Jan Karon Quotes

As long as you have any floor space at all, you have room for books! Just make two stacks of books the same height, place them three or four feet apart, lay a board across them, and repeat. Voila! Bookshelves!

Lord, make me a blessing to someone today.

I'd like you to know that I've forgiven him. Again and again. Once done, of course, back comes the Enemy to persecute and prosecute, and I must ante up to God and forgive yet again.

One of the things that makes a dead leaf fall to the ground is the bud of the new leaf that pushes it off the limb.

The firefly only shines when on the wing, So it is with us--when we stop, we darken.

Easter is never deserved.

I believe that's when God first started speaking to my heart--the very day I started speaking to His!

Phillipians 4:13 for Pete's sake!

Well, I'm going to church. But i've got to tell you that it's full of hypocrites. My friend, if you keep your eyes on Christians, you will be disappointed every day of your life. Your hope is to keep your eyes on Christ.

Are you reading your Bible?" Ah, well...I was." And then you quit." You got it." Then, you can expect to be weak on one of your flanks, and that's precisely where the Enemy will come after you with a vengeance.

There may be circumstances in this life that God uses to keep bringing us back to Him, looking for His grace.

Sorrow and joy, he thought, so inextricably entwined that he could scarcely tell where one left off and the other began.

In Ireland there’s no such thing as bad weather ~~~ only the wrong clothes.

In World War One, they called it shell shock. Second time around, they called it battle fatigue. After 'Nam, it was post-traumatic stress disorder.

Loving can be hard. Sometimes we don't feel loving, but it isn't all about feeling. Very often it is about will. Practice that if you can.

Love is an act of endless forgiveness.

Give me faith, Lord, to know Your Presence as surely as I know the beating of my own heart. I've felt so far from You....

...weary of k knowing too much and understanding too little.

Alis volat propiss. (She flies with her own wings.)

When the trees and the power lines crashed around you, when the very roof gave way above you, when the light turned to darkness and water turned to dust, did you call on Him? When you called on Him, was He somewhere up there, or was He as near as your very breath?

I can't say I have any confidence in confidence. I have confidence that God is with us in all things, both tender and tough.

When we turn from our sin, and have the blessed forgiveness of the Almighty, then we can ask Him to run things, and let Him be in charge.

Listening is among the most generous ways to give. When a loved one talks to us— whether their words appear to be deep or shallow— listen. For in some way, they are baring their souls.

I worried too much about what others thought—I can tell you it’s a tragic waste of time and energy and pokes God in the eye.

Don't fear whatever God lays before you today.

But “common sense is not faith,” Oswald Chambers had written, “and faith is not common sense.

We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God.

Love is an endless act of forgiveness.

Sometimes you have to gag on fancy before you can appreciate plain, th' way I see it. For too many years, I ate fancy, I dressed fancy, I talked fancy. A while back, I decided to start talkin' th' way I was raised t' talk, and for th' first time in forty years, I can understand what I'm sayin'.

He turned away for a moment, smacked by the beauty of complete surprise.

In everything, give thanks.

God does not humiliate the righteous. He may fire us in the kiln to make us vessels, crush us like grapes so we become wine--but He never humiliates. That is the game of little people.

Thank you, God, for loving me, and for sending your Son to die for my sins. I sincerely repent of my sins, and receive Christ as my personal savior. Now, as your child, I turn my entire life over to you. Amen.

Father, make me a blessing to someone today, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

No matter how far we travel, the memories will follow in the baggage car.

Everywhere I have sought rest and not found it, except sitting in a corner by myself with a book.

Go, and be as the butterfly

Love is an actual need, an urgent requirement of the heart," he read aloud from an old essay on marriage that he found in his files. "Every properly constituted human being who entertains an appreciation of loneliness...and looks forward to happiness and content feels the necessity of loving. Without it, life is unfinished...

I've got a lot to download on your mercy and grace. I've always rushed up to You and dumped whatever it was and hurried away, fascinated by my own busyness. I want to turn all this over to You slowly, carefully, examining every fragment as I pass it off, so there'll never be any question about it again. Every time I've dumped and run, I've nearly always run back and snatched it out of Your hands. Help me in this.......Right now, I'm certain of only one thing - that You love us, and that's where we all have to begin.

