Souvenirs of Solitude: Finding Rest in Abba's Embrace by Brennan Manning

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Let the prayer of Nikos Kazantzakis arise from our hearts as a passionate pitch of loving awareness: I am a bow in your hands, Lord. Draw me, lest I rot. Do not overdraw me, Lord. I shall break. Overdraw me, Lord, and who cares if I break?

Souvenirs of Solitude: Finding Rest in Abba's Embrace by Brennan Manning

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"Were you grieved by the divine command to Abraham that he slay his only begotten son Isaac on Mount Moriah? Were you relieved when the angel intervened, Abraham's hand was stayed, and the sacrifice was not carried out? Have you forgotten that on Good Friday no angel intervened, that sacrifice was carried out, and it was not the heart of Abraham that was broken?

Souvenirs of Solitude: Finding Rest in Abba's Embrace by Brennan Manning

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(Commenting on Luke 15:11-32 - The story of the prodigal son):

The emphasis is not on the sinfulness of the son but on the generosity of the father. We ought to reread this parable periodically if only to catch the delicate nuance at the first meeting between the two. The son had his little speech of sorrow carefully rehearsed. It was an elegant, polished statement of sorrow. But the old man didn't let him finish it. The son had barely arrived on the scene when suddenly a fine new robe was thrown over his shoulders. He heard music, the fatted calf was being carried into the parlor, and he didn't even have a chance to say to his father, "I'm sorry." The theme is that God wants us back even more than we could possibly want to be back and that we don't have to go into great detail about our sorrow. All you have to do, the parable says, is appear on the scene; before you get a chance to run away again, the Father grabs you by your new robe and pulls you into the banquet so you can't get away.

The Rabbi's Heartbeat by Brennan Manning

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Simon Tugwell, in his book the Beatitudes, explains: We either flee our own reality or manufacture a false self which is mostly admirable, mildly prepossessing, and superficially happy. We hide what we know or feel ourselves to be (which we assume to be unacceptable and unlovable) behind some kind of appearance which we hope will be more pleasing. We hide behind pretty faces, which we put on for the benefit of our public. And in time we may even forget that we are hiding, and think that our assumed pretty face is what we really look like.