“Sometimes when we say "God is silent," what's really going on is that he hasn't told the story the way we wanted it told. He will be silent when we want him to fill in the blanks of the story we are creating. But with his own stories, the ones we live in, he is seldom silent.”

“God is often silent when we prefer that he speak and he interrupts us when we prefer that he stay silent. His ways are not our ways. To live with the sacred God of creation means that we conduct our lives with a God who does not explain himself to us. It means that we worship a God who is often mysterious - too mysterious to fit our formulas for better living. It means that God is not our best friend our secret lover or our good-luck charm. He is God.”

“Some people think we’re made of flesh and blood and bones. Scientists say we’re made of atoms. But I think we are made of stories. When we die, that’s what people remember, the stories of our lives and the stories that we told.”

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Adam asked as we went back upstairs.“Sometime,” I told him. “When we're telling ghost stories around a campfire, and I want to scare you.”

“But surely he had told that story before. All of us, we tell our stories over and over again. Not in the same way and we don't always recognize them for what they are, the same way we don't always recognize that all creation myths boil down to God and man and a thunderstorm.”

“And yet--we wonder.What if how we are told it happened is not how it happened? What if the story we have been told is just that? A story. Not the truth.”