Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 39

That Fiasco on the Mountain -- How to Hear God's Voice

The fiasco on the mountain was truly a pathetic scene. Desperate to prove the superiority of their false god, the prophets of Baal worked themselves into a frenzy. They danced. They sang. They called out. 


After hours of such nonsense, Elijah’s patience with their theatrics wore thin.He began to taunt them. "Shout louder!" he said. "Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened" (v. 27) 

Humiliated, the prophets renewed their efforts to attract their god’s attention. They cried louder. They cut themselves until the blood ran in rivers down their arms. 

And heaven’s voice was silent. No thunder clap from the clouds. No bolt of lightning. No booming voice declaring their god’s presence. Just silence. And, perhaps, a snicker from the lone prophet who watched their antics with disdain. 

This big-screen showdown between Elijah and the prophets of Baal is a familiar story. Captured in all its glorious detail on the pages of 1 Kings 18, the epic battle (which wasn’t a battle after all) between the God of the universe and the gods of this world ends just as we expect it to. God displays his power with miraculous signs and wonders, vanquishes his enemies, and leads even the unbelieving to testify, "The LORD – he is God! The LORD – he is God!" (v. 39). 

But what prompted God to show up? A two sentence prayer from Elijah: 


"O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel, let it be known today that you are God in Israel and that I am your servant and have done all these things at your command. Answer me, O LORD, answer me, so these people will know that you, O LORD, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again" (vv. 36-37). 

Two sentences comprised of mostly one- and two-syllable words. A simple, heart-felt plea from one of God’s children. 

If you, like I, find God’s willingness to respond to simple prayers amazing, we’re not alone. The prophet Amos also marveled at how available and accessible God is. “He is here: the One who forms the mountains, creates the wind, and reveals His thoughts to man” (Amos 4:13). 

He is here. 

Think on this for a moment. The God who forms the mountains and creates the wind . . . is here. Where we are. With us. 

But it gets better. 

Have you ever sat in a room with someone who is physically here, yet a thousand miles away? Shrouded in mystery and silence, their thoughts were as incomprehensible as a Supreme Court brief to a first-year law clerk. 

But, wonder of wonder, our God isn’t like this. He doesn’t require us to employ dramatic and extreme measures to get his attention or discern his thoughts. Our mighty, all-powerful God is not only with us, but also, in the words of Amos, “longs to reveal his thoughts to us.” 

What other god is like this? 

If you, like Elijah (not the prophets of Baal) would like to experience God’s power, and if you, like Amos, want to understand God’s thoughts, it’s not hard. 

First, seek God earnestly. 

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13). 

Second, talk to him in prayer. Prayer isn’t elaborate or ostentatious. It’s a conversation. Moses talked to God “face to face,” and we can, too, (even though, for a time at least, we’ll have to imagine God’s face). 

“The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them” (Psalm 145:18-19). 

Third, allow God to speak to you through his Word, the Bible. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16). 

As we approach God earnestly, talk to him in prayer, and allow him to speak to us through his Word, we’ll come to understand his heart and mind.No shouting, dancing, or bloodletting. Just a conversation with the God of the universe who longs to reveal his thoughts to us. 

Imagine that.






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Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Are "Ordinary" Christians Exempt? What Qualifies Us to Speak for God?"

Imagine this – you’re in the Jeopardy hot seat, and the Daily Double flashes onto the screen. 

The category? Men God Used to Write the Bible. Wager everything and produce the correct answer, and you win it all. Flub the question, and you go home broke and ashamed. 

I’ve got this, you think, scrolling through the Who’s Who of Biblical Authors: Maybe the answer is a prophet like Moses or Elijah, or a king like David. Or maybe they’ll ask for a scribe like Ezra. This is Jeopardy, and it’s the DAILY DOUBLE. The answer has to be someone important.. 


“Contestants, here’s the question: Name the fig farmer/shepherd who wrote a nine-chapter Old Testament book of the Bible.” 

Dee dee dee dee Dee dee dee Dee dee dee dee DEE dee dee dee dee dee Dee dee dee dee dee dee dee DEE dee dee dee dee dee dee. 

“For the Daily Double and the win, your answer please?” 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . .” 

“I’m sorry. The correct answer is, ‘Who is the prophet Amos?’” 

Amos? Amos? A fig farmer/shepherd wrote a book of the Bible? Who ever heard of such a thing? God uses big name stars, not nobody shepheherds. And a FIG FARMER? Named Amos? You’ve got to be kidding me.

But it’s true. 

