God My Protector Quotes

I’m going to kill him.” Even as I said it, I couldn’t believe my reaction. Apparently there’s something in the Montana water that instantly transforms an agnostic, Starbucks-loving, vegetarian pacifist into a God-and-country-loving protector of all women and cattle.

I also learned that I must walk by the Spirit, trust God, and not allow my emotions to dictate my actions. Faith cannot exist alongside fear.

My name is Matthew Swift. I’m a sorcerer, the only one in the city who survived Robert Bakker’s purge. I was killed by my teacher’s shadow and my body dissolved into telephone static and all they had left to bury was a bit of blood. Then we came back, and I am we and we are me, and we are the blue electric angels, creatures of the phones and the wires, the gods made from the surplus life you miserable excuse for mortals pour into all things electric. I am the Midnight Mayor, the protector of the city, the guardian of the night, the keeper of the gates, the watcher on the walls. We turned back the death of cities, we were there when Lady Neon died, we drove the creature called Blackout into the shadows at the end of the alleys, we are light, we are life, we are fire and, would you believe it, the word that best describes our condition right now is cranky. Would you like to see what happens when you make us mad?

She was a reward I didn’t earn, a gift I didn’t deserve. But like the selfish bastard I was, I would take everything she offered. Each touch bound me to her. She even managed to eclipse my old god, Death.

The boy I loved … My savior. My protector. He had helped me when he didn’t have to. He had taken care of me. He had made sure I was warm. Fed. That I had a place to lay my head at night. Even when he couldn’t keep himself safe, he made sure that I had been. He put me first. Always. God, I had missed him.

Later, long after my grandfather was dead, I would regret that I could never be the kind of man that he was. Though I adored him as a child and found myself attracted to the safe protectorate of his soft, uncritical maleness, I never wholly appreciated him. I did not know how to cherish sanctity, and I had no way of honoring, of giving small voice to the praise of such natural innocence, such a generous simplicity. Now I know that a part of me would like to have traveled the world as he traveled it, a jester of burning faith, a fool and a forest prince brimming with the love of God. I would like to walk his southern world, thanking God for oysters and porpoises, praising God for birdsongs and sheet lightning, and seeing God reflected in pools of creekwater and the eyes of stray cats. I would like to have talked to yard dogs and tanagers as if they were my friends and fellow travelers along the sun-tortured highways, intoxicated with a love of God, swollen with charity like a rainbow, in the thoughtless mingling of its hues, connecting two distant fields in its glorious arc. I would like to have seen the world with eyes incapable of anything but wonder, and a tongue fluent only in praise.

This was something new. Or something old. I didn’t think of what it might be until after I had let Aubrey go back to the clinic to bed down next to her child. Bankole had given him something to help him sleep. He did the same for her, so I won’t be able to ask her anything more until she wakes up later this morning. I couldn’t help wondering, though, whether these people, with their crosses, had some connection with my current least favorite presidential candidate, Texas Senator Andrew Steele Jarret. It sounds like the sort of thing his people might do—a revival of something nasty out of the past. Did the Ku Klux Klan wear crosses—as well as burn them? The Nazis wore the swastika, which is a kind of cross, but I don’t think they wore it on their chests. There were crosses all over the place during the Inquisition and before that, during the Crusades. So now we have another group that uses crosses and slaughters people. Jarret’s people could be behind it. Jarret insists on being a throwback to some earlier, “simpler” time. Now does not suit him. Religious tolerance does not suit him. The current state of the country does not suit him. He wants to take us all back to some magical time when everyone believed in the same God, worshipped him in the same way, and understood that their safety in the universe depended on completing the same religious rituals and stomping anyone who was different. There was never such a time in this country. But these days when more than half the people in the country can’t read at all, history is just one more vast unknown to them. Jarret supporters have been known, now and then, to form mobs and burn people at the stake for being witches. Witches! In 2032! A witch, in their view, tends to be a Moslem, a Jew, a Hindu, a Buddhist, or, in some parts of the country, a Mormon, a Jehovah’s Witness, or even a Catholic. A witch may also be an atheist, a “cultist,” or a well-to-do eccentric. Well-to-do eccentrics often have no protectors or much that’s worth stealing. And “cultist” is a great catchall term for anyone who fits into no other large category, and yet doesn’t quite match Jarret’s version of Christianity. Jarret’s people have been known to beat or drive out Unitarians, for goodness’ sake. Jarret condemns the burnings, but does so in such mild language that his people are free to hear what they want to hear. As for the beatings, the tarring and feathering, and the destruction of “heathen houses of devil-worship,” he has a simple answer: “Join us! Our doors are open to every nationality, every race! Leave your sinful past behind, and become one of us. Help us to make America great again.

God is my shield. God is my defender. God is my protector.

Gods of fire and ice, bless my new home," she whispered in Yamani. "Keep my will burning as hot as the heart of the volcano, and as hard and implacable as a glacier.

My thoughts shift to my friends. I'd been so angry with them for grabbing my pain from me in the wake of the News. But maybe my friends were loving me the best way they knew how, just like I was trying to love Amma. We think our job as humans is to avoid pain, our job as parents is to protect our children from pain, and our job as friends is to fix each other's pain. Maybe that's why we all feel like failures so often--because we all have the wrong job description for love. What my friends didn't know about me and I didn't know about Amma is that people who are hurting don't need Avoiders, Protectors, or Fixers. What we need are patient, loving witnesses. People to sit quietly and hold space for us. People to stand in helpless vigil to our pain. There on the floor, I promise myself that I'll be that kind of mother, that kind of friend. I'll show up and stand humble in the face of a loved one's pain. I'll admit I'm as empty-handed, dumbstruck, and out of ideas as she is. I won't try to make sense of things or require more than she can offer. I won't let my discomfort with her pain keep me from witnessing it for her. I'l never try to grab or fix her pain, because I know that for as long as it takes, he pain will also be her comfort. It will be all she has left. Grief is love's souvenir. It's our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I loved well. Here is my proof that I paid the price. So I'll just show up and sit quietly and practice not being God with her. I'm so sorry, I'll say. Thank you for trusting me enough to invite me close. I see your pain and it's real. I'm so sorry.

