Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 39

When a Northerner Eats a Boiled Peanut – A Lesson on Marriage

As a Red-Sox-cheering, New-York-Yankees-hating Rhode Islander, baseball and roasted peanuts have long been a part of my history. Baseball was king in the little harbor town where I grew up. Many a night I'd fall asleep to the sounds of late game broadcasts from Fenway Park. 

When we couldn’t catch a game on TV, we’d feed our insatiable appetites by cheering for the VFW team in the field across from our house and eating sacks of roasted peanuts.


In ninth grade, I was in luuuuv with #16, the cute second baseman with shaggy hair and a shy smile. I don’t know if he could hear us cheering for him from the stands, but I imagined he could. 

When the other team was at bat, my friends and I would climb down from the bleachers, buy a cup of Del’s Frozen Lemonade and a bag of roasted peanuts from the concession stand and return to our seats, leaving a trail of peanut shells behind us. The heavenly trifecta of hot, salty, and crunchy made roasted peanuts the baseball food of the gods. 

Then I moved to the South. Far, far away from #16, baseball, and roasted peanuts.

I thought things were looking up the day we visited my Aunt Leila in the tiny town of Sandy Run, South Carolina. Uncles, aunts, and cousins had gathered for the annual pig pickin’ (my first) and to welcome their long-lost family members back home. Standing awkwardly in the kitchen making small talk with a cousin, I glanced around the room. There in the center of the wooden picnic table was a bowl of peanuts. 

Yesssss! 

I grabbed one, split its shell, and popped the peanuts into my mouth. But instead of the hot, crunchy goodness I expected, something cold and slimy hit the back of my tongue, activated my gag reflex, and launched the offending legume from my mouth. 

Whooah, I thought, that was a bad peanut.

I grabbed another, split its shell, and tossed the nuts into my mouth. Like a recurring nightmare, the slimy pellets crossed my tongue and headed toward the back of my throat until a mighty heave sent them back from whence they’d come. 

Yuck! Must have been a bad batch. 

Like a detective at a crime scene, I approached the bowl a third time – slowly. And saw what I’d missed on the previous two encounters. Instead of parched white shells, these peanuts had wet brown ones. They were soft and slimy, too. I pressed the seam that ran the length of the nut. Cold brine squished out and ran down my wrist. Instead of dry, confetti paper skins that crumbled beneath my touch, these skins were stuck to the nuts like a wet diaper to a baby’s bottom. Underneath the brown wrapper, the peanuts were pale and shriveled. 

What, in heaven’s name, was wrong with these peanuts? 

I’ve since learned that while boiled peanuts and roasted peanuts are cousins, they’re not kissing cousins. As different as the city mouse and the country mouse, the two bear little resemblance to each other. 

It took me three attempts on three different occasions to develop a taste for boiled peanuts. In the process, I discovered an important principle about marriage. It’s all a matter of expectations. When I expected boiled peanuts to taste like roasted peanuts, I was disappointed (and disgusted) every time. Once I set aside my expectation of how a peanut should taste, I was free to accept (and even appreciate) the other varieties of peanuts. In this case, a boiled peanut, not a roasted one. 


[image error] Gary Thomas, author of the book and marriage Bible study, Cherish , says, “Cherishing in marriage is learning to appreciate the particular spouse God has given us. It’s about understanding their beauty and letting them be your heart’s home.” 

“Cherishing our spouse is all about learning the particulars about that person. It involves throwing away the stereotypes and asking the question, ‘How do I cherish this unique person that God has made?’” 

After almost 35 years of marriage, I’m still learning to value the unique qualities of my husband. Instead of expecting him to be quick and decisive, I’m learning to appreciate him as patient and methodical. Instead of expecting him to be serious, introspective, and task-oriented, I’m learning to appreciate him as fun-loving, carefree, and people-oriented. 

Accepting my husband as a boiled peanut instead of expecting him to be a roasted peanut frees me to enjoy the unique person God has created him to be. This helps me cherish (not just tolerate) him. As we cherish each other, we pave the way for contentment. Contentment fosters an environment of love and mutual admiration. When we love and affirm each other, we position ourselves to become all God wants us to be. This is one of the beautiful parts of marriage. 

“It is not good for a man to be alone,” God said, “I’ll make a helper for him.” 

And now, back to peanuts. A few weeks ago my husband and I ate at Five Guys. Waiting for our burgers, he noticed a bin of roasted peanuts and a sign that said Please enjoy a snack while you wait. “Would you like some?” he asked. 

“No thanks,” I said after a moment’s thought. “I think I prefer boiled peanuts.” 

Imagine that. 

Now it’s your turn. What characteristic about your husband have you learned to appreciate over the years? How has that changed how you think about him? Leave a comment below and share your story. If you’re reading by email, click HERE to visit Hungry for God online and leave a comment.





Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
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Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

What to Do When the Task Is Great and Your Strength Is Small

Of all the men and women we read about in the Bible, with whom do you most identify? 

