I'm a man who believes that I died 20 years ago. And I live like a man who is dead already. I have no fear whatsoever of anybody or anything.
Pluralism is denied logically; inclusivism is denied scripturally, and that leaves us with exclusivism... you have to know that Jesus died and believe in it in order to be saved.
In truth, I barely knew my father at all. He was 53 when I was born, and when I was ten he contracted cancer. Eight years later, in 1979, he died.
And this is the eternal law. For, Evil often stops short at istelf and dies with the doer of it! but Good, never.
My experience in Iraq made me realize, and during the recovery, that I could have died. And I just had to do more with my life.
When my father died, I had a real experience with Christ, a real conversion with Christ and I had it in a Oneness church.
I was raised in the Baptist church... but I didn't really have a real committed experience with Christ until my father died.
Humor is imperative, more important than food. You have a choice when someone dies. You can lie down or get back into life. Do something for someone else.
I was 37 when my father died-and I no longer had any freedom of choice over what I would do with the rest of my life.
And I went to New York and died; for 10 years I walked those pavements. I can't think of New York without feeling uncomfortable and feeling like a failure.
I grew up in a very open-minded family. My father died when I was very little, so my mother was really, really incredibly busy trying to provide for us.
My reason for getting into the film business was a Spider-Man comic called 'The Night Gwen Stacy Died' when I was a kid; it changed my life.
My grandmother died in 1991 and I was born in '86. We only met once, but I didn't speak English and she didn't speak Spanish - so we had a communication problem.
Every three seconds in the developing world, a child dies needlessly due to lack of basic health care and other things we all take for granted.
My grandmother made her home at Fox How under the shelter of the fells, with her four daughters, the youngest of whom was only eight when their father died.
They died hard, those savage men - like wounded wolves at bay. They were filthy, and they were lousy, and they stunk. And I loved them.
As to the old history of Ireland, the first man ever died in Ireland was Partholan, and he is buried, and his greyhound along with him, at some place in Kerry.
When my father died in my arms it had such a profound affect on me that at that very moment when my dad passed I realized that I needed to face my own fears.
My grandfather, Harry, died when my dad was in his early 20s, so I never met him. Amazingly, he was 6ft tall. That gene definitely never filtered down to me!
My dad died when I was young; my mom remarried with more haste than sense to a fellow... he wasn't evil or anything, but he was worthless.
It's funny: All my friends back home are always wondering why every television show I'm on is a drama, but all the comedy pilots I did died a slow and painful death.