Backstage you scroll through your Bible app on your phone and read the truth in the prophet’s own words: 

"I was neither a prophet nor a prophet's son, but I was a shepherd, and I also took care of sycamore-fig trees. But the LORD took me from tending the flock and said to me, 'Go, prophesy to my people Israel’” (Amos 7:14-15). 

The Daily Double notwithstanding, Amos’ story is our story, too. 

“Think of what you were when you were called,” the apostle Paul reminds us, 

“Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. “But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things-- and the things that are not-- to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him” (1 Corinthians 1:26-29). 

Many of us think, because we haven’t been to seminary, earned a Bible degree, or have a ministerial title behind our names, we’re not qualified to share God’s words with others. But Amos (and believers from the dawn of time) prove this thinking wrong. 

Most of God’s ambassadors were minding their own businesses living quiet lives until God tapped them on the shoulder and said, “It’s time. There’s a person who needs to hear the message I’m going to give you, and you’re the one to deliver it.” 

That co-worker who opened up last week in the break room? It’s not a coincidence that she talked to you. 

That curious teenager sitting across from you in Sunday School who finally dared to say out loud what he’s been thinking for months? Not an accident that he chose you to unburden his heart. 

That young mother struggling to believe that God can change people when her husband disappoints her day after day, week after week. Not a random event. 

Just like God used Amos the fig-farmer/shepherd to deliver his words of love and warning to the nation of Israel, so God uses us, wives, mothers, nurses, teachers to share words of hope, faith, and beauty with those in our circles of influence. 

With a few exceptions, most of the people God used to write and speak his words were untrained people who said yes to his call. 

The result? They delivered God’s message to the people who needed it at just the time they needed to hear it. 

With the exception of Jonah. He said no at first and had to spend three days in whale jail before he repented. Thankfully, God gave him a second chance. 

Slinging whale slobber and seaweed, he reluctantly marched himself into the city of Ninevah and delivered the message that brought about a city-wide revival. 

Imagine that. Only God. 

So how about you? Who is God calling you to share his words with? 

Don’t look to your credentials to decide whether to obey. Look to God’s call – that still, small voice of the Holy Spirit that nudges your heart and makes you aware of the spiritual needs of those around you. 

Then open your mouth like Amos the fig-farmer/shepherd and watch what God will do. 

“Seek good and not evil so that you may live,” Amos proclaimed, “and the Lord, the God of Hosts will be with you, as you have claimed. Hate evil and love good; establish justice in the gate. Perhaps the Lord, the God of Hosts, will be gracious” (Amos 5:14-15). 

Now it’s your turn. 

When have you sensed God calling you to speak out in his name? Did you obey? What happened? I’d love to hear your story. Leave a comment below and share with us all. If you’re reading by email, click HERE to visit Hungry for God online and comment.



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Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Running from Sin Like We're Running from Samson

The first inkling I had of my future as a track star was the day I sprinted across the yard with Samson close at my heels. 


Samson was every newspaper delivery girl’s nightmare. His shaggy black fur made the perfect backdrop for his pearly white fangs. Kinda like diamonds on black velvet, except much scarier. 

And he snarled. Samson sounded like a cross between a pig in a food trough and the Tasmanian devil. He was so mean his owners kept him in a pen with a latched lid. 

The lid, unfortunately, was secured with a simple eye hook, which meant if he lunged against the top hard enough and angrily enough, he could sometimes work the hook loose. 

And chase the paper girl, who infuriated him by coming onto his property every afternoon at 3:30 pm. 

As soon as I’d turn the corner onto Oliver Street, I could hear him barking. The knot in my stomach formed. The closer I got to his house, the tighter the knot would grow. And when I’d round the corner of his house for the long walk to the back door, a mere 20 feet from Samson’s pen, the knot became an icy hot poker that didn’t melt until I was once again safe on the sidewalk. 

On that particular day, the day I tried out for the track and field Olympics without planning to, I rounded the corner cautiously. Don’t let him see your fear, my Dad’s voice rang in my head. And whatever you do, don't run. 


Resisting the urge to bolt down the driveway, fling the newspaper into the space between the storm door and the inside door, and run back, I sauntered instead. At the first glimpse of me, Samson erupted into a slobbering, demonic rage. Crazed that I would dare set foot on his property, let alone approach him, he lunged against the top of the pen. 

BAM. His head crashed against the lid as it lifted. 

BAM. The hook held, and the lid crashed back down.

BAM. His head crashed against the lid again. 

BAM. The hook held, and the lid crashed back down. 

BAM. His head crashed against the lid as it lifted. 