Her hand lifted without any volition on her part, as if it were the hand itself that wanted to be held by his. He gently grasped it in both hands, instead of the impersonal handshake she’d been expecting. His hands were as hot as a furnace. Slowly, watching her every second, he brought her hand to his mouth and—oh my God—kissed it. Something inside her, something she’d never even suspected existed, pinged to life. Heat, excitement . . . desire.

Are you falling asleep before midnight?" Cassie leaned over the edge of the couch to look at Jack. He was stretched out on the floor, his head resting against a pillow near the center of the couch, his eyes closed. She was now wide awake and headache free. He wasn't in so good a shape. "The new year is eighteen minutes away." "Come kiss me awake in seventeen minutes." She blinked at that lazy suggestion, gave a quick grin, and dropped Benji on his chest. He opened one eye to look up at her as he settled his hand lightly on the kitten. "That's a no?" She smiled. She was looking forward to dating him, but she was smart enough to know he'd value more what he had to work at. He sighed. "That was a no. How much longer am I going to be on the fence with you?" "Is that a rhetorical question or do you want an answer?" If this was the right relationship God had for her future, time taken now would improve it, not hurt it. She was ready to admit she was tired of being alone. He scratched Benji under the chin and the kitten curled up on his chest and batted a paw at his hand. "Rhetorical. I'd hate to get my hopes up." She leaned her chin against her hand, looking down at him. "I like you, Jack." "You just figured that out?" "I'll like you more when you catch my mouse." "The only way we are going to catch T.J. is to turn this place into a cheese factory and help her get so fat and slow that she can no longer run and hide." Or you could move your left hand about three inches to the right right and catch her." Jack opened one eye and glanced toward his left. The white mouse was sitting motionless beside the plate he had set down earlier. "Let her have the cheeseburger. You put mustard on it." "You're horrible." He smiled. "I'm serious." "So am I." Jack leaned over, caught Cassie's foot, and tumbled her to the floor. "Oops." "That wasn't fair. You scared my mouse." Jack set the kitten on the floor. "Benji, go get her mouse." The kitten took off after it. "You're teaching her to be a mouser." "Working on it. Come here. You owe me a kiss for the new year." "Do I?" She reached over to the bowl of chocolates on the table and unwrapped a kiss. She popped the chocolate kiss into his mouth. "I called your bluff." He smiled and rubbed his hand across her forearm braced against his chest. "That will last me until next year." She glanced at the muted television. "That's two minutes away." "Two minutes to put this year behind us." He slid one arm behind his head, adjusting the pillow. She patted his chest with her hand. "That shouldn't take long." She felt him laugh. "It ended up being a very good year," she offered. "Next year will be even better." "Really? Promise?" "Absolutely." He reached behind her ear and a gold coin reappeared. "What do you think? Heads you say yes when I ask you out, tails you say no?" She grinned at the idea. "Are you cheating again?" She took the coin. "This one isn't edible," she realized, disappointed. And then she turned it over. "A real two-headed coin?" "A rare find." He smiled. "Like you." "That sounds like a bit of honey." "I'm good at being mushy." "Oh, really?" He glanced over her shoulder. "Turn up the TV. There's the countdown." She grabbed for the remote and hit the wrong button. The TV came on full volume just as the fireworks went off. Benji went racing past them spooked by the noise to dive under the collar of the jacket Jack had tossed on the floor. The white mouse scurried to run into the jacket sleeve. "Tell me I didn't see what I think I just did." "I won't tell you," Jack agreed, amused. He watched the jacket move and raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to rescue the kitten or the mouse?

When I was two-and-twenty, and had taken my degree in law, my old uncle, the Abbe Loraux, then seventy-two years old, felt it necessary to provide me with a protector, and to start me in some career. This excellent man, if not indeed a saint, regarded each year of his life as a fresh gift from God.

She winced at the rush of pain that shuddered through the base of her skull. “Holy balls, my head hurts.” “God, your mouth.” The way he said it almost sounded like a groan. “I think you like my mouth.” The instant the words were out she wished she could reel them back in. Oh yeah, clearly she had a concussion. Or freaking brain damage. To her surprise, his lips pulled up in the first honest to God smile she’d ever seen from him. It completely transformed his constantly gruff expression into something that should be considered illegal. “You wouldn’t be wrong about that,” he murmured. Wait…what?

Book Excerpt: "What about your family, Abu Huwa? Are you an orphan?” the little girl very innocently asked the Sphinx. “My father and your father are one and the same. However, I do have a brother who has stood as my mirror throughout time on the opposite horizon. It is I who faces east, but it is he who faces west. I am the recorder of yesterday and he holds the records of tomorrow. I am the positive, and he is my negative. I carry the right eye of the sun and he carries the left eye of the moon. He keeps his eye on the underworld and I keep an eye on the world over. Together we have joined the sky and earth, and split fire and water.” Seham stood on all toes to peek over the Sphinx's shoulder for a sign of his brother. “Where is he?” she asked, her eyes still searching the open horizon. “He has yet to be uncovered, but as I stand above the sands of time, he still sleeps below. Before the descent of Adam, we have both stood as loyal Protectors of the Two Halls of Truth.” The girl asked in astonishment, “I've never heard of these halls, Abu Huwa. Where are they?” “At the end of each of our tails is a passage that will reveal to you the secrets of Time. One hall reflects a thousand truths, and the other hall reflects all that is untrue. One will speak to your heart, and the other will speak to your mind. This is why you need to use both your heart and mind to understand which one is real, and which is a distorted illusion created to misguide those that have neglected their conscience. Both passageways connect you to the Great Hall of Records.” “What is the Hall of Records?” “The Great Pyramid, my child. It is as multidimensional in its shape as it is in its purpose. Every layer and every brick marks the coming of a prophet, the ascension of evil, or another cycle of man. It contains the entire history and future of mankind. And, as is above, so is below. Above ground, it serves as the most powerful energy source to harmonize and power the world! The shape of the pyramid above ground is also the same image mirrored beneath it. Underground, it serves as a powerful well and drain. This is really why Egypt is called the Land of Two Lands. There exists a huge world of its own underneath the plateau, a world within worlds. Large amounts of gold, copper and mercury were once housed here, including the secrets of Time, the 100th name of He Who Is All, and a gift from Truth that still awaits to be discovered. It sleeps with Time in the Great Pyramid, hidden away in a lower shaft that leads to the stars.” Dialogue from 'The Little Girl and the Sphinx' by Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun (Dar-El Shams, 2010)

