure in ministry is if you determine to do so through the prevailing power of the Holy Spirit. The unsexy reality of the pastorate is that it involves hard work—the heavy-lifting, curse-ridden, unyielding employment of your whole person for the sake of the church. Pastoral ministry requires dogged, unyielding determination, and determination can only come from one source—God himself. Passive staff members must be motivated. Erring elders and deacons must be confronted. Divisive church members must be rebuked. Nobody enjoys doing such things (if you do, you should be not be a pastor!), but they are necessary in order to have a healthy church over the long haul. If you allow passivity, laziness, and sin to fester, you will soon despise the church you pastor. From the beginning of sacred Scripture (Gen. 2:17) to the end (Rev. 21:8), the penalty for sin is death. Therefore, if we sin, we should die. But it is Jesus, the sinless one, who dies in our place for our sins. The good news of the gospel is that Jesus died to take to himself the penalty of our sin. The Bible is not Christ-centered because it is generally about Jesus. It is Christ-centered because the Bible’s primary purpose, from beginning to end, is to point us toward the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus for the salvation and sanctification of sinners. Christ-centered preaching goes much further than merely providing suggestions for how to live; it points us to the very source of life and wisdom and explains how and why we have access to him. Felt needs are set into the context of the gospel, so that the Christian message is not reduced to making us feel better about ourselves. If you do not know how sinful you are, you feel no need of salvation. Sin-exposing preaching helps people come face-to-face with their sin and their great need for a Savior. We can worship in heaven, and we can talk to God in heaven, and we can read our Bibles in heaven, but we can’t share the gospel with our lost friends in heaven. “Would your city weep if your church did not exist?” It was crystal-clear for me. Somehow, through fear or insecurity, I had let my dreams for our church shrink. I had stopped thinking about the limitless things God could do and had been distracted by my own limitations. I prayed right there that God would forgive me of my small-mindedness. I asked God to forgive my lack of faith that God could use a man like me to bring the message of the gospel through our missionary church to our lost city. I begged God to renew my heart and mind with a vision for our city that was more like Christ's.

I highly recommend re-reading good personal development books. Rarely can we read a book once and internalized all of the value from that book. Achieving mastery in any area requires repetition—being exposed to certain ideas, strategies, or techniques over and over again, until they become ingrained in your subconscious mind.

And expose war. And the old My-Country-'Tis-of' Thee lie. And the colored American Legion posts strutting around talking about the privilege of dying for the noble Red, White, and Blue, when they aren't even permitted the privilege of living for it. Or voting for it in Texas. Or working for it in the diplomatic service. Or even rising, like every other good little boy, from the log cabin to the White House. White House is right.

Excerpt from Forehead Kisses: "I woke to the sizzle and smell of bacon, fresh brewed coffee, and the soft patter of rain on the window. Cooper was nowhere to be seen. My clock radio read 7:35 a.m. I rolled over on my stomach and just laid quietly in bed absorbing the sweet sounds and smells. About 10 minutes later I heard Cooper come into the room. I felt the bed rock as he kneeled on and crawled across it, ultimately straddling my body. He pulled the sheet down exposing my naked back. He placed gentle, wet kisses down my spine, “Good morning Beautiful.

One morning, when she was in bed with Harry in his hotel room, he tapped Faith lightly on the nose and said, “You’ve got a big honker, don’t you. But you’re so sexy, you can carry it.” She said nothing. It h rut her, not because it was untrue—she did have a strong nose, and it did look pretty good on her. It hurt her because she had been lying relaxed with him, similar to the way her childhood dog Lucky would sometimes lie in deep sleep on her back, paws up and dipped at the wrist. Her dog, lying like that, was happy in her dogfish openness. Which, Faith thought, was all she herself really wanted when she went to bed with someone. To lie exposed and free and unself-conscious.

