Contribute fear to the cause and the effect shall be illness. Contribute faith to the cause and the effect shall be healing.
Might we remember what God has saved us from in the past so that we might be saved from our fear of the future.
God forgives, so we may learn to fear Him.
Fundamentalism is rooted in arrogance. It thrives in fear and control and darkness.
As soon as fear replaces faith, God can no longer answer our prayers or fight on our behalf, because His promises will not work apart from faith.
God isn't looking for perfection. He is seeking men and women with faith greater than fear.
I am terrified by the horrors that lurk all around me. But it would do me good to remember that those same horrors are terrified by the God who resides within me.
It is in boldly unleashing our faith that we effectively leash our fears.
It was that initial leap of utter faith, that initial lurch into motion, that had my limbs locking up.
The fear of a man is a snare. But faith in the Maker is secured heaven.
Whatever a man fears he will worship. If you fear poverty, you will eventually worship money.
Writing is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down and it's something that happens, or it may not happen. So, how can you teach anybody how to write? It's beyond me, because you yourself don't even know if you're going to be able to. I'm always worried, well, you know, every time I go upstairs with my wine bottle. Sometimes I'll sit at that typewriter for fifteen minutes, you know. I don't go up there to write. The typewriter's up there. If it doesn't start moving, I say, well this could be the night that I hit the dust.
The best work that anybody ever writes is the work that is on the verge of embarrassing him, always.
To write as if your life depended on it; to write across the chalkboard, putting up there in public the words you have dredged; sieved up in dreams, from behind screen memories, out of silence-- words you have dreaded and needed in order to know you exist.
She said she never wanted to have secrets from me nor from herself, which is why she wanted to write down everything that otherwise would be hard to talk about. As I said, later I understood that someone who flees into honesty like that fears something, fears that her life will fill with something that can no longer be shared, a genuine secret, indescribable, unutterable.
As always, the blessed relief of starting, a feeling that was like falling into a hole filled with bright light. As always, the glum knowledge that he would not write as well as he wanted to write. As always the terror of not being able to finish, of accelerating into a brick wall. As always, the marvelous joyful nervy feeling of journey begun.
I've met talespinners before, Jake, and they're all cut more or less from the same cloth. They tell tales because they're afraid of life.
But that inadequacy, or feeling of inadequacy, never really goes away. You just have to trudge ahead in the rain, regardless.
And I think that in myself (and perhaps evident in what I write) fear of loss and the corresponding instinct to protect myself against loss are potent forces.
Fear is felt by writers at every level. Anxiety accompanies the first word they put on paper and the last.