At that moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment to lose, but, seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, "Now is the time! Save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I seek. Do not desert me in the hour of trial!" '"Great God!" exclaimed the old man, "who are you?" 'At that instant the cottage door opened...

The just, bold as a lion, shall be without dread. There was no other in all the wide plains of Troy who was kind to me, and my friend. Here, in the tenth region of the Night, will be waged the battle between the light and the darkness, between the dragon, the World-Devourer, and the king of the sun. Be unto me a God, a protector, and a house of refuge to save me. For you are my strength and my refuge.

David would enter the crucible of suffering where truly great servants of God are made. Perhaps you are there now. One of the most devastating realities of this kind of suffering is that often the one you thought would be your protector becomes the one who measures out the pain. All that longing for justice, for fairness, for having everything as it should be seems useless. As you think on the glory days of the past, your heart aches to turn back the clock, but you can’t. In these moments it’s tempting to believe that God has forgotten about us, or even worse, that He simply doesn’t care—His favor has moved on. If you are there right now, my heart aches for you. No one signs up for this school of suffering, and yet the deep work that God does in this painful, lonely place is rarely produced anywhere else.

She stared at him, at his face. Simply stared as the scales fell from her eyes. "Oh, my God," she whispered, the exclamation so quiet not even he would hear. She suddenly saw-saw it all-all that she'd simply taken for granted. Men like him protected those they loved, selflessly, unswervingly, even unto death. The realization rocked her. Pieces of the jigsaw of her understanding of him fell into place. He was hanging to consciousness by a thread. She had to be sure-and his shields, his defenses were at their weakest now. Looking down at her hands, pressed over the nearly saturated pad, she hunted for the words, the right tone. Softly said, "My death, even my serious injury, would have freed you from any obligation to marry me. Society would have accepted that outcome, too." He shifted, clearly in pain. She sucked in a breath-feeling his pain as her own-then he clamped the long fingers of his right hand about her wrist, held tight. So tight she felt he was using her as an anchor to consciousness, to the world. His tone, when he spoke, was harsh. "Oh, yes-after I'd expended so much effort keeping you safe all these years, safe even from me, I was suddenly going to stand by and let you be gored by some mangy bull." He snorted, soft, low. Weakly. He drew in a slow, shallow breath, lips thin with pain, but determined, went on, "You think I'd let you get injured when finally after all these long years I at last understand that the reason you've always made me itch is because you are the only woman I actually want to marry? And you think I would stand back and let you be harmed?" A peevish frown crossed his face. "I ask you, is that likely? Is it even vaguely rational?" He went on, his words increasingly slurred, his tongue tripping over some, his voice fading. She listened, strained to catch every word as he slid into semi delirium, into rambling, disjointed sentences that she drank in, held to her heart. He gave her dreams back to her, reshaped and refined. "Not French Imperial-good, sound, English oak. You can use whatever colors you like, but no gilt-I forbid it." Eventually he ventured further than she had. "And I want at least three children-not just an heir and a spare. At least three-if you're agreeable. We'll have to have two boys, of course-my evil ugly sisters will found us to make good on that. But thereafter...as many girls as you like...as long as they look like you. Or perhaps Cordelia-she's the handsomer of the two uglies." He loved his sisters, his evil ugly sisters. Heather listened with tears in her eyes as his mind drifted and his voice gradually faded, weakened. She'd finally got her declaration, not in anything like the words she'd expected, but in a stronger, impossible-to-doubt exposition. He'd been her protector, unswerving, unflinching, always there; from a man like him, focused on a lady like her, such actions were tantamount to a declaration from the rooftops. The love she'd wanted him to admit to had been there all along, demonstrated daily right before her eyes, but she hadn't seen. Hadn't seen because she'd been focusing elsewhere, and because, conditioned as she was to resisting the same style of possessive protectiveness from her brothers, from her cousins, she hadn't appreciated his, hadn't realized that that quality had to be an expression of his feelings for her. Until now. Until now that he'd all but given his life for hers. He loved her-he'd always loved her. She saw that now, looking back down the years. He'd loved her from the time she'd fallen in love with him-the instant they'd laid eyes on each other at Michael and Caro's wedding in Hampshire four years ago. He'd held aloof, held away-held her at bay, too-believing, wrongly, that he wasn't an appropriate husband for her. In that, he'd been wrong, too. She saw it all. And as the tears overflowed and tracked down her cheeks, she knew to her soul how right he was for her. Knew, embraced, and rejoiced.