I highly recommend re-reading good personal development books. Rarely can we read a book once and internalize all of the value from that book. Achieving mastery in any area requires repetition—being exposed to certain ideas, strategies, or techniques over and over again, until they become engrained in your subconscious mind. For example, if you wanted to master karate, you wouldn’t learn the techniques once and then think, “I got this.” No, you’d learn the techniques, practice them, then go back to your sensei and learn them again, and repeat the process hundreds of times in order to master a single technique. Mastering techniques to improve your life works the same way. There is more value in re-reading a book you already know has strategies that can improve your life than there is in reading a new book before you’ve mastered the strategies in the first.

Our freedom does not lie outside us, but within us. One can be bound outside, and yet one will still feel free since one has burst inner bonds. One can certainly gain outer freedom through powerful actions, but one creates inner freedom only through the symbol. The symbol is the word that goes out of the mouth, that one does not simply speak, but that rises out of the depths of the self as a word of power and great need and places itself unexpectedly on the tongue. It is an astonishing and perhaps seemingly irrational word, but one recognizes it as a symbol since it is alien to the conscious mind. If one accepts the symbol, it is as if a door opens leading into a new room whose existence one previously did not know. But if one does not accept the symbol, it is as if one carelessly went past this door; and since this was the only door leading to the inner chambers, one must pass outside into the streets again, exposed to everything external. But the soul suffers great need, since outer freedom is of no use to it. Salvation is a long road that leads through many gates. These gates are symbols. Each new gate is at first invisible; indeed, it seems at first that it must be created, for it exists only if one has dug up the spring’s root. To find the mandrake, one needs the black dog, since good and bad must always be united first if the symbol is to be created. The symbol can be neither thought up nor found: it becomes. Its becoming is like the becoming of human life in the womb. Pregnancy comes about through voluntary copulation. It goes on through willing attention. But if the depths have conceived, then the symbol grows out of itself and is born from the mind, as befits a God. But in the same way a mother would like to throw herself on the child like a monster and devour it again. In the morning, when the new sun rises, the word steps out of my mouth, but is murdered lovelessly, since I did not know that it was the saviour. The newborn child grows quickly, if I accept it. And immediately it becomes my charioteer. The word is the guide, the middle way which easily oscillates like the needle on the scales. The word is the God that rises out of the waters each morning and proclaims the guiding law to the people. Outer laws and outer wisdom are eternally insufficient, since there is only one law and one wisdom, namely my daily law, my daily wisdom. The God renews himself each night.

This Compost" Something startles me where I thought I was safest, I withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me. O how can it be that the ground itself does not sicken? How can you be alive you growths of spring? How can you furnish health you blood of herbs, roots, orchards, grain? Are they not continually putting distemper'd corpses within you? Is not every continent work'd over and over with sour dead? Where have you disposed of their carcasses? Those drunkards and gluttons of so many generations? Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat? I do not see any of it upon you to-day, or perhaps I am deceiv'd, I will run a furrow with my plough, I will press my spade through the sod and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat. 2 Behold this compost! behold it well! Perhaps every mite has once form'd part of a sick person—yet behold! The grass of spring covers the prairies, The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden, The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward, The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches, The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves, The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree, The he-birds carol mornings and evenings while the she-birds sit on their nests, The young of poultry break through the hatch'd eggs, The new-born of animals appear, the calf is dropt from the cow, the colt from the mare, Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato's dark green leaves, Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk, the lilacs bloom in the dooryards, The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strata of sour dead. What chemistry! That the winds are really not infectious, That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues, That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited themselves in it, That all is clean forever and forever, That the cool drink from the well tastes so good, That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy, That the fruits of the apple-orchard and the orange-orchard, that melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me, That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease, Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once a catching disease. Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions, It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions of diseas'd corpses, It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor, It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops, It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last.

APRIL 14 You can rest in God’s care. If he freely offered up his Son for you, will he forget you now? It is the irrefutable and comforting logic of redemption, so powerfully captured by Paul in Romans 8:31–39: What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Now, it simply defies redemptive logic to allow yourself at any moment in your life to think that God would go to the extent that he has gone to provide you with salvation and then lose you along the way. If he controlled nature and history so that at the right time Jesus came to live, die, and rise again on your behalf; if he worked by grace to expose you to the truth and gave you the heart to believe; and if he now works to bring the events of the universe to a final glorious conclusion, does it make any sense to think that he would fail to provide you with everything you need between your conversion and your final resurrection? Paul is arguing that God’s gift of and sacrifice of his Son is your guarantee that he will grace you with every good thing you need until you are finally free of this broken world and with him forever in eternity. You do not have to wonder about God’s presence or his care. You do not have to fear that he will leave you on your own. You do not have to wonder if he will be there for you in your moment of need. When you give way to these fears, you commit an act of gospel irrationality. If he gave you Jesus, he will give you along with him everything you need.

