"Do your best. Live. Create. Fail.
How many thieves can we fit on this cross?
How many of us can be dead in Lazarus’s tomb?
Is there room for more dry bones in this valley?
Because I could lie down.
I can complain in a wilderness.
Or maybe deny Christ three times?
Resent the righteous? Shoo away some children?
Fail to grow figs?
Panic in a storm?
Forget God’s law?
Pursue my lusts?
Sell out my Maker?
Hang myself in a field?
So glad I could help.
And from it all, from the compost of our efforts, God brings glory—a world of ripe grain in the wind. By His grace, we are the water made wine. We are the dust made flesh made dust made flesh again. We are the whores made brides and the thieves made saints and the killers made apostles. We are the dead made living. We are His cross."
-N.D. Wilson, Death by Living