By nature and by training this woman was all for conservation of life. She had been brought up in rather a strict and narrow school. In her day although no one, certainly no woman, was expected to save humanity, every female was confidently expected to produce it. More than that, she was earnestly enjoined to guard and protect it. So Mary Ball and her successor Mary Washington, early imbibed not only a sense of the woman's responsibility for the family but a sense of her authority over it....At any rate, in this particular crisi she was merely obeying a law of nature as old as womanhood--to protect the creature she had brought into the world. There was no subtlety in her. She could not see the finer shadings of ths situation, the fact that in holding him back from the frontier she might be putting him into even greater peril. Her course was prompted by instinct and impulse, and she never thought of questioning the right or wrong of it. So, armed with the most primitive of all weapons, she faced her son for a hard fight. But she was pitted here against a temendous paradox. With her whole might she was resisting the demands of war, and yet it had been that very strength that had produced the warrior. Her opponent was remarkably like her--in strength of mind and body, in resolution, in force of will. Now, it is one of the ironies of life that sameness creates opposition. In the conflict that day at Mount Vernon, therefore, the contestants were fighting with identical weapons, even though from different spheres... George Washington must have been a very patient man. And if he had patience, that, too, came from her by that same theory of heredity that makes a firstborn son peculiarly like his mother. So this must be written in to her credity when for the third time she has to be recorded as trying to interrupt his destiny. As a last resort he used a weapon that she herself had put into his hand. Madam," he is said to have remarked with respectful finality, "the God to whom you commended me when first I went to war will be my protector stil.

You may not care what happens to the rest of the world. But I do. This is bigger than my life, than all of our lives. If grandfather Enoch prophesied the truth and Betenos and I are the lineage of the Seed, then why would you give up? Would you dishonor the faith of the one you loved most on this earth?” That got through Methuselah’s wall of silence. Lamech was right. His son was absolutely right. Methuselah had placed his faith in this world and not in Elohim’s promised world to come. He had relied on his senses for so long that he had worn them out. He had lost his taste, his smell, his touch; he had become blind, deaf and dumb. He had neglected prayer because Elohim seemed so distant and his prayers almost futile. He had come to believe that things got done because he got up and did them, not because of Elohim’s solicited favor. Since Elohim was going to do what he was going to do anyway, then why bother wasting time talking to him about it? He had become a self-made man who lifted himself up by his own sandal straps. And it was all a self-deluded lie. He had missed the whole point that his wife had been trying to tell him: he distrusted Elohim because of the betrayal of the gods. He had lived a life of self-reliance rather than a life of faith. He had sought desperately for significance in this world. But he now understood his significance would be as the protector of Elohim’s Seed, not the fulfiller of his own.

Prayer for All Things Necessary for Salvation O MY God! I believe in Thee; do Thou strengthen my faith. All my hopes are in Thee; do Thou secure them. I love Thee with my whole heart; teach me to love Thee more and more. I am sorry that I have offended Thee; do Thou increase my sorrow. I adore Thee as my first beginning; I aspire after Thee as my last end. I give Thee thanks as my constant benefactor; I call upon Thee as my sovereign protector. Vouchsafe, O my God, to conduct me by Thy wisdom, to restrain me by Thy justice, to comfort me by Thy mercy, to defend me by Thy power. To Thee I desire to consecrate all my thoughts, my actions, and my sufferings, that I henceforward may think only of Thee, speak only of Thee, and ever refer all my actions to Thy greater glory, and suffer willingly whatever Thou shalt appoint. O Lord, I desire that in all things Thy will be done, because it is Thy will, and in the manner that Thou willest. I beg of Thee to enlighten my understanding, to inflame my will, to purify my body, and to sanctify my soul. Give me strength, O my God, to expiate my offenses, to overcome my temptations, to subdue my passions, to acquire the virtues proper for my state. Fill my heart with tender affection for Thy goodness, a hatred of my faults, a love for my neighbor, and a contempt for the world. Let me always be submissive to my superiors, condescending to my inferiors, faithful to my friends, and charitable to my enemies. Assist me to overcome sensuality by mortification, avarice by almsdeeds, anger by meekness, and tepidity by zeal. O my God, make me prudent in my undertakings, courageous in dangers, patient in affliction, and humble in prosperity. Grant that I may be ever attentive at my prayers, temperate at my meals, diligent in my employments, and constant in my resolutions. Let my conscience be ever upright and pure, my exterior modest, my conversation edifying, my comportment regular. Assist me, that I may continually labor to overcome nature, correspond with Thy grace, keep Thy commandments, and work out my salvation. Discover to me, O my God, the nothingness of this world, the greatness of heaven, the shortness of time, the length of eternity. Grant that I may be prepared for death, fear Thy judgments, escape hell, and, in the end, obtain heaven. All that I have asked for myself I confidently ask for others; for my family, my relations, my benefactors, my friends, and also for my enemies. I ask it for the whole Church, for all the orders of which it is composed; more especially for our Holy Father, the Pope; for our bishop, for our pastors, and for all who are in authority; also for all those for whom Thou desirest that I should pray. Give them, O Lord, all that Thou knowest to be conducive to Thy glory and necessary for their salvation. Strengthen the just in virtue, convert sinners, enlighten infidels, heretics, and schismatics; console the afflicted, give to the faithful departed rest and eternal life; that together we may praise, love, and bless Thee for all eternity. Amen.

One day, when the age of the Holy Prophet Muhammad did not exceed four years, and he was spending his days with his fostermother Halimah, he expressed a desire to accompany his fosterbrothers to the jungle. Halimah says: “On the following day I bathed Muhammad, oiled his hair and put collyrium in his eyes. I also put round his neck, for the sake of his safety, a Yemen bead, which had been fixed in a thread, so that he might remain immune from the evil spirits. Muhammad removed the bead from his neck and spoke thus to me: Dear mother! Be comforted. My God who is always with me is my Protector and Preserver!”2

Lord is my Fierce Protector and my Pastor.b I always have more than enough. 2He offers a resting place for me In his luxurious love. His tracks take me to an oasis of peace, The quiet brook of bliss. 3That’s where he restores and revives my life. He opens before me pathways to God’s pleasure, And leads me along in his footsteps of righteousness,c So that I can bring honor to his name. 4Lord, even when your path takes me through The valley of deepest darkness Fear will never conquer me, for you already have! You remain close to me and lead me through it all the way. Your authority is my strength and my peace.d The comfort of your love takes away my fear. I’ll never be lonely, for you are near.e 5You become my delicious feast Even when my enemies dare to fight. You anoint me with the fragrance of your Holy Spirit;f You give me all I can drink of you until my heart overflows. 6So why would I fear the future? For I’m being pursued only by Your goodness and unfailing love. Then afterwards—when my life is through, I’ll return to your glorious presence To be forever with you!