From the shameful part, I meditated on receiving and getting connected with the true self’s assurance and understanding. I was able to direct my true self to ask this trait if it needed anything else and how it wanted to release the degradation it held in. It wanted the disgraceful memories erased, as well as removing the chill and sickness in its gut when they flashed instinctively and uncontrollably in its mind. It sought to have all the unmanageable sexual images of its imagination controlled and reprogrammed with normal thoughts. It wanted to feel like it was not a consenting party to the abnormal sexual perversions that were forced upon a young child. The shameful part within me wanted reassurance that the creature I thought I had become was the result of a young mind being molded from wickedness thrust upon it during peak developmental years. It wanted to stop having to always look over its shoulder thinking it had done something wrong. It wanted to wake up in the morning at peace, not immediately expecting the worst. The shame within wanted to stop feeling like bad things were going to happen in life because it was not a good person. It wanted to feel it deserved to be happy and worthy of receiving the good things of this life. After relinquishing all the burdens of the shameful part and communicating what it wanted from the true self, I continued meditating on the connection of the true self’s understanding and the shameful part’s acceptance of that understanding. I visualized unburdening the shame like the outer tarnished skin being removed from a banana, envisioning the negative self-perceptions of myself peeling away and exposing the true clean, white, sweet goodness within. CHAPTER

In her magazine, Sherkat explored these issues and exposed the gross injustices of Iran’s legal system. She wrote about women who were victims of battery, a practice that, according to some interpretations of the Koran, the holy text endorses. Women needed their husbands’ permission to work outside the house or to travel. Without a notarized letter from their husbands, women couldn’t even get a passport. Sherkat began a public conversation about these issues by asking what good female cabinet ministers or members of Parliament were as long as their husbands could subvert the will of the Iranian people by barring their elected officials from leaving the house in the morning. Zanan challenged the government’s stance toward women in other ways, as well. Once, it quoted the conservative Speaker of Parliament, Ali Akbar Nateq-Nouri, as saying that “women’s most important endeavor must be their struggle as homemakers,” right above a quote by an open-minded cleric, Mohammad Khatami: “This must be the year that women will have a dominant presence at universities.” Next to those contrasting comments, the magazine published the news about the appointment of Iran’s first female professor of aircraft engineering. Women were making progress, despite what officials said.

There is no question that Benedek played his hand badly. He failed to decisively attack the Prussians when they were at their weakest, while wending their way through the passes of the Giant Mountains. He then failed to take advantage of his initial success at Koniggratz on the morning of July 3. Until the early afternoon, the Austrians had a large numerical advantage over their Prussian opponents. If Benedek had gambled on an all-out offensive, he might have been able to crush the Elbe Army and the First Army before the Second Army arrived. Failing that, Benedek should have retreated while the going was still good. Instead he stayed in place, leaving his right flank dangerously exposed, and suffered the consequences. Moltke later commented that "no one, of course, dreamed" that the enemy would open themselves up in this fashion.

dry not only my sponges but also my cutting boards, colanders, and dishes on my veranda. Sunlight is a good disinfectant, and my kitchen always looks very tidy because I don’t need a dish rack. In fact, I don’t even own a dish rack. I put all the dishes I wash into a large bowl or colander and place this on the veranda to dry. I can wash them in the morning and just leave them outside. This is an excellent solution for people living on their own or for those who don’t use many dishes. Where do you store your oil, salt, pepper, soy sauce, and other seasonings? Many people keep them right beside the stove because they want them close at hand for the sake of convenience. If you are one of these people, I hope you will rescue them right now. For one thing, a counter is for preparing food, not for storing things. Counter space beside the stove, in particular, is exposed to splatters of food and oil, and the seasonings kept here are usually sticky with grease. Rows of bottles in this area also make it much harder to keep clean, and the kitchen area will always be covered in a film of oil. Kitchen shelves and cupboards are usually designed to store seasonings and spices, so put them away where they belong. Quite often, a long, narrow drawer is located next to the oven that can be used for this purpose.