Maybe you’re a prayer warrior like Daniel (and can tell a few stories about being thrown into the lion’s den for it). 

Or perhaps Peter could be your Bible double because you act first and think later. 

Many feel a heart connection to Martha, the busy lady who forgot that spending time with Jesus is even more important than doing stuff for him. 

Today, as I read the story of Gideon, I found myself nodding in empathy and identification. I get Gideon, because I often live in his skin. 

You may remember that Gideon lived during the time of the judges, Israel’s yoyo period when they vacillated between serving God and serving idols. When we join the narrative in Judges 6, the Israelites were again serving idols – and suffering at the hands of their oppresive neighbors, the Midianites. 

Like teenagers at an all-you-can-eat buffet, the Midianite raiders would descend on Israel at harvest time, consuming their crops and destroying their fields and farms. “So Israel became poverty-stricken because of Midian” (Judges 6:6 CSB). 

“So the Israelites cried out to the Lord.” 

In his mercy, God answered their prayers by appearing to Gideon, a weak-faithed skeptic. “The Lord is with you, valiant warrior,” the Angel of the Lord said. 

“If the Lord is with us,” Gideon cynically replied, “why has all this happened? And where are all his wonders that our fathers told us about? . . . the Lord has abandoned us and handed us over to Midian” (v. 13). 

Notice how Gideon failed to mention they’d been thumbing their noses at God and serving false idols for years before God finally took corrective action. Hardship had driven Gideon and his kinsman to cry out to the Lord, but their prayers were motivated by desperation, not devotion. 

Like Gideon, I’m often guilty of this sin. Yet God is tender-hearted and merciful. He revealed his plan to deliver the Israelites from their oppressors. And he chose Gideon as the point man. 

“Go in the strength you have and deliver Israel from the grasp of Midian. I am sending you!” 


“Whaaaaat? Me?” Gideon cried. “How can I deliver Israel? Look, my family is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the youngest in my father’s family.” 

“Go in the strength you have,” the Lord replied. 

I’ve noticed that God often calls us to tasks too big for us Caring for a sick loved one, parenting a rebellious teenager, staying faithful in a loveless marriage Facing a life-threatening illness, overcoming an addiction, or putting the pieces of your home back together after a tragedy.  

The Christian’s calling to integrity, perseverance, joy, and hope is lofty and difficult. Yet he calls us to go in the strength we have – puny and weak though it is. 

“But I will be with you,” (v. 16) God promises. “You will be victorious.” 

Some mornings, like Gideon, I look at the demands of my life and all God has called me to do. “I’m too weak,” I say. “I’m weary, and I’m frail. I can’t do this.”God acknowledges my words and agrees with me. 

Then, like a parent watching his child struggle to lift a suitcase far too heavy, he places his hand over mine. Infusing my weakness with his strength, we lift the burden and move forward – together. 

Are you facing something too big for you to handle on your own today? Is your strength too small for the mighty task that faces you? Then according to God and Gideon, you are poised for victory. 

“Go in the strength you have,” God says, “and I will be with you.” 

Now it’s your turn. When have you faced something far too great to handle in your own strength and seen God work through you? Leave a comment below and share your experience. If you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God onlinewww.LoriHatcher.com and leave a comment.



Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.







If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Waiting for Scary Test Results? 4 Things to Do

No woman ever wants to receive a call back after a mammogram. 


Like many, I treat the annual test like my home’s yearly termite inspection – something necessary and responsible, but not worth much thought. 

And when it’s done? Check off the box and move on. 

Until I get the phone call. 

“The radiologist would like you to return for additional scans. Your mammogram shows some changes that are concerning . . .” 

In God’s mercy, the facility schedules call back mammograms within five days of the dreaded phone call. But those were five very long days. 

When women get calls like this, some cry. Some pray. Some update their wills and healthcare powers of attorney. All try to keep busy. Activity pushes the fearful thoughts back into the closet. 

As I waited, the Lord led me to do several things that helped. If you’re in a waiting time, perhaps you’ll find them helpful too. 

1. I prayed. 
 “Lord, my life is yours to use however you see fit. I don’t want to have breast cancer. In your mercy, spare me. But if this isn’t your will, help me trust you. Give me your peace, and help me not be afraid. In the strong name of Jesus I ask, Amen.” 

Like a child running into the safety of her father’s arms, I flung myself on Jesus. “There’s a monster chasing me,” I admitted, “and I’m scared.” Praying reminded me it didn’t matter how big the monster was, my Father was bigger. After I prayed, I asked God to speak to me through his Word. I found precious comfort there. 

2. I asked others to pray. 
Not everyone - yet. There’d be time later to sound the alarm if the second scan was also suspicious. Part of me wanted to keep the news to myself completely, not wanting to bother anyone, but I knew I needed prayer. Corporate prayer is powerful. 