You will come back to the castle with me." "I don't belong there. I don't belong anyplace." "You belong with me," he replied without the slightest hesitation. Her chin trembled as she held his gaze. "I-I'm not your responsibility." "Yes, you are. You are mine. They gave you to me, remember? And I want to keep you. Come here," he ordered softly. She lifted her arms and stepped into his embrace without another word. He hugged her close, his heart pounding. "Listen to me. I don't want you to worry for one instant what will become of you, all right? I'll look after you. Whatever you need. You have my word, Kate. You're not alone, do you understand?" he whispered as he held her. After a moment, he felt her nod against his chest. "There's my brave girl," he murmured, brushing a kiss to her forehead. It was at that moment that it dawned on him what he was going to do when they returned to the castle. The thought shocked him as it struck, igniting his heart, even as it filled him with an odd relief. Of course. She was already under his protection. By now, anyone outside the castle no doubt assumed she was already his mistress. They already wanted each other so badly. He saw no reason now not to offer her his carte blanche. Yes. She must become more securely his. It was not his way to keep any one particular mistress to service his needs. But if Kate were his, then he would not have to worry about her, even beyond all this business with O'Banyon. He would know exactly where she was, that she was fed, clothed, protected, and provided for. Admittedly, it might come across as utterly ruthless of him to make such an offer at a time like this---as though he were coldly taking advantage of her at the moment of her greatest vulnerability. But he was not motivated by lust. At least not entirely. Obviously, he could not marry her---not with his curse, and her Promethean blood. But if Kate was his mistress, then he could watch over her, and if anyone ever tried to hurt her again, they would have to deal with him first. Besides, he knew by now how her mind worked. If he were simply to make her a promise of financial help, she wouldn't take it. She was too proud. Hell, with her independent spirit, she would abhor any offer that she interpreted as charity. So, let her work for it. God, he had dreamed of making love to her since that first night when Caleb Doyle had brought her to the castle for that very purpose. Even now, she felt like heaven in his arms. If she was willing, he knew one sure way to comfort her when they got her back to the castle. He could make all her tears and sorrow melt away... Cradling her in his embrace, Rohan pressed another possessive kiss to her brow.

Why does he melt my heart so much?” Myra sets her slushie down and reclaims her pricing gun. “Because you’re a mama bear at heart. It doesn’t matter if it’s orphaned children who need a home or ancient immortals stuck on the fringe. You're a gatherer and a protector.” She’s not wrong.

but you are a God of the afflicted. You are a helper of the minorities, a helper of the weak, a protector of the forsaken, a savior of those who are without hope. 12 Yes, yes, God of my father, and God of the inheritance of Israel, Lord of the heavens and of the earth. Creator of the waters, King of every creature, hear my prayer.

A KIDNEY PAD ON MY PENIS IS NOT TO FUCK ANYONE BUT TO PROTECT MY LIFE JUST LIKE A WEAPON IN THE HANDS OF A DOCTOR

And he sees it. How I see him. A warrior. A god. A protector. The original thorn. My thorn.

Good God, I love this man. Solid and stable and endlessly good-natured, an excellent protector and stepfather to my two girls. The kind of man who is the polar opposite of their deadbeat father. And Patrick has always been so generous, sharing this house and his bank account with me and the twins, never treating it as his money but ours.

Don’t you see how arrogant that is?! You soul reapers slay us as though we were vermin. Who do you think you are?! A god?! By what right do you you slaughter us hollows?! Is it because we devour humans?! Who made you their protectors?! No! No one gave you that authority!!! You soul reapers call us evil and slay us because you think you hold the power of justice in your hands!! But you’re just—” “What makes you think I’m acting as a soul reaper? I’m going to slay you because…you…aimed your blade at my pride.

The stab that I'd take with this situation the moment I felt ready I spoke to my mother lately when I'm old be fore I marrid by that I didnt what i expected from her instead she didnt notice the pain that i'd eexperianced through. To heal myself I forgave her,accepted my situation learn to live positive in it.In the side of forgive the group of men that raped me continueosly I decided to live my home town to start new life another town where I meet with my soul partner God provided with handsome suitable guy as I had issued with men it took God's misterious ways to connect us he's my friend and prayer partner God blessed us with two sons and one doughter, he continue on helping us on raising our kids again i deed decision of raing our kids for myself by being house wife thanks God and my husband to be succed i 'm not perfect but i tried with God help and my closest friends,family it heppening.As i developed anger, sensitive and other unneeded personality throught my issue activities like body training,blogging,podcusting,reading bible and other booksk,being author,listing music special gospel help me to be in right position.The thing i can ask or say to other to other people is "Women Please love and protect your kids let stop this take quick action to help them if you see suspetious thing be close to them in a way that you manage to see if there's something not right heppen to them cause sometimes they will not tell you like on my case in any reason usualy strangers or rapist make them not say anything or your communication with them is not strong enough or any reason they make them shut To the community let protect each other be your sisters or brothers keeper on your neighborhood or in house report the susptious act cause tomorrow will heppen in your house.Men you are the master protector not rapist stand your ground as God do trusted you with kids and women protect them stop taking advantage who ever does that.To those who like me the victim of rape I'm your girl to use alcohol,drugs and sex edict throw shame and unclean feeling is not solution it only running away act ask yourself that how long you'll runing away with cancer that eating you alive,face by allowing God to be your sim card, rica him and let him operate in you by rebuid you make you a new creation spiritual by acepting Jesus Christ as lord and your savior, healer and believe that God raised him from death in your special prayer with your mouth loud as confesion as I deed you'll be safe 100% in his arms like I am your story will change completly as mine finely no one knows you better dont allow situation explain you you beautiful handsome valueble God love you more than every one and he cares about you I love you'll take care of yourself youre the hero &herous.