Boston Baked Beans. Pick over one quart pea beans, cover with cold water, and soak over night. In morning, drain, cover with fresh water, heat slowly (keeping water below boiling point), and cook until skins will burst,—which is best determined by taking a few beans on the tip of a spoon and blowing on them, when skins will burst if sufficiently cooked. Beans thus tested must, of course, be thrown away. Drain beans, throwing bean-water out of doors, not in sink. Scald rind of one-half pound fat salt pork, scrape, remove one-fourth inch slice and put in bottom of bean-pot. Cut through rind of remaining pork every one-half inch, making cuts one inch deep. Put beans in pot and bury pork in beans, leaving rind exposed. Mix one tablespoon salt, one tablespoon molasses, and three tablespoons sugar; add one cup boiling water, and pour over beans; then add enough more boiling water to cover beans. Cover bean-pot, put in oven, and bake slowly six or eight hours, uncovering the last hour of cooking, that rind may become brown and crisp. Add water as needed. Many feel sure that by adding with seasonings one-half tablespoon mustard, the beans are more easily digested. If pork mixed with lean is preferred, use less salt. The fine reputation which Boston Baked Beans have gained, has been attributed to the earthen bean-pot with small top and bulging sides in which they are supposed to be cooked. Equally good beans have often been eaten where a five-pound lard pail was substituted for the broken bean-pot. Yellow-eyed beans are very good when baked.

Plan for RE-READING. I highly recommend re-reading good personal development books. Rarely can we read a book once and internalize all the value from that book. Achieving mastery requires repetition—being exposed to certain ideas, strategies, or techniques over and over again, until they become engrained in the subconscious mind.

God chooses for you to be weak to protect you from you and to cause you to value the strength that only he can give. In this way, the weaknesses that he sends your way are not impediments to the good life. They are not in the way of his loving plan. They are not signs of his lack of care. They are not indicators of the failure of his promises. They do not expose gaps in the theology that we hold dear. They are not indications that the Bible contradicts itself when it says that God will meet all of your needs. No, these weaknesses are tools of his zealous and amazing grace. They protect you from the arrogance of self-reliance that tempts us all. They keep you from thinking that you're capable of what you're not. They remind you that you are needy and were created to be dependent on One greater than you. They cause you to do what all of us in some way resist doing—humbly run to God for the help that only he can give. So your weaknesses are not the big danger that you should fear. What you should really fear are your delusions of strength. When you tell yourself that you are strong, you quit being excited about God's rescuing, transforming, and empowering grace.

The Brain Song Review — Hidden Pros, Cons & Real-User Complaints Exposed! (2025 Edition) (p9fo) The Brain Song Review — Hidden Pros, Cons & Real-User Complaints Exposed! (2025 Edition) The Brain Song Review (2025): Can This 12-Minute Audio Really Boost Your Focus? CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website Do you struggle with focus in our increasingly distracting world? You've likely seen ads promising that a 12-minute audio track can rewire your brain for laser-like focus and improved memory. It almost sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? Finding a legitimate, drug-free way to achieve mental clarity can feel impossible. The Brain Song is a trending audio tool that offers a solution. It uses targeted sound frequencies (specifically gamma brainwave entrainment) based on neuroscience principles to guide your mind into an optimal state for learning, focus, and memory recall. While the marketing is compelling, real-world experiences are mixed. Many users report reduced brain fog and sharper cognitive function, but others don't see "instant" results. This in-depth Brain Song review for 2025 uncovers the truth. We'll explore the hidden benefits, drawbacks, and real-user complaints found online, helping you decide if this brainwave soundtrack is right for you.

