Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 49

Rev. Billy Graham - My Regret

When I heard Billy Graham had died, I was happy and sad at the same time. 


I also felt a profound sense of regret. 

I was happy for Reverend Graham. He’d fought the good fight, finished his race, and received his crown. The Lord Jesus, whom he had proclaimed without compromise for so many years, had declared, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of the Lord.” What a scene that must have been. 

I remember Anne Graham Lotz’ answer to me when, during an interview, I’d asked about her father. “He sleeps a lot. He’s tired. He misses mama.” 

I’m glad, for Rev. Graham’s sake, that, in his own words, he’s now “more alive than he’s ever been.” And he’s reunited with his beloved wife and his precious Savior. 

I also felt sadness. A great man – a champion of the cause of Christ – lived no longer among us. Although he hadn’t ministered publicly in years, just knowing he still lived gave me courage. I’ve always been comforted, whenever I’d hear of another pastor who’d fallen into immorality, that Billy Graham was scandal-free. He proved it could be done, that you could live your whole life without bringing shame to the name of Jesus. His godly example gave me hope. 

And then there was the regret. The bitter pill you can never cough up. 

Billy Graham came to South Carolina, where I’ve lived for more than 30 years, twice. The first time was back in 1950, from February 19 to March 12. He preached most of his sermons at the Township Auditorium, but also held one large event at what was then Carolina Stadium, but is now Williams-Brice Stadium. It's estimated he evangelized over 180,000 people during that crusade. 

My father was one of them. He was 14 years old. 

Reverend Graham preached again in Columbia in 1987, from April 25 to May 2. 

I didn’t attend. 

This is my regret. 

I was a young believer then. I’d been saved for less than five years. The church I attended was passionate about sharing the gospel. My husband was the first teenager who came to faith under its witness. 

Fiercely committed to the truth of Scripture, this church struggled with Billy Graham’s willingness to work with all denominations, even those that didn’t preach what Scripture made clear – that the only way to heaven is through faith in Jesus Christ – plus nothing. 

“When a person accepts Christ at one of his crusades,” the church leaders said, “he tells them to go to church. But he doesn’t tell them to go to a Bible-believing church, one that teaches that faith in Christ alone is what’s necessary for salvation. Those people will be led astray.” 

While our pastors didn’t specifically say we shouldn’t attend the crusade, they made it very clear that they disapproved. My husband and I, as new believers, eager to do what was right, chose not to attend. 

I’ve often regretted that decision. 

Now that I’ve walked with Jesus for many years, I’ve learned a few things that would have helped me make a different choice. 

I’ve learned that the Holy Spirit is trustworthy. That if he saves someone, he’s also able to complete the work that began at salvation. I believe if someone is attending a church that doesn’t teach the Bible and gets saved, God will either lead them out or make them a missionary to that church. 

I’ve learned that while there’s only one way to heaven, there are a bazillion ways to share the gospel. Billy Graham’s way was one of them. One very effective way, I might add, one that God blessed tremendously. Who’s to say that our way is the only right way? 

The apostle Paul addressed this in his letter to the Philippians. “It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. The latter do so in love, knowing that I am put here (in jail) for the defense of the gospel. The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice” (Phil. 1:15-18). 

And I’ve learned that we should trust our spiritual leaders, but we shouldn’t follow them blindly. We should weigh their advice against the infallible Word of God, then seek God’s will for our lives through prayer and additional wise counsel. 

While I can’t undo the decision I made 30 years ago, I can learn from it. I’ve learned to trust the Holy Spirit, be gracious toward those who serve God differently than I, and allow God’s Word to be the final authority in every decision I make. 

As I rejoiced at Dr. Billy Graham’s homegoing, mourned the loss of him, and regretted that I missed an opportunity to hear him preach in my hometown, God gave me a sweet gift. Through the wonders of technology and YouTube, I found a video of one of the sermons he preached during his crusade in Columbia. 