I came alone and I go as a stranger. The instant which has passed in power has left only sorrow behind it. I have not been the guardian and protector of the Empire. Life, so valuable, has been squandered in vain. God was in my heart but I could not see him. Life is transient. The past is gone and there is no hope for the future. The whole imperial army is like me: bewildered, perturbed, separated from God, quaking like quicksilver.

Jesus’ Father is nearby, holy, powerful, caring, forgiving and our protector. These attributes provide strong images of who God is and what fatherhood means. And we now have a way to define the Father’s goodness. We also have a way to measure what true parenthood ought to be. A good parent, be it a father or mother, ought to possess these six characteristics. Of the six aspects of the nature of God the Father (present, pure, powerful, provides, pardons, protects) as seen in the Lord’s Prayer, which do you most need to see and understand about God? As a father, I try hard, but often fail, to reflect each of those six characteristics. I am near to my children, but sometimes I am distant, preferring to read the newspaper than play with them. And my work sometimes takes me far away for weeks at a time. I also try hard to be good and pure, but I fail miserably at times, snapping at them for minor infractions and being petty and selfish. I try to be strong for my kids, but sometimes I am scared and confused, just as they are. I do a decent job of providing for them, but sometimes I provide too much and spoil them. I forgive them, but I catch myself bringing up their past mistakes. And I try to protect them, but I am woefully aware that I cannot protect them from all enemies that lurk about. My children, my wife and most of my friends would rate me as a decent father. Every Father’s Day both of my children write me cards and say, “You are the best dad ever.” But I am aware of my deficiencies and pray that my children do not suffer because of them. My point here is that

Oh my god. They taught you emoticons.

Please,” said Kissen. She had a knife in her other hand, but she held it by the blade. It had silver-grey stones that flickered. “Do you still have Aan’s gift?” Inara blinked, surprised. “Y-yes.” No lie, no connivance, no flicker. Kissen releasing her emotions was releasing vulnerability to the gods, to the world, to her. “Inara Craier,” said Lessa strongly. “Listen to me, not her.” Inara ignored her. “Take it,” she said to Kissen. “It’s around my neck.” “Inara?” Lessa’s tone was both a question and a reprimand, she took another step forward, but Elo moved to guard her and Kissen, lifting his stolen knife. With her as well, her knight and protector. “Stay back, Mother,” commanded Inara, and Lessa stopped on the tiles. Inara didn’t look back. “I mourned for you,” she said instead.

Psalm 90 (91) 1 The praise of an ode by David. He who dwells in the help of the Most High Shall lodge in the shelter of the God of heaven. 2He shall say to the Lord, “You are my protector and my refuge, My God; I will hope in Him; 3For He shall free me from the snare of the hunters, And from every troubling word.” 4He shall overshadow you with His shoulders, And under His wings you shall hope; His truth shall encircle you with a shield. 5You shall not be frightened by fear at night, Nor from an arrow that flies by day, 6Nor by a thing moving in darkness, Nor by mishap and a demon of noonday. 7A thousand shall fall at your side And ten thousand at your right hand, Yet it shall not come near you; 8But you shall observe with your eyes, And you shall see the reward of sinners. 9For You, O Lord, are my hope; You made the Most High your refuge. 10Evils shall not come to you, And a scourge shall not draw near your dwelling; 11For He shall command His angels concerning you, To keep you in all your ways; 12In their hands they shall bear you up, Lest you strike your foot against a stone; 13You shall tread upon the asp and the basilisk, And you shall trample the lion and the dragon. 14“For he hoped in Me, and I will deliver him; I will shelter him, because he knew My name. 15He shall call upon Me, and I will hear him; I am with him in affliction, And I will deliver and glorify him. 16With length of days I will satisfy him, And show him My salvation.

Hebrews 4:12. Here are some of the living words that illuminated my reality: Father - my creator, my sustainer, my essence, my rest, my shalom, my affirmer, my accepter, my peace, my love, my provider, my protector, my healer, my sanctifier, my righteousness, my banner, my victory, my security, my identity, my anchor, my hope, my delight, my purpose, my glorifier, my rock, my restorer. Father - my reconciler, my transformer, my transfigurer, my renewer, my conformer, my forgiver, my strength, my authority, my power, my eternal destination, my eternal home, my reference point.

My lips tilt, smiling gently at my girl. My girl. God, that’s all I want.

1I love you, [Lord] God, and you make me strong. 2You are my mighty rock, o my fortress, my protector, the rock where I am safe, my shield, my powerful weapon, p and my place of shelter. 3I praise you, [Lord]! I prayed, and you rescued me from my enemies. 4Death had wrapped its ropes around me, and I was almost swallowed by its flooding waters. 5Ropes from the world of the dead had coiled around me, and death had set a trap in my path. 6I was in terrible trouble when I called out to you, but from your temple you heard me and answered my prayer.

It is often pointed out, and for good reason, that ‘ezer is often used in the Old Testament to refer to God as “helper” and protector of Israel. When Israel is in trouble, they can count on God to “help.”5 He is your shield and helper and your glorious sword. (Deut 33:29) You are destroyed, Israel, because you are against me, against your helper. (Hos 13:9) But as for me, I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliverer. (Ps 70:5) I lift my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (Ps 121:1)

Deliver me, O my God, out of the hand of the sinner, * and out of the hand of the transgressor of the law and of the unjust. 70:6 For thou art my patience, O Lord: * my hope, O Lord, from my youth. 70:7 By thee have I been confirmed from the womb: * from my mother's womb thou art my protector. 70:8 Of thee shall I continually sing: * I am become unto many as a wonder, but thou art a strong helper.