Click. The hook slid from its hook. 

Squirm. Slither. Grunt. Snarl. Samson wormed his way out of the pen and lunged for his prey – ME! 

That’s when I accomplished my record-breaking 20-foot dash. Knowing speed was my only defense, I cast Dad’s advice to the wind and ran with all my might toward the apartment door. I knew if I could beat Samson to the door, I might live to run another day. 

And I did. 

But there was a flaw to my desperate plan. As soon as I flung the screen door open and reached for the inside knob, I knew I was in trouble. 

The door was locked. 

I was 12 years old at the time and skinny as a branch on Auntie Bea’s weeping willow tree. My middle-school classmates teased me mercilessly. Even my dad called me String Bean. Usually I hated my figure-less figure, but that day, I was thankful to be skinny. 

In a final, feeble attempt to escape Samson’s snapping jaws, I turned myself sideways, tucked my newspaper bag between me and him, and shut myself into the minuscule space between the two doors, yelling like I was about to be devoured – which I was. 

Samson’s barking and my screaming attracted quite a crowd. One neighbor grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from the door. Another slapped a leash on him and dragged him back to his pen. The homeowner finally opened the door from the inside, causing me to tumble backward and land in a blubbering heap at his feet. 

I was safe. 

My only regret is that this event happened during the era before security cameras. I sure would have liked to watch a replay of the best race of my life. 

I thought of Samson recently. Nightmare experiences never vanish completely, I guess. But unlike the walking-up-screaming-drenched-in-a-cold-sweat replays I sometimes experience, this reminder came in the daylight – during my quiet time. 

I read 1 Corinthians 10:31, one of the first verses I memorized as a young believer: 

“No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” 

This verse continues to remind me that God doesn’t send us into each day without protection. Instead, he always provides a way of escape. We don’t have to sin. 

Thankfully, most of us won’t face a snarling, slobbering threat like Samson, but sin and Samson are a lot alike. 

We can sometimes grow complacent or overconfident about our vulnerability to sin, thinking we’re immune to its destructive nature. 

Sin can catch us unprepared, without a plan to protect ourselves. 

If we fail to prepare, sin can injure, scar, devour, and destroy us. 

Samson taught me several valuable lessons that day. You don’t have to be a newspaper delivery girl to benefit from them: 

1. Know your enemy. What’s your weakness? Your besetting sin? Sexual temptation? The tendency to abuse alcohol? To go along with the crowd? To gossip? To lie? Knowing Samson was always waiting for me helped me be ready when the threat came. 

2. Know when to call for help. We can fight some battles alone, but others are too big. Don’t be prideful. Ask a godly friend to pray for you and hold you accountable. 

3. Avoid temptation whenever possible. Put hedges of protection around your vulnerabilities. 

4. Look for the way of escape and take it. God promises it is always there. 



Three years after my foot race with Samson, I joined the high school track team and lettered in hurdles. I never again came close to my personal best time that day at Samson's house. But then, he never chased me again. You'd better believe, though, every time I rounded the corner to his house, I was watching and ready to run. 

May we be similarly ready for whatever danger comes our way and run from sin like we're running from Samson.




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. 

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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 You Feel Insignificant

The world is very big, and sometimes I feel very small.

Scientists estimate there are seven billion people living on the earth today. Walk through Manhattan or Tokyo at rush hour, and you’ll have no trouble believing this.

“Scramble Crossing” in the Shibuya district of Tokyo, Japan, will convince you if you need further proof. Dubbed “the world’s busiest intersection” for pedestrian traffic, Scramble Crossing can reportedly accommodate as many as 2,500 pedestrians with each rush-hour traffic signal change.





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I sat at this intersection several years ago when I visited my daughter in Japan. As I watched people scurry from one side of the street to the other, I gained a greater understanding that the world is very big, and we are very small.

It’s easy sometimes, in light of the world’s great expanse, to sometimes feel insignificant and overlooked. Does God see us, single souls among billions? And if he does see us, do we matter at all?

Then I read Matthew 10:29-31: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

“Even the very hairs of your head are numbered.” God knows everything about me.

“You are worth more than many sparrows. . .” God treasures me.

And because God knows everything about ys, and because God assigns value to us (wonder of wonders!), we have no reason to feel insignificant. 

Think on this today.




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Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Are You Afraid of Failing God?

When was the last time you cried over another Christian’s moral failure? 

I cried today. 


But I wasn’t crying over the mega-church pastor from Georgia who resigned his church over an emotional affair, even though that hurt my heart. Or the local leader who was arrested on child pornography charges. I wasn’t even crying over the associate pastor who’d discipled my neighbor – while embezzling thousands of dollars from the church’s bank account. 