Instantly I was transported back to 1987. Big hair, big glasses, and a big God who redeems regrets and calls all mankind to himself. 

Now it’s your turn. Have you ever attended one of Dr. Graham’s crusades? 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. I hope you enjoy Dr. Graham’s message as much as I did. 





If you're reading by email and can't see the video, click HERE to watch online.


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

The Question Jesus Asks Us All: Do You Still not Understand?

From the time my daughter was a newborn, she was an excellent communicator. She could pack more meaning and emotion into one syllable than any child I knew. 

Other babies in the church nursery would work up to the full expression of their need. When their little tummies began to rumble, they’d squirm. Then their eyes would pop open. Then they’d poke their little lips out and whimper pitifully. Eventually, if no one summoned their mother or popped a bottle into their mouth, they’d begin to wail. 

Not my child. She’d go from dead asleep to howling in half a second. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! 
But every time she cried and I fed her, we built trust. Before long she transitioned from a bloodcurdling scream to a lusty cry. Then a softer cry. Eventually I couldn’t remember the last time she’d screamed herself (and me) awake. When I started feeding her on a schedule, sometimes she didn’t cry at all. She just waited for me to feed her. 

Once she learned simple words, she could ask for what she needed. And ask she did. 

“Mommy, may I have a pancake?” 

“Mommy, may I have a glass of juice? 

“Mommy, may I have that sparkly pair of shoes?” 

“Mommy, may I have another blanket?” 

Coming to me when she needed something became her default setting. I had proven myself dependable. Although it would be many years before she fully understood the commitment her father and I made when we brought her into the world, she knew one thing well – she could trust her parents to supply her needs. 

Apparently Jesus’ disciples struggled in the same way my daughter did. Mark 7 describes them looking out over a sea of 5,000 men and twice as many women and children and wondering, How in the world will we feed them all? 

"How many loaves do you have?" Jesus asked them, then multiplied the loaves and fish into so much food they gathered 12 baskets of leftovers (Mark 6:38-44). 

The next week, 4,000 men, many of whom had traveled great distances to hear Jesus, sat hungry at their feet. Jesus again told the disciples to feed them. 

 “But where in this remote place can anyone get enough bread to feed them?" they replied. 

"How many loaves do you have?" Jesus again asked (Mark 8:5). Then he multiplied their loaves and fish and fed them all. 

You’d think watching Jesus provide food in abundance on such a grand scale would have taught the disciples that he was a capable and consistent provider, but later that day, they were still struggling. 


I’m not sure whose responsibility it was to pack food for the trip, but halfway across the lake they realized they had only one loaf among them. A comment Jesus made warning them of the “leaven of the Pharisees” caused them to mutter among themselves. 

“Do you think he said that because we forgot the bread?” one man asked another. 

“Probably,” he said. “How could you forget it? That’s the second time this week.” 

“Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked them: ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not see or understand? Are your hearts hardened? 

 “'Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don't you remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?’ 

“'Twelve,’ they replied. 

"'And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?’ 

“They answered, ‘Seven.’ 

“He said to them, ‘Do you still not understand?’” (Mark 8:17-21).

Jesus asks us the same thing. 

Do you not still understand? 

How much money do you have? Not enough. 

How much time do you have? Not enough of that either. 

How much health do you have? Energy? Wisdom? Perseverance? Faith? 

Not enough – and that’s the point. Within ourselves, with our limited and minuscule resources, we cannot do the tasks God has called us to do. But with Jesus as our dependable and faithful provider, we can. 

So the next time we take stock of our resources and find them lacking, we have a choice: Wail in fear or wait in trust. To help us make that choice, we can ask ourselves two questions: “Has God provided for me in the past?” 

If yes, “Has his ability to meet my needs changed?” 

Do we have any reason to think he can’t provide for us in the future? 

Do you still not understand?



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Do You Still not Understand?