I’d suffered after Trace had been taken from me but I’d lived. I’d survived. But I knew in my gut that I wouldn’t survive it if I lost Seth. I was in love with him. Plain and simple. And yet it wasn’t. I’d been in love with Trace, but with Seth…God, I lived and breathed for Seth. Bullet

In the Declaration of Independence, God is mentioned or referred to four times: as Creator who gives us “certain unalienable rights,” as a sovereign legislator (Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God), the ultimate authority as “the Supreme Judge of the world,” and having faith (a firm reliance on) in the guardian and protector of mankind (Divine Providence). Keep this in mind when Jefferson mentions natural rights referring to religious expression in his reply to the Danbury Baptists: Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legislative powers of government reach actions only, and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature would “make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” thus building a wall of separation between Church and State. Adhering to this expression of the supreme will of the nation in behalf of the rights of conscience, I shall see with sincere satisfaction the progress of those sentiments which tend to restore to man all his natural rights, convinced he has no natural right in opposition to his social duties. I reciprocate your kind prayers for the protection and blessing of the common Father and Creator of man, and tender you for yourselves and your religious association, assurances of my high respect and esteem.[1] [1]  Thomas Jefferson, The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, Albert E. Bergh, ed. (Washington, D. C.: The Thomas Jefferson Memorial Association of the United States, 1904), Vol. XVI, pp. 281-282. This might be one of the only occurrences in American history where an individual’s written words have not only been purposefully divorced from their context, but the same words – taken from a private letter – are now used as the primary authority for a national public policy. Our

A YEARNING HEART My heart is hurting right now, I don't know what to do, Father say something to me, I don't know what to do, No one knows how I feel right now, Only you father knows how I feel, I need you right now More than yesterday, I need you to embrace me And say, it's going to be okay my child. You are the defender of the weak, You are my protector and my helper. I need you right now To uphold me with your right Hand of righteousness, You promised not to leave me Nor forsake me, I need you right now, Do not hide your face from me. I'm longing for your everlasting love And your everlasting kindness, Thank you Father God!!!

Gracious God, how precious it is to know that you are sovereign and that you protect your people. In the midst of confusion, you provide insight. When facing danger, you are my shield and protector. No evil words or plots to destroy your people can separate me from your love that has been demonstrated in Christ Jesus, my Lord. I do not understand the forces of evil in our world or the suffering your people endure. I acknowledge that many around the world are killed because of their witness to your Son, Jesus Christ. But I trust the truth your are God and there is no other. You know the future, and you see the evil attempts of evil people to accomplish your purposes for your glory and your good. May I stand firmly on what I know and not be distracted or discouraged by what is unclear. In the name of Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior. Amen

Shopping Dana Gioia I enter the temple of my people but do not pray. I pass the altars of the gods but do not kneel Or offer sacrifices proper to the season. Strolling the hushed aisles of the department store, I see visions shining under glass, Divinities of leather, gold, and porcelain, Shrines of cut crystal, stainless steel, and silicon. But I wander the arcades of abundance, Empty of desire, no credit to my people, Envying the acolytes their passionate faith. Blessed are the acquisitive, For theirs is the kingdom of commerce. Redeem me, gods of the mall and marketplace. Mercury, protector of cell phones and fax machines, Venus, patroness of bath and bedroom chains, Tantalus, guardian of the food court. Beguile me with the aromas of coffee, musk, and cinnamon. Surround me with delicately colored soaps and moisturizing creams. Comfort me with posters of children with perfect smiles And pouting teenage models clad in lingerie. I am not made of stone. Show me satins, linen, crepe de chine, and silk, Heaped like cumuli in the morning sky, As if all caravans and argosies ended in this parking lot To fill these stockrooms and loading docks. Sing me the hymns of no cash down and the installment plan, Of custom fit, remote control, and priced to move. Whisper the blessing of Egyptian cotton, polyester, and cashmere. Tell me in what department my desire shall be found. Because I would buy happiness if I could find it, Spend all that I possessed or could borrow. But what can I bring you from these sad emporia? Where in this splendid clutter Shall I discover the one true thing? Nothing to carry, I should stroll easily Among the crowded countertops and eager cashiers, Bypassing the sullen lines and footsore customers, Spending only my time, discounting all I see. Instead I look for you among the pressing crowds, But they know nothing of you, turning away, Carrying their brightly packaged burdens. There is no angel among the vending stalls and signage. Where are you, my fugitive? Without you There is nothing but the getting and the spending Of things that have a price. Why else have I stalked the leased arcades Searching the kiosks and the cash machines? Where are you, my errant soul and innermost companion? Are you outside amid the potted palm trees, Bumming a cigarette or joking with the guards, Or are you wandering the parking lot Lost among the rows of Subarus and Audis? Or is it you I catch a sudden glimpse of Smiling behind the greasy window of the bus As it disappears into the evening rush?

I will not think about suicide. No matter how much you tempt me, Satan, that is not an option. God is my strength and my shield. Jesus is my Lord and my protector. The Bible says to resist the devil and he will flee. So get out of here!

I AM the Almighty God, the lover of your soul, and the protector of your heart. My ability to fulfill My promises to you is not limited by time or space.

So you can have your dear pets from this life or other lives and your animal totem that comes into life with you and protects you. We have spirit guides, angels, and loved ones who have passed over that also protect us and help guide us. That’s why we should never feel alone ever. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is lost that God creates and we have all existed with God since the beginning of time or like my guide says—always. They are here to be our loving helpers, companions, and protectors.