I shared my situation with a few women who knew how to approach the throne of grace with confidence. One friend shared a similar experience, reassuring me that ninety out of one hundred suspicious mammograms show no cancer. Another prayed with me immediately, strengthening me with her faith. Yet another offered to go to the imaging center with me. During my wait and on the morning of my scan, several texted reminders that they were praying. 

Sharing my need with others brought the monster out of the closet. It helped me realize that while my future was uncertain, I wasn’t facing it alone. If the outcome was favorable, my friends would rejoice with me. If the outcome was concerning, they’d walk with me on the journey. 

3. I limited what I read about mammograms and breast cancer. 
I accessed a few online articles on reputable sites, but then I made a deliberate choice not to read anything else. Every mammogram website linked to a breast cancer site, which fueled the flames of fear. There’d be time to research later if I needed to. 

4. I captured (almost) every thought.
Second Corinthians encouraged me. “We demolish every argument and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” We can’t prevent fear from knocking on our door, but we don’t have to invite it in. 

For me, fear knocked often during those five days of waiting. Some days it would manifest itself as scary thoughts that led me from diagnosis to death in three days or less. Other times I imagined dreadful treatment options. It was easy to become a faith amnesiac in the quick sand of panic. To escape, I forced myself to swim toward solid ground. This meant redirecting my thoughts, not allowing myself to fret, and reminding myself that no matter what happened, God would be with me. 

On the morning of the fifth day, as my husband and I prayed one more time, a thought occurred to me: Maybe this isn’t about me at all. Maybe, instead of me needing the folks at the imaging center, they needed me. 

Pray with the technologist before she does your mammogram, the Spirit of the Lord whispered to me. 

I was so sure the prompting came from God that as soon as the technician called me into the room, I blurted out, “May I pray for you before you do my scans?” 

Her eyebrows shot up, then scrunched into a puzzled frown. “Pray for me?” she asked. 

I suspect many patients pray for themselves, but perhaps no one had ever offered to pray for her. She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay.” 

So I did. 

“Father, thank you for Sheila. Bless her today. Enable her to do her job to the best of her ability. Use her skills to help the radiologist make an accurate diagnosis, not just for me, but for every person she cares for today. In Jesus’ name I ask, Amen.” 

When I looked up, shiny tears sparkled in her brown eyes. 

Twenty minutes later, Sheila spoke the words I’d hoped to hear. “You can go now. The doctor says everything’s normal.” 

I may never know the reason for my anxious five days. Maybe I needed to strengthen my resolve to trust God no matter what. Perhaps I needed a greater understanding and empathy for those whose life has been impacted by cancer. I realize not everyone gets an all clear like I did. Maybe I needed to be reminded of how faithful God is to his children, especially in times of crisis. 

Or maybe Sheila just needed someone to pray for her. 

My experience was a powerful reminder that God uses all things for good if we trust him. 

Now it’s your turn. Have you experienced a trial when you had to battle fear with faith? I’d love to hear your story. Leave a comment below and share your thoughts.



Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.







If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Why You Are Where You Are

Last Sunday I visited Downtown Baptist Church in Alexandria, Virginia. To be honest, what attracted me to the church wasn’t its sanctuary (although it’s lovely) or the upcoming sermon topic (the Apostles’ Creed). It was the sign that stood like a sentinel near the entrance to the church’s parking lot. Parking for Church Members Only, it said. All others will be baptized. 

When I mentioned the sign to my daughter, who lives nearby, she said, “Oh yeah. We’ve visited there before. It’s a good church.” So that’s where I went for Sunday worship. 

I appreciated the church’s tongue-in-cheek, somewhat snarky humor. The church was laughing at itself, and that’s a good thing. We’d all be happier if we could laugh more. 


The pastor, Phil Faig, said something more profound than the church's clever parking lot sign. His words continued to resonate with me long after I drove my legally-parked, non-baptized car from their parking lot: 

“Our jobs are our platforms to do missions in the world around us.” 

Consider this for a minute. 

Our jobs (think beyond what we do to earn money, although this is part of it. Think about the circumstances and situations in which we find ourselves in our everyday lives) are our platforms to do missions in the world around us. 

Many of us assume our jobs are our first priority. Then, once our work is done, if we have time (energy, money, desire) left over, we squeeze in a little Jesus. Like the butter beans we forgot in the microwave until dinner was almost over. 

But Pastor Phil’s sermon makes me think perhaps we’ve got it backwards. 

That maybe we need to look at life like this instead: 

I work at __________(fill in the blank) because this is the best platform to help others around me see Jesus. 

I’m in the ____________ (doctor’s office, grocery store, class room, drive through) because this is the best platform to help someone here see Jesus. 

I am where I am because this is the best platform to fulfill God’s command to share the good news of Jesus with those I encounter. 

This perspective could revolutionize our daily living. 

What if I live in my neighborhood/apartment/dorm because it best positions me to do missions? 