The Brain Song Review — Hidden Pros, Cons & Real-User Complaints Exposed! (2025 Edition) (ejh6) The Brain Song Review — Hidden Pros, Cons & Real-User Complaints Exposed! (2025 Edition) The Brain Song Review (2025): Can This 12-Minute Audio Really Boost Your Focus? CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website Do you struggle with focus in our increasingly distracting world? You've likely seen ads promising that a 12-minute audio track can rewire your brain for laser-like focus and improved memory. It almost sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? Finding a legitimate, drug-free way to achieve mental clarity can feel impossible. The Brain Song is a trending audio tool that offers a solution. It uses targeted sound frequencies (specifically gamma brainwave entrainment) based on neuroscience principles to guide your mind into an optimal state for learning, focus, and memory recall. While the marketing is compelling, real-world experiences are mixed. Many users report reduced brain fog and sharper cognitive function, but others don't see "instant" results. This in-depth Brain Song review for 2025 uncovers the truth. We'll explore the hidden benefits, drawbacks, and real-user complaints found online, helping you decide if this brainwave soundtrack is right for you.

Dubai Call Girls LuXury Top Companion Get Ready 0501780622 The elevator opened directly into the Hassler Suite, and the first thing Ayla noticed was the silence. Not the kind of silence that costs money. Thick, expensive, absolute. She stepped out of the mirrored cage in bare feet; her Louboutins were already dangling from two fingers because no woman walks across 18th-century marble in six-inch heels when the client is paying for elegance, not noise. The black silk of her midnight-blue dress slid against her thighs like water. La Perla underneath, of course. Clients at this level could smell the difference. He was standing at the window, back turned, city lights glittering behind him like scattered diamonds on black velvet. White dress shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled once, exposing forearms corded and tan. No jacket. No tie. The kind of undressed that still looked deliberate. “Miss Khan,” he said without turning. The accent was Roman, old Roman, the kind you don’t hear on the street anymore. “You’re two minutes early. I like that.” Ayla let the shoes drop softly to the parquet. “Punctuality is part of the fee, Mr. Valenti.” He turned then. Thirty-five, maybe thirty-six. Dark hair a little too long, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and eyes the color of espresso left too long in the sun; almost gold. He looked like trouble wearing Tom Ford. He studied her the way men at this level study everything: like he was deciding whether she was worth the twenty-five thousand euros wired to her account that morning. “You’re younger than your photographs,” he said. “I’m exactly as young as I need to be.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Drink?” “Still water. No lemon.” He crossed to the bar himself; no staff tonight, she noted. Just the two of them and several million euros’ worth of Renaissance art watching from the walls. He poured San Pellegrino into a Baccarat tumbler, walked back and handed it over. Their fingers brushed. Deliberate on his part, testing on hers. “You’ve read the terms,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Forty-eight hours. Complete discretion. Safe word is ‘Colosseo’. No marks above the collarbone. Condoms for everything that requires them. The bonus clause if you keep me past sunrise tomorrow.” She took a slow sip. “I have.” “And you’re comfortable with all of it?” “I’m comfortable with the money,” she answered, letting her gaze drop to his mouth for half a second, just long enough. “The rest is negotiable.” Valenti set his own glass down untouched. “Then let’s not waste time.” He reached for the side zipper of her dress; slow, reverent, like he was unwrapping something priceless. The silk sighed to the floor in one fluid motion, pooling at her feet. Black lace bra, barely-there panties, garter belt, stockings. She had dressed for war, and she knew exactly how good she looked. His inhale was almost inaudible, but she caught it. “Bellissima,” he murmured, fingers tracing the line of her waist, the curve where hip met thigh. “Rome hasn’t seen something this exquisite in centuries.” “Flattery isn’t in the contract,” she whispered, stepping into him until her breasts brushed his shirt. “Touching is.” He smiled, dark and dangerous, and the last thing she saw before his mouth claimed hers was the reflection of the eternal city burning gold behind him. Tomorrow she would be gone before the maids arrived. Tonight, she belonged to Rome, and Rome belonged to him. And for twenty-five thousand euros an evening (plus the little gold envelope he would slide into her clutch at dawn), she belonged to whatever he wanted. She was very, very good at belonging.