A Step of Faith

A Step of Faith by Richard Paul Evans

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This is book #4 in the Walk series. It is my least favorite of the five books. A good portion of the book deals with an occult that Alan encounters. The entire scenario seems unlikely and the way Alan accepts the offer to go to the compound seems out of character for him. I wish Evans would have spent more time describing the towns he walked through especially sense he had enter my region of the country. With all of that said the book is a good read. The quotes below are mostly the quotes at the beginning of each chapter and may not make sense until you read the book.

Maybe, if we just accepted our deaths, we might finally start to live.

The strength of a friendship can be measured by the weight of the burden it’s willing to share. (If you want to test this just ask someone to help you move.)

“Wait and see” is no easier now than it was as a child.

I’m going home. Wherever that is these days.

I’ve never before realized that it’s a privilege to be allowed to make up for the hurt we’ve done in our lives. This is most evident to me now that I have broken a heart and not been allowed to pick up the pieces.

Roses can grow in slums just as weeds can grow around mansions.

I’ve returned to my childhood home. Little has changed, including my father. I don’t mean this derogatively. In a tumultuous sea a small anchor goes a long way.

Sometimes it seems as if my life has been more intermission than show.

Looking at someone’s brain is a little like looking at the outside of a movie theater.

I have become an expert at chasing those I love out of my life.

We have found Falene’s brother. I hope he knows where she is almost as much as I hope she doesn’t know where he is.

I’ve read that there are specific, predictable stages of grief. But there must be as many manifestations of those stages as there are bereft.

You should always be careful of what you say in parting.

I an back in St. Louis. I was so intent on resisting my father’s attempts to abort my walk that I ignored my own body’s warnings.

Everybody needs love. Everybody. Those who don’t believe that frighten me a little.

I have been taken in by a Pentecostal pastor who speaks openly of miracles and the “fruits of the spirit.” I don’t know if there are fewer miracles today or if, in times past, all unexplained phenomena was just ascribed to divine providence. It seems today that we see less spiritual fruit than religious nuts.

Everyone has suffered more than you know.

People can become so blinded by their own perceived victimhood that they make victims of everyone around them.

As Americans stopped building town squares and piazzas, Walmarts took their place.

We cannot enslave others without enslaving a part of ourselves.

I have so often compared my life to a whirlwind that I should not be surprised to find myself facing a real one.

Is it possible for those on the other side to intervene on our behalf? Millions of dollars have been spent on this very hope.

The storm has passed. As usual, the world looks deceivingly safe.

Our culture’s quest to hide behind a façade of denial has made fools and pretended immortals of us all. Perhaps it would be more helpful and liberating to begin each day by repeating the words of Crazy Horse, “Today is a good day to die.”

You can tell as much about a culture from their diet as from their literature. Sometimes, perhaps, more.

Missouri calls itself the “Show Me” state. I’m not sure if they’re claiming skepticism or voyeurism.

To challenge the rules of conventionality is to open ourselves to an entirely new universe. One cannot pioneer new worlds from old trails.

For centuries the spiritually seeking have asked God for a sign. Perhaps that’s why there’s so many of them planted out front of southern churches.

Elvis may have left the building, but some of the audience have kept their seats.

Some towns, like people, seem to attract history. I suppose this is as much a curse as it is a blessing.

Today I walked through Tupelo, Elvis’s birthplace. Those who wish a magnified life should remember that no one is born great. No one. Every entertainer began in the audience. This is encouraging. Elvis began life in a sharecropper’s shack. Lincoln, a log cabin. Jesus a manger.

Those willing to trade freedom for certainty are certain to find the cure worse than the ailment.

The shackles of belief, when reinforced by fear, are difficult to break free from and rarely done.

Sometimes we can only find ourselves by first losing ourselves.

I’m beginning to pick up the language down here. “Jeet?” means, “Have you eaten?” A “far truck” is useful in putting out “fars.” “Bard” is past tense of borrow. There are four “tars” on a truck and “did” is the opposite of alive. Shopping carts are “buggies,” and “Wal-Mart’n” is a pleasant pastime.

I’m not a fan of boiled peanuts. Just because you can boil something doesn’t mean you should.

Some so fear the future that they suffocate the present. It’s like committing suicide to avoid being murdered.

Why did the man cross America? To see what was on the other side of himself.

A good read should introduce new drama in each chapter. But that’s just in books. What may be enjoyable in literature is not so in real life.

Again, my world is in commotion. The only thing that hasn’t changed in my life is the uncertainly of it all.

In the beginning, I had considered these stops on my journey as interruptions – but I’m coming to understand that perhaps these detours are my journey.

Life is not a sprint. It was never meant to be. It is just a step of faith after another.

The depth of love is revealed in its departure.

If you enjoy a good read you will love this series!

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