Returning to ourselves is confusing at first. It's not as simple as listening for the voices inside of us. Because sometimes the voices inside of us,… - Glennon Doyle

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Returning to ourselves is confusing at first. It's not as simple as listening for the voices inside of us. Because sometimes the voices inside of us, which we've assumed speak Truth, are just the voices of human beings who told us what to believe. Often the internal voice telling us who God is and what God approves of is not God; it's our indoctrination. It's an echo of the voice of a teacher, a parent, a preacher — someone who has claimed to represent God to us. Many of those people have been well meaning, and others have only sought to control us. Either way, not a single one of them has been God's appointed spokesperson. Not a single one of them has more God in her than you do. There is no church that owns God. There is no religion that owns God. There are no gatekeepers. None of this is that easy. There is no outsourcing your faith. There is just you and God. Some of the hardest and most important work of our lives is learning to separate the voices of teachers from wisdom, propaganda from truth, fear from love and in this case: the voices of God's self-appointed representatives from the voice of God Herself. When choosing between something you Know and something other people taught you to believe, choose what you Know. As Whitman said, "Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul." Having the courage to dismiss what insults your soul is a matter of life or death.

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Additional quotes by Glennon Doyle

I knew what she'd tell me. She'd say, "Something's off about my life. I feel restless and frustrated. I have this hunch that everything was supposed to be more beautiful than this. I imagine fenceless, wide-open savannas. I want to run and hunt and kill. I want to sleep under an ink-black, silent sky filled with stars. It's all so real I can taste it." Then she'd look back at the cage, the only home she's ever known. She'd look at the smiling zookeepers, the bored spectators, and her panting, bouncing, begging best friend, the Lab. She'd sigh and say, "I should be grateful. I have a good enough life here. It's crazy to long for what doesn't even exist." I'd say: Tabitha. You are not crazy. You are a goddamn cheetah.

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