What if I’m eating in this particular restaurant being served by this particular waitress because it best positions me to do missions? 

What if I’m in this traffic jam because it best positions me to do missions to the drivers around me? 

What if I’m on this plane/bus/train/sidewalk because it best positions me to do missions to the people I encounter? 

When I adopt this perspective, I find myself seeing – really seeing – the people around me. Not as inconveniences, hindrances, distractions, or (worse) invisible, but as people with eternal souls that God wants to minister to – through me. 

That kind woman who noticed my backpack was unzipped in the boarding line at the airport? Maybe God had positioned me in front of her (and across the aisle on the plane) so I could do missions in her life. So instead of plugging in my ear buds and zoning out, I smiled and asked her where she was going. 

“To Hartford. To visit my family and interview for a graduate program,” she said. We didn’t talk long, but as we gathered our luggage and prepared to part, I handed her my ministry card. 

“I’ll say a special prayer for your interview,” I said, and I did. 

The aesthetician who coached me through my first ever head and foot massage (a birthday gift from my daughter and son-in-law)? Perhaps this special treat wasn’t just to bless me. Maybe God was positioning me to do missions in this woman’s life. 

“Sometimes when I’m quiet and relaxed,” I told her. “I pray. Is there anything I can pray for you about?” Her answer told me volumes (and gave me lots to pray about while she rubbed my feet with orange-scented oil). 

That challenging child/adult/parent/customer/patient? Maybe God has positioned me in their life to do the mission he’s called me to do as a disciple of Christ. 

How often do we see our work, our circumstances, our responsibilities, and our recreation as separate from our spiritual callings? What if, instead, we realized that one enables the other? 

Imagine the possibilities. 

Now it’s your turn. How has your work, circumstances, or responsibilities positioned you to do God’s mission in the lives of those around you? Leave a comment below and share your story. IF you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online and join the conversation.






Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.



If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

"When we see you, we see lunch."

 “When we see you,” the dark-skinned man with the wide smile said, “we see lunch.”

My friends and I laughed, and the man joined in, but later, as I pondered his statement, I realized the truth of his confession.


David and I and two other couples were visiting Nassau, Bahamas, the second stop on a five-day cruise. David and I will be married 35 years this December, and we’d chosen to take an inexpensive cruise out of Charleston, SC, to celebrate. We worked extra days, saved for months, and chose an interior cabin with no window to afford the splurge.

Thinking we knew what frugal living looked like, our tour guide’s comment caught us by surprise. It was sobering and convicting.

Our ship was one of five docked in the port of Nassau that day. As we entered the sea of people exiting the port and making their way onto the island, sights and sounds overwhelmed us.

“Taxi, mon? Come see the famous hotel, Atlantis! I’ll take you there.”

“Hair braiding, beautiful lady? Let me fix your hair!”

“Tours of the city! Cabbage beach! Straw Market! Señor Frogs!”

Everywhere we turned someone was hawking their wares, offering a service, or trying to outshout the vendor beside him.

In typical American fashion, my friends and I ducked our heads, avoided eye-contract, and plowed through the clamor.

Until we realized we had no hope of seeing the sites on our own. The streets were too congested, and the map we had downloaded too obscure.

“Would you like a tour of the city?” a soft-spoken woman in a bright-colored top asked us. “I can get you a taxi to fit your group. It will be private – just you six.”

At our relieved nods, she gestured to her partner, the man with the wide smile. Within minutes we were tucked safely into an air-conditioned van weaving through traffic on our way to our first stop.

“I appreciated the way your partner approached us,” I told the driver. “Americans don’t like to be pressured. It makes us want to run the other way.”

“It can be crazy,” he acknowledged. “Today there are five cruise ships in port. Sometimes there are two. Sometimes none. On those days we don’t work.” He paused. “You have to realize, when we see you, we see lunch.”

We laughed, and soon he was regaling us with tales of the island. But back on the ship, deciding between six dining options for our evening meal, his words returned to me.

What would it be like to wonder if I’d eat today? Or to gather around the dinner table and leave hungry? To begin each day hoping I’d earn enough money to meet my most basic needs and, some days, to fail?

My husband and I encountered similar circumstances on a mission trip to Mexico. Wanting to use our money to help ease the poverty we saw, we patronized the shops and restaurants owned by families who attended our missionary friends’ church plant. At one kiosk, our group ordered smoothies. Within minutes the proprietor handed us seven frosty drinks. The rest of the group waited, and waited, and waited for their beverages.

“What’s the hold up?” I asked the missionary who had helped us order.

“They’ve taken the money you paid them and gone to buy more cups and fruit,” she said. At my puzzled look, she explained. “At the end of each day, if they’ve made a profit, their family eats that night. They keep only enough money back to fill the first few orders the next day.”

Stories like these make me realize how little I know about real need. Our family has had its share of lean times. Unemployment, sickness, and unexpected expenses have caused us to go without and do with less, but we’ve never wondered where our next meal was coming from.