From the time my daughter was a newborn, she was an excellent communicator. She could pack more meaning and emotion into one syllable than any child I knew. 

Other babies in the church nursery would work up to the full expression of their need. When their little tummies began to rumble, they’d squirm. Then their eyes would pop open. Then they’d poke their little lips out and whimper pitifully. Eventually, if no one summoned their mother or popped a bottle into their mouth, they’d begin to wail. 

Not my child. She’d go from dead asleep to howling in half a second. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! 
But every time she cried and I fed her, we built trust. Before long she transitioned from a bloodcurdling scream to a lusty cry. Then a softer cry. Eventually I couldn’t remember the last time she’d screamed herself (and me) awake. When I started feeding her on a schedule, sometimes she didn’t cry at all. She just waited for me to feed her. 

Once she learned simple words, she could ask for what she needed. And ask she did. 

“Mommy, may I have a pancake?” 

“Mommy, may I have a glass of juice? 

“Mommy, may I have that sparkly pair of shoes?” 

“Mommy, may I have another blanket?” 

Coming to me when she needed something became her default setting. I had proven myself dependable. Although it would be many years before she fully understood the commitment her father and I made when we brought her into the world, she knew one thing well – she could trust her parents to supply her needs. 

Apparently Jesus’ disciples struggled in the same way my daughter did. Mark 7 describes them looking out over a sea of 5,000 men and twice as many women and children and wondering, How in the world will we feed them all? 

"How many loaves do you have?" Jesus asked them, then multiplied the loaves and fish into so much food they gathered 12 baskets of leftovers (Mark 6:38-44). 

The next week, 4,000 men, many of whom had traveled great distances to hear Jesus, sat hungry at their feet. Jesus again told the disciples to feed them. 

 “But where in this remote place can anyone get enough bread to feed them?" they replied. 

"How many loaves do you have?" Jesus again asked (Mark 8:5). Then he multiplied their loaves and fish and fed them all. 

You’d think watching Jesus provide food in abundance on such a grand scale would have taught the disciples that he was a capable and consistent provider, but later that day, they were still struggling. 


I’m not sure whose responsibility it was to pack food for the trip, but halfway across the lake they realized they had only one loaf among them. A comment Jesus made warning them of the “leaven of the Pharisees” caused them to mutter among themselves. 

“Do you think he said that because we forgot the bread?” one man asked another. 

“Probably,” he said. “How could you forget it? That’s the second time this week.” 

“Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked them: ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not see or understand? Are your hearts hardened? 

 “'Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don't you remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?’ 

“'Twelve,’ they replied. 

"'And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?’ 

“They answered, ‘Seven.’ 

“He said to them, ‘Do you still not understand?’” (Mark 8:17-21).

Jesus asks us the same thing. 

Do you not still understand? 

How much money do you have? Not enough. 

How much time do you have? Not enough of that either. 

How much health do you have? Energy? Wisdom? Perseverance? Faith? 

Not enough – and that’s the point. Within ourselves, with our limited and minuscule resources, we cannot do the tasks God has called us to do. But with Jesus as our dependable and faithful provider, we can. 

So the next time we take stock of our resources and find them lacking, we have a choice: Wail in fear or wait in trust. To help us make that choice, we can ask ourselves two questions: “Has God provided for me in the past?” 

If yes, “Has his ability to meet my needs changed?” 

Do we have any reason to think he can’t provide for us in the future? 

Do you still not understand?



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

How to Pray for God's Will -- A Guest Post by Sue Schlesman

Today it's my privilege to share some thoughts from my friend and fellow writer, Sue Schlesman. Sue and I shared a room recently at the Asheville Christian Writers Conference. We immediately connected on a subject that is near and dear to our hearts--prayer. I know you'll be challenged and inspired by her words.

"Dear God, if it's Your will, please . . ." 

That's the spiritual way to pray, right? For God's will. And then we proceed to tell him what his will should be.

In Hebrews 12, we read about a whole list of people who spoke with God and heard His response. They heard God's will about moving to a new land, shaking off slavery, conquering kingdoms, enduring persecution. They prayed for God's will (a plan), they submitted to God's will (their obedience), and then God led them in His will (their destiny). God's will can mean all three things. So what and how should we pray for God's will?

Accept an unknown outcome.

Here are two curious aspects of God's will. He often doesn't tell us the details first, and he doesn't even promise we'll know why something happened. He just expects blind obedience to his written Word. Hebrew 11:39 says, "These were all commended for their faith yet none of them received what had been promised." 

None of them received what was promised! The faith walk is not about understanding what God is doing. It's about joining what he is doing. You may see the fruit of your obedience, but you may not. The outcome shouldn't matter.

Expect hardship in doing God's will. 

Since following God's will is an act of faith, it makes sense that part of the faith-building exercise is to follow God without knowing exactly where he's leading or what following him will entail. He has already given us some clues about this in Scripture:

John 16:33: "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

Matthew 5:10: "Blessed are those who are persecuted because of their righteousness, for theirs in the kingdom of heaven."

1 Thessalonians 5:18: "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

Why are we surprised when following God is hard? He told us it would be hard. It's the enduring of hardship that points people to Christ. Jesus is the answer for all of life's difficulties.

Embrace suffering for doing God's will. It is God's will for you to experience suffering.

In Philippians 1:29, Paul says "For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him, but also suffer for him." In Greek, the word grant carries the concept of giving a gift or a privilege. God gives us suffering because he knows it will improve our character and our relationship with him. Although it may seem like an oxymoron, we should embrace suffering, knowing that God is perfecting us and making us more like Jesus.

Be faithful in following God's will.

Let's not pray for God's will to remove something difficult from our lives. Let's pray for strength and courage to be faithful to our calling. Maybe we should pray through suffering more than we pray against suffering. Galatians 6:9 reminds us, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

Lord, not my will, but Yours be done. 






Sue Schlesman is a Christian writer, teacher, and speaker. Her blogs, fiction, and non-fiction reach a wide audience. You can find her eating dark chocolate and philosophizing about life and Jesus at www.susanwalleyschlesman.com and www.7prayersthatwork.com.








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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Are We Tearing Apart Our Homes with Our Own Hands?

“And if you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” the woman muttered to her husband. “I told you we should have taken care of this a month ago. I don’t know why I let you handle things. I should just do it myself.” The disgust and contempt dripped from her lips like arsenic.


Looking their way, I glanced up at the man standing with her. His shoulders slumped, and a flush crept across his face. The light in his eyes dimmed. 

I turned away, feigning interest in the cans of Chef Boyardee on the shelf in front of me, but her words lingered in my mind long after she’d shoved her cart down another aisle.

I encountered another disrespectful wife recently, this one on the pages of Scripture.

Second Samuel 6 describes a grand and glorious day for Israel. After 20 years, the ark of God, the symbol of God’s favor and blessing, was finally returning to Jerusalem. David’s first attempt to bring back the holy symbol ended in disaster, but this time the priests carefully followed God’s instructions. When they’d taken six steps and no lightning bolts fell from the sky, they knew God’s blessing rested upon them.

David’s heart swelled with joy. Casting kingly dignity and his royal robes aside, he danced before the Lord with all his might. “He and the entire house of Israel brought up the ark of the LORD with shouts and the sound of trumpets,” (2 Sam. 6:14-15). The Israelites celebrated with songs of praise and a time of feasting. Happy and content, David returned to the royal palace basking in the joy of the celebration.

Until Michal, his wife, met him at the door. Sarcasm oozed from her words like slime from a slug. "How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today,” she spat, “disrobing in the sight of the slave girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would!” (2 Sam. 6:20).

Talk about sucking the joy out of the atmosphere. Way to end one of the happiest days of David’s life. Instead of rejoicing with her husband and entering into his celebratory abandon, she demeaned and shamed him. Michal not only got an A for spoiling the party, she earned extra credit for wifely disrespect.

Like I did for the poor man in the grocery store, I cringed for David. But my heart hurt even more for Michal. Like the foolish woman in Proverbs 14:1, she was tearing down her house with her own hands – or mouth – in this case.

Second Samuel 6:2 records God’s judgment on her: “And Michal daughter of Saul had no children to the day of her death.”

It’s easy to look down our self-righteous noses at Michal, but one long look in the mirror reminds us we have little to brag about. How often have we talked down to our husbands, belittled or disregarded their ideas, or treated them like children? If someone were to record some of our conversations, would they always hear the same respectful tone we use with our bosses, patients, and friends or something less? 

Do we honor them as the leaders in our homes or undermine their leadership by manipulating them or going behind their back? Do we ever trash talk them to our friends, family, or children?

Since the dawn of time, women have struggled to respect their husbands. Sadly, many men don’t act in ways that deserve respect. But God doesn’t put conditions on his command for us to respect our husbands. He just tells us to do it.

“However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband” (Eph. 5:33).

As we respect our men out of reverence and obedience to the Lord, God will honor this. Ephesians 6:8 promises: “You know that the Lord will reward each one for whatever good they do.”
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If you, like most of us, don't always respect your husband, may I suggest a resource? Dr. Emerson and Sarah Eggerichs’ book, Love and Respect offers a hopeful challenge and practical help toward building a marriage that honors God and each other. I highly recommend it.






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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Is God Ignoring Me?

Standing at the kitchen counter, I feel a tug at my pants leg. Fully aware that my tiny granddaughter stands at my feet, I continue spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. The tug becomes more insistent. 

“Just a minute, Caroline. Gigi can’t pick you up right now.” 


Caroline (lightly dusted with flour from Mommy's baking)A frown creases her little brow. Whimpering, she grabs both pants legs, arching her back as if to will herself higher. 

“I know you’re hungry. Hang on. I’m making you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” 

My words only fuel her distress. With a final swipe of the knife, I add jelly to the sandwich, then smoosh the two pieces of bread together, completing the PB&J marriage. A wail at my feet signals the end of Caroline’s patience. 

I understand her frustration. 

From her limited perspective, nothing is happening. My back is turned, and I am clearly occupied with something other than her. To make matters worse, she has a need I'm not responding to.

Or so she thinks. 


If Caroline was a little taller, she could see the truth—that I'm not ignoring her. Not only am I not ignoring her, but I'm actively working on her behalf. 

I’m a lot like Caroline. 

I’ve learned where to go when I have a need, and that’s a good thing. I approach my heavenly Father with a gentle tug and a whispered prayer or plea. If he doesn’t respond immediately, I become more insistent. 

Some days his silence makes me feel as though he’s turned his back on me and is deliberately ignoring my urgent demands. Other times, I must confess, I launch a full-blown tantrum, complete with thrashing and wails. 

Like Caroline, I have a limited perspective. 


Tethered to earth by my mortality, I cannot see into the spiritual realm, where God is always at work. I forget he is my advocate, my provider, and my deliverer. Spiritual amnesia robs my memory of all the times he’s come to my rescue, and I panic, forgetting that his timetable is different from my own. 

This is when I must rest in what I know, not in what I see. God’s Word tells me the truth—that he knows me, loves me, and promises to care for me all the days of my life. 

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you” (Isa. 46:4). 

What are you struggling with today? Trust God with it.

May this be our prayer: 

Father, help me trust you when I cannot see you. Help me remember all you’ve done for me in the past and wait patiently when your answer is long in coming. Grow my faith as I learn to depend on you. In the strong name of Jesus I pray, Amen.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Crying in the Restroom -- Comfort for the Disappointed

Like the good writers they teach us to be, writing conference directors love to build anticipation and suspense. This is why they save “what you’ve all been waiting for” for the final moments of the final meeting on the final day of the conference.