Today I cried for one of the most well-known leaders of the Christian (and Jewish) faith – Aaron the high priest. 

The owner of an impressive pedigree, Aaron was an unlikely candidate for spiritual and moral failure.

He was: 

A Hebrew born into slavery in Egypt. 

The son of Jochebed and Amram and brother to Moses. 

The primary spokesperson for God (and Moses) as God prepared to deliver his people from slavery in Egypt. 

He’d been Moses’ COO, the media specialists for the greatest escape of all time, and the voice that spoke God’s words to Pharaoh. He’d heard God speak, bridged the gap between Moses and the Israelites, and stood beside his little brother on the scary walk to Pharaoh’s throne room. 

He’d held the rod that became a serpent, seen the death angel pass over the Hebrew camp, and stepped onto the dry riverbed of the Red Sea. He’d eaten food that came from God’s hand, drank bitter water turned sweet, and witnessed the glory cloud of God descend upon the mountain. Most miraculous of all, he, his sons, and 70 elders had seen God – and lived. 

Yet while Moses and God transcribed the Law onto stone tablets on top of Mt. Sinai, Aaron descended into idolatrous worship at its base. Sucked into doubt, fear, and disbelief, he caved to the pressure of the crowd and turned his back on everything he believed. 

How can a man who has known God so intimately fail so profoundly? And how do we – frail humans who won’t see God face to face until heaven – have any hope of standing firm until the end? 

Do you ever fear you might behave so faithlessly that you bring shame to yourself, your family, and your ministry? Even worse, that you might fail so profoundly that you drag God’s name through the muck of sinful choices and give God’s enemies reason to rejoice? Or that the saved and the unsaved might have to stumble over your soiled example on their path to Jesus? 

I don’t normally ponder these dark, sobering thoughts. But Aaron’s failure, right there on the pages of Scripture, paired with recent accounts of godly men turning their backs on God brought me here. It comforts me to know the great apostle Paul feared the same things. 


In 1 Corinthians 9:27, he confessed to being afraid, after having preached to others, that he would be “disqualified.” Set aside. Hamstrung in his spiritual race to finish well. 

But Paul’s fear didn’t paralyze him, and our fears don’t have to, either. Instead, it fortified his determination. And it led him to take concrete steps to guard against moral and spiritual failure. 

“I beat my body and make it my slave,” he declares. My desires won’t rule me. With God’s help, I’ll rule them. 

He, too, remembered all the reasons Aaron and the children of Israel had to stand firm in God. “They walked through the sea on dry land. Followed the cloud in the desert. Ate manna from heaven and water from a rock.” 

But just experiencing God’s power isn’t enough, he says. We must intentionally guard ourselves against loving the things of this world more than the God of the heavens. Against sexual immorality. Against our tendency to test God’s patience and grumble about what we don’t have instead of expressing gratitude for what we do (1 Cor. 10:1-10). 

Take heed, he warns, “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don't fall! (v. 10:12). 

And then he tosses the rescue ring of hope: “No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it” (v. 10:13). 


The devil be damned! Christ in us IS greater than the greatest temptation. We don’t have to fall victim to Satan’s schemes and the Siren’s song of the world and the flesh. We have a race to run. A prize to claim. A Savior to honor. And a declaration to hear – “Well done, good and faithful servant.” May it ring in our ears for all eternity. 

Every time we say no to sin, we say yes to Jesus. 

Every time we erect boundaries to protect our purity, we say no to sin and yes to Jesus. 

Every time we change the channel, close the account, or delete the email, we say no to sin and yes to Jesus. 

Every time we give ourselves to God’s kingdom instead of our own, we say no to sin and yes to Jesus.

We’re not doomed to fail because other mighty men and women have failed. We are positioned to succeed because God promises a way of escape for every temptation we face. 

And He will give us the courage to take it. 

If we want to guard ourselves from being disqualified, we should: 

1. Never think we’re above moral or spiritual failure. It could happen to anyone. This is why we must remain vigilant. 

2. Check our hearts regularly. What do I love? Where will my current path lead me? Where do I spend the majority of my time, energy, and thoughts? 

3. Erect boundaries around everything we hold dear: our spiritual lives (are we spending time with God every day?), our physical lives (are our habits healthy and holy?), and our relationships (if God was an unseen guest in this relationship (and He is), would he be pleased with what he saw?) 