In prosperous countries, many of us forget the poor exist. Jesus reminds us to remember them. To give to those less fortunate. To look for ways to serve "the least of these."

To us, being poor may mean choosing red-rind bologna instead of nitrate-free turkey on our sandwiches. Unless a homeless person stumbles across our path, most of us move through our comfortable, middle-class days and forget half the people in the world subsist on less than three dollars a day. But living in a prosperous country doesn’t absolve us of our responsibility to the poor, it reinforces it.

If you, like I, want to be more intentional about ministering to the poor, here are a few suggestions:

    Begin with your local church. Is there someone who’s working hard but struggling to make ends meet? How can you come alongside them? Give an anonymous gift to help with a specific need? Send a single mother’s child to church camp? Buy someone a set of tires or mail a grocery store gift card? If you’re not sure who might have a need, ask your church leadership. 
      
  Donate to a reputable ministry that ministers to the poor in your community. Consider the Salvation Army, a homeless women’s shelter, or a local food pantry.
  Donate to a ministry that provides international aid to families in crisis. Samaritan’s Purse is often the first on the ground following a disaster or international incident. Sister Freda Robinson in Kitale, Kenya inspires me and makes me cry every time I receive an update on what she’s doing to help the poor. Watch this short video if you dare. If you're reading by email, click HERE to learn more about Sister Freda's ministry. I give to her ministry through Guidelines International.Perhaps you might, too.




“The poor you will always have with you,” Jesus said, and with this truth comes an obligation. And a privilege.

Our taxi ride through the streets of Nassau showed me sparkling water, sandy beaches, and historic places. It also reminded me that many of the people in our world awaken to an empty stomach and no sure way to fill it.

In God’s grand plan, he chose us to be the ones with clothes on our backs, food in our pantries, and discretionary income to use for his glory. How will we spend it? And will He be pleased?




Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.







If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Mouse-colored Mornings – A New Perspective on the Wintry Seasons of Our Lives

 Because my body is a solar-powered, energy-guzzling consumer, I hate winter. Like a cell phone with a battery that reads 23%, I start shutting down all but the most necessary functions when the sun doesn’t shine. Languishing in Energy Saver mode from November to March, I hunker down until that magic yellow orb reappears, and I can recharge.
Until then, my output is negligible and my productivity tanks.
I always bemoan what winter does to the landscape. Leaf-laden trees become anorexic skeletons. Indigo sky bleaches to institutional grey. The fiery sun dims and cools.
Three seasons of the year, in the pond behind my house, geese squabble, frogs sing their off-key chorus, and a choir of song birds practice their Sunday specials. In winter, however, the pond is silent.
The foliage, normally lush with a thousand shades of green, is barren and uninspiring. The yellow jasmine parading across my back fence languishes, a debutante minus her necklace of butter-colored blossoms. Stocky azaleas hunker down, buds closed tightly against the cold, dreaming of the day their cotton candy flowers will swell and bloom. Only the flame-shaped Bradford pear dares to show off, but its snowflake petals do nothing to color the landscape.
Today, sighing at yet another mouse-colored morning, God gave me a different perspective. Like when my optometrist clicks a lens in place and my near-sighted vision clears, I saw what I’d been missing all along.
When winter alters the landscape:
I see what has been hidden. Without the blanket of leaves covering the branches of the oak tree in my backyard, I can see the circumference of the pond. Last year’s birds’ nests. The dog that barks for his breakfast in my neighbor’s yard each morning.
I see people I’ve never seen before. Somehow, between last winter and this, a house has sprung up beside the pond. Maybe the neighbors who lived in the little home have upgraded. Or a new neighbor has settled in.
I see new tasks and assignments. Without their leaves, I can see the skeleton shapes of the trees that border my property and the bushes that line my flower beds. Some branches are dead. Others are weak. Some are unruly. I realize they need the attention of my pruning shears to be healthy.
I see a different beauty. The beauty of the oak tree’s frame. The also-beautiful shades of grey, brown, and white that sunshine blinded my eyes to. The blossoms of cold-loving plants that wither in the warmth of summer.
Winter seasons of life (illness, grief, sorrow, loneliness, need) can similarly reveal things we’ve never seen before:
What has been hidden from us. When grief or loss, fear or failure strip our days, looking outward as we look inward allows us to see the framework of faith that supports our lives. We see glimpses of God’s grand plan and remember this world is not all there is. We see the evidences of God’s love and care we missed in the days of prosperity.
People we’ve never seen before. The winter of grief introduces us to others who are mourning. Some we can learn from, others we can minster to, still others will walk the path with us. The icy clutch of illness drives us to places where sick people gather. There we can find help, friendship, and an opportunity to share the reason for the hope that lies within us. The dark days of need, or loneliness, or fear invite us to embrace life-sustaining truths, not only for ourselves, but for those who share our struggles.
New tasks and assignments. God has birthed many a ministry in the frozen wasteland of trial. Second Corinthians 1:3-5 reminds us God wastes no suffering. If we learn the lessons well, often (always) he’ll allow us to redeem our pain by easing someone else’s. Looking at our new normal through faith eyes reveals opportunities to serve God and others. Can we sprinkle faith seeds on barren ground? Gently snip a false or damaging belief from someone’s faith tree? Fertilize fledgling spiritual growth? Realizing this trial is not all about me frees me to accept and steward the new assignments a winter season brings my way.
A different beauty. In a winter season of life, God will often give us altered perception. The ability to see that even ugly things can be beautiful if we look closely. In God’s upside down economy, he brings “beauty from ashes” and “puts a new song in our heart." The dark days of parenting a prodigal helped me see the illuminating beauty of prayer. The icy winds of illness revealed to me the warm beauty of caring loved ones. The leanness of need showed me the ample beauty of daily provision.
Today the winter winds blow cold, and rain blankets the landscape. Tomorrow the sun may shine. Regardless, I will embrace the day, the one the Lord has made. Winter or summer, with God’s help, I will discover formerly hidden things, see people I’ve never seen before, find new tasks and assignments, and marvel at a different kind of beauty. Winter lasts for a season. Spring always comes. God never stops working.
If you’re in a winter season today, squeeze every bit of God’s goodness out of it. Don’t waste your pain. God is not only in it, he is orchestrating the details for your good and his glory.




Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.







If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

When Faith Becomes Complicated

Would you say your life has gotten more or less complicated as time goes on? 

I suspect most of us would say, “More.” 

Take child rearing, for example. We didn’t realize when we brought our three-day-old baby home from the hospital that caring for the needs of a newborn is rather simple. Keep them warm, dry, and fed. That’s pretty much it. 

Now consider the needs of a teenager. Without even listing their needs (which I considered doing, but it made my head hurt), you’ll agree they’re far more complex than the needs of a newborn. 

What about our professions? 

When I was 12 years old, I delivered newspapers. Now I write for them. Waaaaay more complicated than picking up a paper, stuffing in an ad circular, and flinging it in a customer’s door. 

For years, I thought the faith life also grew more complicated as time passed. 

When I was a new believer, the faith life was quite simple. Trust and obey. Trust God with every area of my life – my decisions, my direction, my destiny. Obey his word. As best I can, with the Holy Spirit’s help, obey what he tells me to do through the Bible, sermons, and the input of godly men and women. 

But then it got complicated. 

I learned big words like election and predestination. Propitiation, regeneration, and sanctification. Legalism, hedonism, and sectarianism. I grew bogged down with head knowledge but didn’t experience much practical growth. I learned a lot, and thought a lot, but not much of what I discovered translated into practical Christian living. 

Then the tide turned. 

I committed to read my Bible through in a year. (It took me 15 months.) The more I read, the more I learned. Theology, yes, and a greater understanding of how God’s plan of salvation worked itself out through the ages. How grace and law danced in perfect partnership. 

But more than that, I learned about the heart and nature of God. 

I heard him express his pleasure in us, his creation, when he declared, “It is very good.” 

I heard him weep as he slaughtered the first innocent lamb to cover Adam and Eve’s sin. 

I heard his heart crack open as he banished the man and woman from the Garden and sentenced them to work “by the sweat of their face.” 

My journey through the Bible showed me how God set before his people every blessing and promise imaginable – theirs for the taking – if they would simply walk with him all the day of their lives. 

“This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live,” God pleaded with his people (Deuteronomy 3:19). 

And I read the unimaginable horrors of what life in rebellion to God looks like. Because God is a righteous and just God, he had to punish sin. And he did, when his people rejected the thousand second chances he mercifully extended and flaunted their sin in his tear-stained face. 

As I’ve journeyed through the Bible year after year, I’ve learned that the Christian life isn’t complicated after all. It’s really quite simple. 

I’ve come full circle to the mantra of my early days: Trust and obey. 

Trust God with every area of my life – my decisions, my direction, my destiny. Obey his word. As best I can, with the Holy Spirit’s help, obey what he tells me to do through the Bible, sermons, and the input of godly men and women. 

A scene unfolded outside my window recently that summed up what I’ve learned. 

An elderly grandfather and his tiny granddaughter walked down the road. They held hands, which wasn’t hard, because the grandfather’s stooped back brought his hand to the perfect height for his granddaughter to grasp without stretching. 

Their pace was matched, toddling and shuffling in awkward tandem. As they walked, they stopped to marvel at a dandelion, a butterfly, a neighbor’s friendly cat. Delighting in the simple wonders, they were more similar than their eighty-year age gap might allow. 

This grandfather, the CEO of a successful company in his prime, had come full circle. 

Following the footsteps of a tiny girl, wide-eyed with toddler wonder, he was relearning the joy of simple truths. 