I already said that all gods and goddesses including indra is living inside me, I am mixture of all, And I align them as per my wish, I decide my own astrology, That is why I said I decide whether to be good or bad or crazy or neutral or creator or protector or destroyer, I am Ganapathy K, not Ganesh

Who am I? I am a warrior. My physical, emotional, and spiritual self revolves around being a warrior. I believe war is a gift from God. . . . I am not a patriot or mercenary. I fight to fight. . . . I believe if you want to kill, you must be willing to die. I am willing to do both, whichever the situation calls for. I am a student of war and warriors. There will be no blood on my hands because I or my men were not prepared for battle. I will prepare for battle every single day. I will love my men as I love my own children. I will take my men places and show them things that they never believed possible. . . . I will give my life for them as readily as I kiss my children at night and put them to bed. I will be their protector and their avenger if necessary. I will always expect the impossible from them. . . . I believe in God but I do not ask for his protection in battle. I ask that I will be given the courage to die like a warrior. I pray for the safety of my men. And I pray for my enemies. I pray for a worthy enemy. . . . I believe in the wrathful god of combat. I believe in Hecate. The gods of war have received their sacrifices from me. . . . I have a huge ego. It feeds my daimon,” he said, referring to a tutelary spirit. “It is me and I am it. But I know it is there. Passion is power. Passion feeds my soul. I will seek passion out in others. . . . I am my children, my parents, my friends, my tribal family, the men I have gone into battle with, and my enemies. They reside in me. It is for them that I do battle. I want, need, and long for their acceptance. I want them to be proud of me. I will be loyal to being a warrior for all time. I will prepare a place in Valhalla for the warriors whose paths I have been blessed to cross. I will be with them in this life and the next. I am a warrior.

I nearly stumbled at the warmth that flooded my insides. God, if that was the reaction I had when he sent me the tiniest of grins, what the hell would happen if he actually acted like he gave a fuck about me? A

I see it when you look at him,” I said softly as I began stroking my thumb along the line of his jaw. “But you always make sure he isn’t looking at you when you do it.” “Oh God,” Tristan whispered. “Does

Leelan,” Wrath barked as he exploded up from his chair. There were all kinds of deep-voiced greetings, but his brothers got out of the way so that she had a clear shot into his arms. And as he lifted her up, he was careful to put no pressure on her belly. “How are you?” he whispered in her ear, knowing that one of these days, she was going to answer that she was having contractions. “Fine and dandy. Oh, my God, I got the best stuff! I had to go blue—I mean, whatever, we’re having a boy. The crib and dressing table are perfect—right, iAm?” The Shadow answered, “Perfect.” No doubt the poor bastard had no interest in the shit at all, but that didn’t matter. He was another one who had stuck by Beth and been her protector in the human world—and Wrath knew the why, of course. It was iAm’s way of paying the household back for letting him and his it’s-complicated brother stay at the mansion after their pad at the Commodore had been compromised. Plus, it was pretty obvi that he liked Beth in a nonromantic kind of way. “Right? I know, right?” Beth hugged Wrath’s neck so hard he couldn’t swallow. “I’m so excited! I want to meet him now!” “Is this nesting?” Wrath asked in the direction of where he’d heard Z’s voice last. “Yeah. And wait for it. You still have Diaper Genies and bottles to get through.” “We’re going Born Free,” Beth informed him, like he knew what that meant. “In case my milk doesn’t come in.” Wrath just sat down in the chair and arranged her on his lap, content to ease back and let her enjoy making her report. And the brothers and the fighters? They rallied right around, asking questions like big brothers would. Any one of them would have laid down his life for her or that young in her womb. It was enough to make a male have to blink a little faster.

And me? I'm still this battered, messed up wreck you left behind. Still a girl-shaped ruin, trying to reassemble in a world that ended the day you cursed me to my face. I'm still not over you, you fucking prick, but someday, God willing, I will be.

Just lookin' for a protector, God never reached out in time, There's love, then there's a savior, that ain't no love of mine. My love it kills me slowly, Slowly I could die, And when she sleeps she hears the blues, These shades of black and white. (Run, run, run away) (Run, run, run away)

Be true to God in everything that you say and do, don't be fake; don't shed crocodile tears, do not decieve anybody, do not conceal the truth because God sees everything, God knows all things, God is everywhere. You cannot hide from God. God will always reveal the truth against all odds. The world will see right through you..... Yeah... God Our Protector Keep My Faith:Biblical Verses 6, a book by Stellah Mupanduki.

I do this to the best of my ability and the critics criticize me critically but it's the mental mixed with spirituality. Thinking myself a higher being, knowing myself as a supreme. God chose this for me from the beginning and if there's anyone that has a problem with that, take it up with God and He'll put it to an ending. My protector forever always defending, it's the gift of Heaven He keeps sending.

My steps are ordered by the Almighty God. He’s my light and my protector. I love you Lord Jesus.

One of these advantages, as Laubardemont was quick to realize, consisted in this: that it was now possible (through the mouth of a devil who had been duly constrained in the presence of the Sacrament) to flatter the Cardinal in an entirely new and supernatural manner. In the minutes of an exorcism of May 20, 1634, written entirely in Laubardemont’s hand, we read the following: “Question: ‘What do you say about the great Cardinal, the protector of France?’ The devil answered, swearing by the name of God, ‘He is the scourge of all my good friends.’ Question: ‘Who are your good friends?’ Answer: ‘The heretics.’ Question: ‘What are the other heroic aspects of his person?’ Answer: ‘His work for the relief of the people, the gift of government, which he has received from God, his desire to preserve peace in Christendom, the single-minded love he bears to the King’s person.’” It was a handsome tribute and, coming as it did, direct from hell, it could be accepted as the simple truth.

I am Eggther, Protector of the egg. If you dare come near me, I will break your leg.” My mouth turned dry. Had the giant seen me? “Gouge out both your eyes And punch you in the throat. Squeeze you dry into a cup To make a blood-beer float.” Despite