I thought of you when I read this quote from "Come Rain or Come Shine (A Mitford Novel)" by Jan Karon - "Listening is among the most generous ways to give. When a loved one talks to us— whether their words appear to be deep or shallow— listen. For in some way, they are baring their souls.

I have just four words to leave with you. Four words that have spoken volumes of truth into my life.' He wanted the words to stay in the room, to remain long after he had gone. Though no one wished to hear Paul's radical injunction, it had to be told. 'In everything, give thanks.' This was the lifeboat in any crisis. Over and over again, he had learned this, and over and over again, he had to be reminded.

In his bachelor's heart of hearts, he loved pie with an intensity that alarmed him. Yet, when he was offered seconds, he usually refused. "Wouldn't you like another piece of this nice coconut pie, Father?" he might be asked. "No, I don't believe I'd care for anymore," he'd say. An outright lie!

Father Tim: Know that God has a plan for your future. Watch and wait for his timing, and when it comes, hitch a ride. You'll know.

To do it all and deprive others of doing is...a misguided notion.

The windows were open to morning air embroidered with birdsong.

There are three stages in the work of God: impossible, difficult, done.

You could tell a lot about people who would stop what they were doing to watch the Almighty go about His business.

Rejoice! Know that I am with you and for you and will never leave you; take courage that I will fight for you and be your shield and buckler and provide for you when you are old; I will supply your every need, I will give you victory over death, I have prepared a place for you in heaven

Boldly! That was the great and powerful key. Preach boldly! Love boldly! Jog boldly! And most crucial of all, do not approach God whining or begging, but boldly—as a child of the King. “I

The rector wondered if the joy that people seemed so expert at containing somehow transferred to their dogs, who had nothing at all to hide.

We must stop listening to voices from the past--and we must stop immediately.--Father Tim

Every saint has a past, the sixteenth-century poet had said, and every sinner has a future.

Why can't life always be lived under the stars,' she said, 'with great music and family and friends?

If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven, Then, to the measure of that heaven-born light, Shine, Poet! In thy place, and be content. . . —WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Mitford would simply like to be the pause that refreshes.’

All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art. JL Borges

Don’t feel totally, personally, irrevocably responsible for everything. That’s my job. Signed, God.

RATS-IN-A-POKE!

My friend, if you keep your eyes on Christians, you will be disappointed every day of your life. Your hope is to keep your eyes on Christ.

One of the things that makes a dead leaf fall to the ground is the bud of the new leaf that pushes it off the limb. When you let God fill you with His love and forgiveness, the things you think you desperately want to hold on to start falling away . . . and we hardly notice their passing.

He remembered the gravestone of a woman parishioner in the churchyard of St. John's in the Grove. DEMURE AT LAST, it read. He thought that the single most definitive and amusing epitaph he'd ever come across.

He eyed in the far corner of the room the carton of books they'd schlepped across the pond(ocean) They were both fearful of being stuck without a decent book, and who knew they would find everything from Virgil to Synge on the shelves of a fishing lodge?

Was he willing to blend into the life of another human being for the rest of his days, and have hers blend into his? That, of course, was the Bible’s bottom line on marriage: one flesh. Not separate entities, not two autonomous beings merely coming together at dinnertime or brushing past one another in the hallway, holding on to their singleness, guarding against invasion. One flesh!" (p. 207).

For one thing, telling a lie is like eating peanuts. One leads to another. In no time at all, you’ve gone through a bagful.” He rinsed the razor under the tap. “Worst of all, you become a slave to something that isn’t real.

One must begin somewhere, sometime, to let go of the bitterness, or be eaten alive and the marrow sucked out.

...I've forgiven him. Again and again. Once done, of course, back comes the Enemy to persecute and prosecute, and I must ante up to God and forgive yet again.

Your goodness to me has been overwhelming. How tender you are, though I am often as tough as gristle. How patiently you have loved me since you made up your mind to love me always.

...but I tell you now that it's not too late---no matter how deep the wound. (Regarding forgiveness)

... for fog was merely a cloud that wasn't too smitten with itself to visit terra firma.

Knitting, he thought, was a comfort to the soul.

The waters hold all heaven within their heart.

He liked familiar things, things that had been worn in by good people, people he could trust.

We don’t have to do great things to make a difference. We can make a great difference by doing small things graciously.

I have never seen so many ugly dresses. I cannot find this dress, which was woven out of daydreams and naiveté.

We are not necessarily doubting,” said C. S. Lewis, “that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.” He

Make it a rule never to give a child a book you would not read yourself.—George Bernard Shaw

Many things I have tried to grasp, and have lost. That which I have placed in God's hands I still have. - Martin Luther

Knitting, he thought, was a comfort to the soul. It was regular. It was repetitious. And, in the end, it amounted to something.

Paul said in the second epistle...the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine...they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires, and will turn from the truth and wander away to myths.

Stop trying to protect, to rescue, to judge, to manage the lives around you . . . remember that the lives of others are not your business. They are their business. They are God’s business—even your own life is not your business. It is also God’s business!’ Frederick Buechner

The standing fields [ready to harvest]were the legions who hadn't filled their God-vacuum with the One who was born to fill it; the standing fields were those who waited for someone to reach out and speak the truth, and tell them how they might be saved.

He was praying the Psalms, as he'd done in times past, with the enemies of King David translated into his own enemies of fear and remorse and self-loathing, which, in their legions, had become as armies of darkness.

It was a wonderful life. To have a stage play right in this room, with real people acting real parts.

He liked being in a place where everything from forgetfulness to homicide might be blamed on the heat.

in peace, God is awake.

Maybe it's because he never had any control over what was happening to him as a boy. Being late was somehow a way of taking charge.

Faith by its very nature must be tried... what God does with our faith must be something like workouts. He sees it to that our faith gets mushed and pulled, stretched and pounded, taken to it's limits so its limits can expand... If it doesn't get exercised, it becomes like a weak muscle that fails us when we need it.

She thought that one of the hardest parts of marriage was being loving when both partners were exhausted or wounded at the same time. When you had the least strength, that’s when you had to dig beyond your limits and grab whatever could be found and give it away.

Merry Christmas!' someone shouted. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 'Merry Christmas!' 'Merry Christmas!' 'C-cookies for ever'body!' Sammy hollered. And looking both ways, they all fled across to the light, and the warmth, and the books, and the mystery.

Bodily fatigue, which nearly always accompanies this hateful malady, can wear down the spirit. And how can the Holy Spirit work with a vessel that’s leaking as fast as he can fill it?" "If I know you," the bishop continued, kindly, "you are not resting. You are not recreating.

To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard ; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common—this is my symphony.

When his flock thronged into the midnight service, there was wonder on every face at the newly hung greens and the softly flickering candles on each windowsill. To the simple beauty of the historic church was added fresh, green hope, the lush scent of flowers in winter, and candle flame that cast its flickering shadows over the congregation like a shawl.

Father, he prayed silently, thank you for sending this boy into my life. Thank you for the joy and the sorrow he brings. Be with him always, to surround him with right influences, and when tests of any kind must come, give him wisdom and strength to act according to your will. Look over his mother, also, and the other children, wherever they are. Feed and clothe them, keep them from harm, and bring them one day into a full relationship with your Son.

Be thankful for the smallest blessing,” Thomas à Kempis had written, “and you will deserve to receive greater. Value the least gifts no less than the greatest, and simple graces as especial favors. If you remember the dignity of the Giver, no gift will seem small or mean, for nothing can be valueless that is given by the most high God.” Father

To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard ; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common—this is my symphony. William Henry Channing, clergyman, reformer, 1810-1884

I learned over a long period of trial and error to see in him what God made him to be. Wounded people use a lot of smoke and mirrors, they thrust the bitterness and rage out there like a shield. Then it becomes their banner, and finally, their weapon. But I stopped falling for the bitterness and rage. I didn’t stop knowing it was there—and there for a very good reason—but I stopped taking the bullet for it. With God’s help, I was able to start seeing through the smoke.