The same is true of the faith life. When you strip away dialogue and the diatribes, the theology and the theoretical, what’s left are these simple truths: Trust and obey. 

Perhaps this is why Jesus asserted, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). 

If you’ve wandered from the simple path and find yourself snarled in a tangle of complexity, open your Bibles and your heart. 

Become like a little child. 

Trust and obey. 




Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.






If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

All God's Creatures and What They Teach Us

When my husband and I were newly married, I tried to convince him I could live a long and happy life without a dog. He knew better, and soon we were doggie parents. Our first amazing dog, Polly, was a buff-colored Cocker spaniel. 
Once Polly showed us that no human should walk through life without a furry companion, we adopted Winston, a red-haired, freckled-faced puppy boy.

Through our precious pets, like JuJu the peach-faced Lovebird and my boss's Boykin spaniel puppy, Grover; neighborhood squirrels, geese, and frogs; domestic animals like sheep, and wild animals like swallows and meerkats, I've learned that God often reveals himself through his furred and feathered creation. 
Guideposts agrees and has included fifteen of my most profound God/animal moments in their brand new devotional, All God's Creatures . You can read about it below. If you love animals and God like I do, you'll want to own this volume and share a copy with your critter-loving friends. Click HERE to order and share All God's Creatures.
DEEPEN YOUR FAITH THROUGH ALL GOD'S CREATURES
Animals are God's gift to humans. They are instruments of His Grace blessed with a special gift for comforting us when we are down, fillinf us with joy at just the right moment, and encouraging us on our walk of faith. That's why Guideposts created  All God's Creatures. As Edward Grinnan, Guideposts Editor in Chief said, "All God's Creatures will touch your soul and draw you closer to God Who created us all."

DEEPEN YOUR FAITH THROUGH ALL GOD'S CREATURES
Animals are God's gift to humans. They are instruments of his grace blessed with a special gift for comforting us when we are down, filling us with joy at just the right moment, and encouraging us on our walk of faith. That's why Guideposts created  All God's Creatures.
As Edward Grinnan, Guideposts Editor in Chief said, "All God's Creatures will touch your soul and draw you closer to God Who created us all."

This beautiful new devotional begins in May to capture that joyous feeling that fills each one of us when spring arrives and warmer weather pushes out the dreary days of winter. Spring officially arrives in March, but May is when all of God's Creatures burst into life with the sweet vibrations of spring. It's the perfect time for a new devotional that brings you a refreshing new way to spend time in His Word.  PLUS you'll receive four beautiful, custom-designed Note Cards with envelopes FREE - Guidepost's gift to you.








Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.



If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

What I'm Really Good At -- A Confession

 If you asked me to name something I’m really good at, you know what I’d say? 


Worrying. 

I’m really good at worrying. I mean, really, really good. I can worry while I work, cook, clean, shop, bathe, even sleep. One morning this week I woke up from a very scary dream – about something I’d been worrying about. 

You have to be very, very good at something to be able to do it in your sleep.So it’s official. I’m very good at worrying. 

Sad thing is, I thought I’d conquered worrying. I came to Christ many years ago in large part because of my propensity to worry. As an 18-year-old high school senior, I worried about everything. The past, the present, the future. I’d worry about what hadn’t happened, what could happen, and what had happened. 

My inability to control the circumstances of my life humbled me and made me realize how much I needed a great, big, powerful, loving God to control my life. 

Shortly after I surrendered control of my life to God (he already had it anyway, but it was important for me to acknowledge this), I learned that worrying is a sin. Philippians 4:6 says: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” 

So if God says, “Do not be anxious (i.e. worry),” and I worry, I’m sinning.And I really don’t want to sin. It hurts me. It hurts others. And it hurts God’s heart. 

So, little by little, I learned to surrender to God the things that frightened me. And I found him faithful. 

Most of the things I worried about never happened. Those that did taught me valuable lessons about God’s ability to care for and provide for me. Every time I trusted God with something instead of worrying, several things happened. 

First, I didn’t feel as anxious. This is huge. Did you know anxiety can cause a multitude of physical ailments including (but not limited to) headaches, dizziness, depression, stomach aches, nausea, diarrhea, loss of appetite, a weakened immune system, muscle tension, and insomnia? 

In contrast, Philippians 4:7 promises when I pray instead of fret, “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” 

Second, I felt happier. Let’s be honest. It’s hard to be happy when you’re fretting over something like a dog gnawing a bone. Worrying people are grumpy people. Ask my husband. Or my kids.

Third, I became a better witness for Christ. Truth be told, it’s hard to convince someone else to trust God with their life, their soul, and their eternal destiny if I can’t even trust him with that unexpected bill or sticky situation at work. 

Finally, I experienced more of God’s power. When I prayed about situations beyond my control instead of fretting about them, I invited God to work in and through the situation. Worry is like a car whose tires are stuck in the mud – the tires spin and spin and spin, expending a whole lot of energy and going absolutely nowhere. In contrast, prayer is the tow truck that hooks its mighty winch to the front bumper and pulls that hopelessly-mired car free. 

