It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points how the strong
man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit
belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust
and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly…who knows the great enthusiasms,
the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows
the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least
fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold
and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
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I'm motivated to join God in his global reclamation project. He's on the move, setting his sons and daughters free from their places of captivity. And he's partnering with those of us who have been freed to go and free others.
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Amen!Does anyone have any spare armor they could lend me? 🙂
you already have the armor, sue. Now, go get dirty!
I was just seeing a patient in the hospital, previously healthy early 50’s with a massive stroke, and she’s now basically brain dead. I sat there thinking, “what the h*** am I doing with my life”. What am I doing of any eternal significance. Nothing like a cold splash of death to bring you back to the reality of the life and death struggle. How often is my armor sitting, nice, clean, gleaming, in the closet, going unused. I need to get my hands dirty and get living. It really is life and death. Thanks for the reminder.