4. When temptation comes, look for the escape. Then take it. Like Joseph did. And Daniel. And Paul. These men are inspiring examples of people dedicated to “Well done” living. 

And if you blow it like Aaron did? Confess. Repent. Forsake. 

While the consequences of spiritual and moral failure are great, God’s forgiveness is greater. First John 1:9 points to the way back: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 

We are never out of God’s reach of forgiveness and restoration. When Aaron followed the people in sin instead of taking a stand for righteousness, he brought great harm to many. But when he and the people humbled themselves, grieved over their sin, and wept in prayer, Moses interceded for them, and the God of mercy and grace gave them all a second chance. 

He renewed his covenant with the nation, promising to go ahead of them into the Promised Land and deliver them from their enemies. The Israelites recommitted themselves to the Lord, with Aaron, their high priest, leading the way. 

Today, ministers or Christian leaders who fall can’t and shouldn’t immediately be allowed back into leadership simply because they’ve confessed and repented. This isn’t the point of this post. The point is that we can never out-sin God’s grace and his willingness to forgive. When one of his children sincerely repents, he will always forgive us. We may have to live with the consequences of our sin for a lifetime, but we can forgive ourselves and move forward, knowing God has forgiven us. 

How about you? Do you fear failing the Lord? Which protective suggestions mentioned above can you put into place to guard yourself? Or maybe you feel like you’re not likely to fall? That temptation is something other people struggle with? Has Aaron’s example caused you to reconsider this? 

Or perhaps you’ve already failed. You assume there’s no hope that God would ever want to use you again in his service? Does 1 John 1:9 give you hope that perhaps there’s a way back after all? 

Wherever you find yourself today, talk to God about it. Take the necessary steps to move forward, and watch what he will do. 

And my tears over Aaron this morning? 

While they began with sorrow over his tragic sin, they ended with gratitude over God’s forgiveness and restoration. What a God we serve. 



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.
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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

Hope for Grey Days

Some days I look out my back window and see a glorious pink sunrise over the pond beyond our property. Canada geese honk and take flight. A dog barks, reminding its master that breakfast is late. Squirrels chatter to each other from the treetops, and far in the distance a red-tailed hawk hunts breakfast.

Not today, though.

Today a cold fog hides it all from my view. The sky is grey, and the air is damp with moisture. A mist blankets the landscape, limiting my vision to what is directly in front of me. Birds squabble at the feeder outside my window while squirrels scavenge for dropped seeds on the ground. Beyond our fence, I hear the rustle of woodland noises, but I cannot see movement.

I recognize that this morning is a snapshot of life. Some days the sun’s rays shine a heavenly spotlight on what is ahead of me. Other days the sun hides behind ash-colored clouds and shrinks my field of vision.

On grey days, it’s important to realize that our limited perspective doesn’t change the reality of what is. Experience tells me that though I cannot see what lies behind the fog, it is still there. The only thing that has changed is my ability to see it.

This is why “we walk by faith, not by sight.” When circumstances blur our vision and keep us from seeing clearly, we must rely on our spiritual eyes to see what our physical eyes cannot. 

The prophet Elijah’s servant suffered from circumstantial blindness Iike I sometimes do. Surrounded by an enemy army, all he saw was what was directly in front of him. It was big, and it was scary. 

Elijah, however, had 20/20 vision.

He prayed, “‘O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.’ Then the LORD opened the servant's eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (2 Kings 6:17). 

“Don't be afraid,” the prophet told his servant, “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them’” (v. 16).


If today is a grey day for you, and you feel blinded by the fog, rest in the knowledge that your inability to see doesn’t change the reality of what is. God is present in your circumstances. He surrounds you with his care and protection. He has an army at his disposal to work his good and perfect will in your situation. Those who are with you are more than those who are with them.

Think on this today. 

Father, our vision is limited. Sometimes we are frightened by what we don’t understand. Help us remember that you know the end from the beginning and have all the days of our lives cradled gently in your strong, capable hands. Increase our faith. Help us trust you when we are afraid and seek you when we are confused. Be our advocate and our protector, and help us glorify you in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in. Help us walk by faith, not by sight. 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.
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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

The Art of Hard Conversations

I had a hard conversation this week. 

I don’t like hard conversations. They scare me. 


But that day I’d made the mistake of reading my friend Lori Roeleveld’s new book, The Art of Hard Conversations early that morning. In Chapter 2, she describes two types of conversationalists – the Hawk and the Turtle. The Hawk swoops into a discussion with an opinion, fact, or mandate. The Turtle tucks its head into its shell whenever anything conversationally-frightening appears. Like the Hawk, it may have an opinion, but it hesitates to share it for fear of being judged or misunderstood. 