Oftentimes the very act of praying, even before God answers, lifts the heavy cloud of fear and discouragement. This allows hope and joy to break through like sunshine after a cloud burst. 

I know these truths. I’ve experienced their power. I’ve walked in the victory that comes from applying them to my life. So why do I still struggle? 

Because I am flawed and frail. 

Unfortunately, we don’t conquer sin once. We battle it. Every. Single. Day. 

As long as we wear the robe of flesh that tethers us to our earthly existence, we’ll battle the sins that so easily beset us. Worry is one of them. But be of good cheer. We have hope. 

“Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57). 

In Christ, we have what it takes to triumph over worry, fear, and a multitude of other sins. Every time we catch ourselves worrying and choose to pray instead, we win. And every victory makes the next victory easier. 

Like a smoke detector that senses a fire, sounds the alarm, and triggers the sprinkler system, our spirit will learn to sense fear, sound the alarm, and douse the flames of worry with a deluge of prayer. Little by little, we can conquer worry and replace it with prayer. 

Instead of being known as someone who’s really good at worrying, I want to be known as someone who’s really good at praying. I suspect you do, too. Let’s grow in this discipline together. 

Father, you are so faithful. You’ve answered thousands of prayers and never given me a reason to doubt your love and care. Help me trust you more every day. Teach me to recognize worry as soon as the first wriggle of fear manifests itself in my spirit. Help me to use the power you've given me to capture it and wrestle it to the ground in prayer. Show yourself mighty on my behalf and use me as a witness to others of your amazing love and power. In the strong name of Jesus I pray, Amen.



Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.






If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Trusting God in the Faith Dance

The ballerina twirled, skipped, and leapt across the stage, captivating the audience who sat silent and mesmerized before her. The music swelled as she paused, inhaling deeply. On cue, she launched herself across the stage toward her waiting partner. Strong hands grasped her waist, raised her high overhead, and returned her to earth, a delicate feather coming to rest after its flight. 

Arms raised in triumph, she smiled, accepting the applause that rose spontaneously from the watching crowd. 

Seated in the third row, I felt the air leave my lungs with a whoosh. I’d been holding my breath, wondering if the ballerina’s partner would catch her during this all-important grand finale. 

Sometimes I feel like that ballerina. 

I’ve never studied ballet, but I’ve been dancing for more than 35 years. I’ve never strapped on toe shoes, nor have I worn a tutu. But I’ve been learning to move in harmony and partnership with the Savior who gives life and breath to every move I make. 

As a new believer, my faith steps were tentative. Could I trust this Partner I’d pledged my life to? When I turned to him in times of fear, despair, or confusion, would he remain by my side? When I followed his lead on unfamiliar paths, would he prove to be trustworthy? Committed to my good? Wise? 

My faltering steps became surer as my Partner proved, over and over again, his commitment to me. When I cried out to him in times of need, his generous hand sustained me. During periods of sorrow or grief, he became my ever-present comfort. When I felt lonely or abandoned, his still, small voice whispered truth into my ears, assuring me I wasn’t alone. 

The longer I’ve danced with my Savior, the more trustworthy I found him to be. Step by step, routine after routine, set after set, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has become the God of Lori Hatcher, too. Faithful. Ever-present. Unchanging. 

Over the years, day to day opportunities to trust have become routine. Other situations, however, still cause me to hold my breath. Big issues call for big trust – trust that commands both feet to leave the ground, confident that the One who has proven faithful will not let me fall. 

Like the ballerina preparing for her grand finale, sometimes I must pause, take my position, and launch. Full speed. No hesitation. No turning back. Every time I’ve done so, God has caught me. Not for my glory, but for his. 

“And without faith it is impossible to please God,” the writer of Hebrews tells us, “because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him” (Hebrews 11:6). 

I don’t know what you’re facing right now. A frightening diagnosis? A broken relationship? A financial trial? Maybe you’re gazing into an uncertain future or watching a dream die. 

Whatever lies ahead of you, choose faith. Don’t be afraid to launch yourself into the arms of our great and loving God.

He will catch you. 

Every. Single. Time. 

“I lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip” (Psalm 121-1-3).



Are you hungry for God, but starving for time? 
I’d love to send you a 5-minute e-mail devotion twice a week to start your day off with the Lord. 

Sign up for a free subscription to Hungry for God by CLICKING HERE.
Then, be sure to VALIDATE the confirmation email you receive. 

Note: I promise never to spam you or share your email address.
Because busy women need to connect with God in the craziness of everyday life.







If this post was meaningful to you, would you consider sharing it with a friend by clicking on one of the buttons below? Did you know you can receive bi-weekly Hungry for God posts sent directly to your email inbox? Visit http://www.lori-benotweary.blogspot.com and click on the link in the right hand corner to Subscribe Via Email.

Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher