Where the Light Fell

by Philip Yancey

I can never figure out how to have a friendly conversation with someone when my main point is that they are going to Hell.

It occurs to me that deconstructing a person is easier than constructing one.

In the churches of my youth, we sang about God’s grace, and yet I seldom felt it. I saw God as a stern taskmaster, eager to condemn and punish. I have come to know instead a God of love and beauty who longs for our wholeness.