I tend to be a Turtle. I’d rather keep the peace at all costs, even when doing so could cause harm in the long run. 

It’s hard to be an effective Christian, however, if you’re a Turtle. The Bible says a lot about sharing our faith with others, and, usually, this requires saying something – out loud. 

So that day, with Lori’s gentle challenge to speak up and out when the Lord prompts us, even though it might be scary, I drove past the abortion clinic down the street from my office. I’ve prayed a lot of prayers over that facility. 

In answer to my (and many others’) prayers, God has raised up a ministry, A Moment of Hope. This almost all-volunteer organization helps women with unplanned pregnancies choose life for their babies. It connects them with medical care as well as financial, emotional, and spiritual support. 

Earlier that morning, my husband and I had pulled a Christmas card off the top of the stack of cards we received last month. The card was from A Moment of Hope. 

We prayed God’s blessings on the ministry, asking him to use it to save babies’ lives and lead mothers to a saving knowledge of Jesus. “Please, Lord,” I prayed, “don’t let any babies die this week at Planned Parenthood.” 



As I drove past the facility on my way in to work, guess what I saw? Yep. A team of Moment of Hope volunteers assembling to pray in the right of way near the abortion clinic. 

Must be an abortion day, I thought. I’m so glad we prayed for the ministry. That’s when the Holy Spirit nudged me. You should tell them them you prayed for them, he said. It will encourage to know they’re not the only ones who care, and that others are also praying for the unborn babies and their mothers. 

But Lord, I responded. (Hint: It’s never good when you begin a prayer with “But Lord.”) I can’t stop and tell them that. It’s kinda scary. And awkward. And I don’t recognize any of the volunteers. They’re busy. And besides, I’ve already driven past them. I’d have to turn around and go back. 

Then turn around and go back, the Lord said. They’re out here at eight o’clock in the morning and the temperature’s below freezing. And they’re probably feeling a little scared, too. They need encouragement. 

So I turned around. 

“Hi, I’m Lori Hatcher. My husband and I are friends of A Moment of Hope,” I blurted out to the team of people standing beside the driveway. “Every morning we pray for someone who sent us a Christmas card, and today we prayed for y’all. We asked God not to allow any babies to die at this facility this week. Keep up the good work. You’re not the only ones that care.” 

I don’t know why it was so hard to speak a word of encouragement to those kind-hearted people, but it was. I didn’t know what was going on in the volunteers’ hearts that morning, as they stood by the roadside in 20-degree weather, but God did. He sent me to remind them that they’re not the only ones who care about unborn babies and frightened mothers.

Later that day, I received an email from a worker at A Moment of Hope. This is what it said: 

Hi Mrs. Hatcher, 

Thanks so much for circling back this morning to tell the group y'all were praying. It is very encouraging to us. 

 I wanted to let y'all know the Lord answered in a remarkable way! Two mothers stopped and talked. One decided to skip her abortion appointment to learn about options. The other talked with me about having a Pregnancy Care Team (our new initiative to pair a mother who has chosen life with ladies from a local church to mentor and befriend and throw baby shower) instead of going into Planned Parenthood to schedule an abortion. 

The hand of God on her life is so evident. Numerous people and situations have deterred her from this abortion. By the end of our conversation she was talking like she is going to keep her baby!! Please pray that both these ladies will carry their children to term. Please express our gratitude for the prayer and concern! 

Wow. Just wow. 

That young mother wasn’t the only one seeing God’s hand all over the events of the day. From Lori Roeleveld’s book, to AMOH’s Christmas card, to my husband’s and my prayer, to the volunteers outside the clinic, to God’s prompt to stop and encourage them, to  the young mothers who were open to an abortion alternative. God worked mightily that day through more than one hard conversation. 

So how about you? Are you a Turtle when it comes to hard conversations? If you are, I hope my story will encourage you to speak up and speak out the next time you feel the Lord prompting you. I can assure you, you’ll be glad you did. 

And if you could use some coaching, I encourage you to read Lori Roeleveld’s new book, The Art of Hard Conversations. Releasing on February 19, it's available for preorder from Amazon. It’s a must read for anyone who wants to make a difference in your home, your church, and in the world.

Read it. Apply it. Then watch to see what God does in and through you.






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Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Don't Close Your Eyes

When my children were young, bedtime (theirs) was one of my favorite times of the day. Not because they were tired, but because I was. I loved and enjoyed my children, but after a long day of refereeing squabbles, wiping runny noses, teaching, correcting, feeding, and cleaning up after two busy little girls, I was spent.

Like the lawnmower that ramps up to a high speed right before it runs out of gas, however, my girls seemed to gain momentum, not lose it the closer we got to bedtime. The only way I managed to get them settled down was to pop them into a warm bath, clothe them in their flannel jammies, and read them a bedtime story. If I could just get them still, their little bodies would wilt and their eyes would grow heavy. 

Choosing the right book was crucial to the success of bedtime, though. Too exciting, and they’d be slaying dragons and fending off invaders. Too sedate, and they’d be teasing and poking each other behind my back. And if it had pictures, they’d better be good, ‘cause great words with sub-par illustrations is just wrong. 


My grands -- Caroline, Andrew, and LaurenMy kids seldom allow me to read to them anymore, but I have a brand new audience in my three grandchildren. Their parents love for me to put them to bed for some reason, preferably before they arrive home from a date night. 

We had the opportunity recently to preview a new bedtime book by my friend and agent, Bob Hostetler. Bob began his career writing books for teens, then for adults. Thirty plus books, including a Shakespeare devotional. Imagine that. 

But those books were just practice for his finest work yet, Don’t Close Your Eyes, A Silly Bedtime Story. The perfect blend of rhyme, humor, and reverse-psychology, this soothing board book follows the bedtime antics of a group of forest animals at day’s end as they try very hard not to close their eyes. 


Hostetler’s lyrical rhyme and Mark Chamber’s whimsical illustrations keep little readers (and not-so-little ones) engaged until the final sleepy page. The only hindrance to bedtime is that kids like it so much they want you to read it again. And again. And again. 

No worries, this sturdy board book has only 20 pages, which means you can read it several times without setting bedtime back too far. This funny, sweet, story with its awwww ending puts the cherry on the sundae of a good day. 

For every child who fights sleep and every parent (or grandparent) trying to put them to bed, this book is a must-have. Better for inducing sleep than a glass of warm milk or a teaspoon of Benadryl, Don't Close Your Eyes, A Silly Bedtime Story is available for pre-order on Amazon and debuts February 5. 

Now it’s your turn. Do your kids or grandkids have a favorite bedtime book? Which one is it? Leave a comment in the space below and share your treasures. If you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online and leave a comment.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

Feeling Grateful on National Squirrel Day?

“Lori!” Vangie said, hurrying through the door, her eyes wide. “There’s an animal in the backyard. He’s grey, and has big eyes and a fluffy tail. And he runs like this. ” She moved her arm up and down like a roller coaster. “Does he bite?” 

My puzzled frown turned into a smile, and a laugh escaped before I could smother it. 

Vangie was from the Philippines and had been living with my husband and me for several weeks. Every day since her arrival, she’d found something new to marvel at. Today it was a squirrel. 

Since the furry rodents are indigenous to the United States, and this was Vangie’s first visit here, she’d never seen one before. Once I assured her they were harmless, she added squirrel to her never-ending list of funny American words and went back outside to study it further. 

Vangie found other aspects of everyday life in America equally fascinating. My oven, for example. Most Filipino homes don’t have ovens, so baking was quite mysterious to her. The day I let it slip that I knew how to bake bread from scratch elevated me to rock star status in her eyes. 

She’d never had a birthday cake, either, something I didn’t know until I’d whipped up a simple Betty Crocker mix for her 25th birthday. Her awe and delight made me ashamed for all the birthday cakes I’d taken for granted over the years. 

I didn’t realize she’d grown up without hot water until I came home one day to find all my dishes washed and half the bottle of dish detergent gone. “You cook, and I’ll clean,” she’d said to me earlier that day, eager to help around the house. 

When I watched her tidy the kitchen after dinner, I noticed she wet each dish individually, saturated the dishcloth with dish soap, scrubbed it clean, then rinsed the suds off with cold water. I asked her why she washed dishes this way.

“When you don’t have hot water, you have to use lots of soap,” she said. Showing her the left hand faucet revolutionized Vangie’s dishwashing. 

January 21 is National Squirrel Day, and as I watch the squirrels race across my back fence, they remind me of Vangie. I’ve never forgotten her child-like sense of wonder about simple things like birthday cakes and hot water. 

Her delight and enthusiasm made me think of all the things I take for granted. 

Clean water to drink, cook with, and bathe in. After two mission trips to Mexico, I should never take this for granted. 

The ability to sleep without fear. Not everyone in the world, or even in this country, rests peacefully with little concern for safety. 

Choices about what to eat. Many in the world are grateful simply to have food. My “leftovers” would be someone else’s feast. 

Washcloths. I’ll never forget the Operation Christmas Child story I heard about a little boy who received an OCC shoebox for Christmas. When someone asked him what his favorite item in the box was, he responded, “The washcloth. I’ve never had one of my own before.” 

Screens. I live in the Southern United States, where the insects are plentiful, and mosquitoes are vicious. I can’t imagine living without screens (or windows for that matter). More than 40 percent of the world’s population, however, lives in malaria-risk areas. Over one million people worldwide, mostly children, die from malaria each year, which is just one of the diseases transmitted by the insects. I should never take my screens for granted. 


The apostle Paul said, in his letter to the Philippians, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:12-13). 

Contentment and gratitude are beautiful things. They bring glory to God our father. May we never cease to be in awe of the good gifts he has given us. 

I’ve shared only a few of the things for which I am grateful. I’d love for you to add to my list by leaving a comment in the box below. If you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom of the post, and leave a comment.



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Copyright 2018 by Lori Hatcher

Feeling Grateful on National Squirrel Day

“Lori!” Vangie said, hurrying through the door, her eyes wide. “There’s an animal in the backyard. He’s grey, and has big eyes and a fluffy tail. And he runs like this. ” She moved her arm up and down like a roller coaster. “Does he bite?” 

My puzzled frown turned into a smile, and a laugh escaped before I could smother it. 

Vangie was from the Philippines and had been living with my husband and me for several weeks. Every day since her arrival, she’d found something new to marvel at. Today it was a squirrel. 

Since the furry rodents are indigenous to the United States, and this was Vangie’s first visit here, she’d never seen one before. Once I assured her they were harmless, she added squirrel to her never-ending list of funny American words and went back outside to study it further. 

Vangie found other aspects of everyday life in America equally fascinating. My oven, for example. Most Filipino homes don’t have ovens, so baking was quite mysterious to her. The day I let it slip that I knew how to bake bread from scratch elevated me to rock star status in her eyes. 

She’d never had a birthday cake, either, something I didn’t know until I’d whipped up a simple Betty Crocker mix for her 25th birthday. Her awe and delight made me ashamed for all the birthday cakes I’d taken for granted over the years. 

I didn’t realize she’d grown up without hot water until I came home one day to find all my dishes washed and half the bottle of dish detergent gone. “You cook, and I’ll clean,” she’d said to me earlier that day, eager to help around the house. 

When I watched her tidy the kitchen after dinner, I noticed she wet each dish individually, saturated the dishcloth with dish soap, scrubbed it clean, then rinsed the suds off with cold water. I asked her why she washed dishes this way.

“When you don’t have hot water, you have to use lots of soap,” she said. Showing her the left hand faucet revolutionized Vangie’s dishwashing. 

January 21 is National Squirrel Day, and as I watch the squirrels race across my back fence, they remind me of Vangie. I’ve never forgotten her child-like sense of wonder about simple things like birthday cakes and hot water. 

Her delight and enthusiasm made me think of all the things I take for granted. 

Clean water to drink, cook with, and bathe in. After two mission trips to Mexico, I should never take this for granted. 

The ability to sleep without fear. Not everyone in the world, or even in this country, rests peacefully with little concern for safety. 

Choices about what to eat. Many in the world are grateful simply to have food. My “leftovers” would be someone else’s feast. 

Washcloths. I’ll never forget the Operation Christmas Child story I heard about a little boy who received an OCC shoebox for Christmas. When someone asked him what his favorite item in the box was, he responded, “The washcloth. I’ve never had one of my own before.” 

Screens. I live in the Southern United States, where the insects are plentiful, and mosquitoes are vicious. I can’t imagine living without screens (or windows for that matter). More than 40 percent of the world’s population, however, lives in malaria-risk areas. Over one million people worldwide, mostly children, die from malaria each year, which is just one of the diseases transmitted by the insects. I should never take my screens for granted. 


The apostle Paul said, in his letter to the Philippians, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:12-13). 

Contentment and gratitude are beautiful things. They bring glory to God our father. May we never cease to be in awe of the good gifts he has given us. 

I’ve shared only a few of the things for which I am grateful. I’d love for you to add to my list by leaving a comment in the box below. If you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom of the post, and leave a comment.



If you enjoyed this post, why not subscribe? I'll send you twice-weekly 5-minute devotions to help nourish your soul. 
Because women need to connect with God in the craziness of life. 

Enter your email address and VALIDATE the Feedburner email sent to your inbox.



Delivered by FeedBurner

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