Go and be as the butterfly! Dooley grinned. You've said that as long as I can remember. I'm not pulling up what it means. It was what God had said to him, a small-town clergyman, another lifetime a go, and what he had tried and was still trying to do. I think it means to go unfettered by cares, by the infernal bondage of the mortal. Go with a light heart, trusting God and giving thanks. Go and gather unto yourselves so you can pour out to others. He took a deep breath. Go without looking back.

Oh, Timothy, how could you not have loved someone all these years? Loving absolutely seeps from you, like a spring that bubbles up in a meadow.” “Maybe you can convince me of that, but I doubt it. I find myself niggardly and self-seeking, hard as stone somewhere inside. Look how I’ve treated you.” “Yes, but you could never deceive me into thinking you were hard as stone. You’ve always betrayed your tenderness to me, something in your face, your eyes, your voice ...” “Then I have no cover with you?” “Very little.” “ ‘Violet only wanted a friend,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘but every time she tried to have one, she did something that chased them away.

Did I tell you how much I liked your sermon on Sunday?” “You did not, or I would have remembered it.” “Well, it was glorious. You were very bold, I thought, to preach on sin. Hardly anyone wants to hear sin preached.” “Mainstream Christianity glosses over the fact that it isn’t just a question of giving up sin, but of doing something far more difficult—giving up our right to ourselves.” He made the turn onto the busy highway toward Wesley, which always, somehow, seemed a shock to his senses. “The sin life in us must be transformed into the spiritual life.” “How?” “Through sacrifice and obedience.” She smiled ironically. “How do you think that will be received by those of us who come to sit in a comfortable pew and find a hot seat instead? “They’ll just have to go across the street until I’ve finished preaching on that particular subject.” She laughed with delight. “You’re different these days.” He laughed with her. “I pray so,” he said.

Quote from Father Tim during a sermon given after the former priest was found after a suicide attempt. "      'Father Talbot has charged me to tell you that he is deeply repentant for not serving you as God appointed him to do, and as you hoped and needed him to do.         'He wished very much to bring you this message himself, but he could not.  He bids you goodbye with a love he confesses he never felt toward you...until this day.  He asks--and I quote him--that you might find it in your hearts to forgive him his manifold sins against God and this parish.'         He felt the tears on his face before he knew he was weeping, and realized instinctively that he would have no control over the display.  He could not effectively carry on, no even turn his face away or flee the pulpit.  He was in the grip of a wild grief that paralyzed everything but itself.          He wept face forward, then, into the gale of those aghast at what was happening, wept for the wounds of any clergy gone out into a darkness of self-loathing and beguilement; for the loss and sorrow of those who could not believe, or who had once believed but lost all sense of shield and buckler and any notion of God's radical tenderness, for the ceaseless besettings of the flesh, for the worthless idols of his own and of others; for those sidetracked, stumped, frozen, flung away, for those both false and true, the just and the unjust, the quick and the dead.           He wept for himself, for the pain of the long years and the exquisite satisfactions of the faith, for the holiness of the mundane, for the thrashing exhaustions and the endless dyings and resurrectings that malign the soul incarnate.           It had come to this, a thing he had subtly feared for more than forty years--that he would weep before the many--and he saw that his wife would not try to talk him down from this precipice, she would trust him to come down himself without falling or leaping.         And people wept with him, most of them.  Some turned away, and a few got up and left in a hurry, fearful of the swift and astounding movement of the Holy Spirit among them, and he, too, was afraid--of crying aloud in a kind of ancient howl and humiliating himself still further.  But the cry burned out somewhere inside and he swallowed down what remained and the organ began to play, softly, piously.  He wished it to be loud and gregarious, at the top of its lungs--Bach or Beethoven, and not the saccharine pipe that summoned the vagabond sins of thought, word, and deed to the altar, though come to think of it, the rail was the very place to be right now, at once, as he, they, all were desperate for the salve of the cup, the Bread of Heaven.             And then it was over.  He reached into the pocket of his alb and wondered again how so many manage to make in this world without carrying a handkerchief.  And he drew it out and wiped his eyes and blew his nose as he might at home, and said, 'Amen.'                 And the people said, 'Amen.