Mugs With Bible Quotes

But I’m gay and in a relationship with a hot Viking king and we have a bible thumper… thumping his bible against our bedroom wall… so what if we got carried away? It’s a vacation for us.” Levi took a long sip from his mug before turning his trademark smirk up a few megawatts. “What’s your excuse?

Telushkin makes a compelling argument that people with bad tempers who tell themselves they cannot control their anger are usually deceiving themselves: Mugging victims, for example, feel intense anger at their mugger, but virtually all of them—even those with bad tempers—politely hand over their money rather than curse or fight the attacker. They control their behavior, proving they can do so—when they want to. Telushkin offers a second example: If people with anger issues were offered a million dollars to significantly reduce the number of times they expressed excessive anger over a six-month period, most would become adept at controlling their temper. But in the absence of million-dollar incentives, people destroy marriages, family relationships, and friendships—things worth far more than a million dollars.

I’m drawn to music that’s more earnest than tidy, art that’s more ragged than orderly, people who are just a touch more honest than is strictly appropriate for the situation. I’m finished hustling for perfect. It didn’t deliver what they told me it would. And so, instead: present. If perfect is plastic, present is rich, loamy soil. It’s fresh bread, lumpy and warm. It’s real and tactile and something you can hold with both hands, something rich and warm. Present is a face bare of makeup, a sweater you’ve loved for a decade, a mug that reminds you of who you used to be. It’s the Bible with the battered cover, the journal filled with scribbled, secret dreams. It isn’t pretty, necessarily—it isn’t supposed to be. Present is living with your feet firmly grounded in reality, pale and uncertain as it may seem. Present is choosing to believe that your own life is worth investing deeply in, instead of waiting for some rare miracle or fairy tale. Present means we understand that the here and now is sacred, sacramental, threaded through with divinity even in its plainness. Especially in its plainness. Present over perfect living is real over image, connecting over comparing, meaning over mania, depth over artifice. Present over perfect living is the risky and revolutionary belief that the world God has created is beautiful and valuable on its own terms, and that it doesn’t need to be zhuzzed up and fancy in order to be wonderful.

Where should this leave us? In gratitude. True, we seldom if ever think of it – of the horror and pain the Lord’s servants endured in order to be the vehicles through whom his word is passed on to us in the Scriptures. We sit comfortably at our desks or tables with a companionable mug of coffee, read the prophets, and scarcely think of how Daniel was physically and emotionally wiped out or Ezekiel plunged into a mental morass of anguish and anger (Ezek. 3:14–15) – in short, of how much the word of God cost them.

If perfect is plastic, present is rich, loamy soil. It’s fresh bread, lumpy and warm. It’s real and tactile and something you can hold with both hands, something rich and warm. Present is a face bare of makeup, a sweater you’ve loved for a decade, a mug that reminds you of who you used to be. It’s the Bible with the battered cover, the journal filled with scribbled, secret dreams. It isn’t pretty, necessarily – it isn’t supposed to be.