What we’ve all been waiting for, at least for many attendees, is the announcement that reveals who won the writing contests. I served on faculty at a conference recently where this was the case. The Miss America pageant had nothing on them as they slowly read the names of the winners.

“And the second runner up is . . . “

“And the first runner up is . . . “

“Now let’s give the history of this particular contest . . .”

“And talk about a few of the past winners . . . “

“And take a few photographs . . . “

“And finally, . . . the winner of the 2018 Best Novel Contest iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis . . . Katie Smithson.”

Clapping along with the rest of the audience, I stood to excuse myself. I needed to go to the bathroom. I'd been waiting for at least 30 minutes because I didn't want to miss the announcement. As the winner, shiny trophy and cash prize in hand, posed for pictures, I made my way to the nearest restroom.

A quick glance told me it was empty except for one stall. And in that stall stood a crying woman.

Her back was pressed against the closed stall door, and all I could see was her feet. But I heard her sniffling.

I knew immediately what was wrong.

She was one of the contest entrants – one of the ones who didn’t win.

I turned, eased the bathroom door open, and slipped out, respecting her desire to cry alone.

On the long walk to find another restroom, I prayed for her.


Lord, remind her that her writing is valuable. Strengthen her resolve to learn the craft and apply the knowledge she’s learned this weekend. Give her courage to open her computer again. Someday her writing may be good enough to win an award, but even if it isn't, remind her that the true prize doesn't belong to the most gifted or accomplished, but to the one who perseveres. Most of all, Lord, help her not to quit.

When was the last time you were disappointed? When you knew your hard work was about to pay off, only to discover it wasn’t good enough? When your coworker got the promotion, raise, or bonus you hoped to secure? When someone else’s child got the full tuition scholarship? When God answered your best friend’s prayer but seemed to ignore yours?

We’ve all had times when our hearts have broken in disappointment. When we’ve smiled through our tears at someone else’s success or good fortune or hidden in the bathroom to cry.

If today is one of those days for you, I want to pray for you. 

Father, wrap your big strong arms around my dear sister. Hold her close and let her sob into your chest. Then, when the tears slow to a trickle and the sobs subside to an occasional hiccup, speak truth into her heart. Remind her that your timing is perfect, and you will withhold no good thing from those who walk uprightly. Renew her hope. 

Give her courage to try again, and again, and again, if that’s what’s needed. If she needs another approach, give her James 1:5 wisdom to know what it is. If you have a different plan for her, help her recognize it and obey you. Give her faith to trust your timing, your wisdom, and, most of all, your heart. In the mighty name of Jesus I pray, Amen. 


“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning,” (Psalm 30:5). 
Now it’s your turn. When was the last time disappointment made you cry? How did God comfort you in your pain? Leave a comment below and share your story. And if you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online and leave a comment.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

40 Minutes to Live?

Passengers on Wednesday's United Airlines Flight 1175 thought they might die.


Midway through their trip from San Francisco to Honolulu,  they heard a loud bang. The aircraft began shaking. Passengers on the right side of the plane noticed parts of the engine cover flapping violently, then flying off.

The pilot radioed the Honolulu airport to say he’d be making an emergency landing. "Please have fire and rescue personnel on the ground."

No one knew if they’d make it.

Flight attendants reviewed safety protocol, coaching passengers how to brace for impact, exit the plane using inflatable slides, and detach their seat bottoms to use as flotation devices if the aircraft crashed in the sea.

With those protocols covered, all they had left to do was wait, questions swirling in their heads like confetti at a ticker tape parade. Would the plane make it to Honolulu? Would it crash into the sea? Would it have to make an emergency landing at the airport? 

“It was the scariest flight of my life,” one passenger said later. 

“I thought we were going to die,” another said. 

Forty minutes. Such a short time, yet probably an eternity to those passengers, crew, and family members waiting to hear their fate. 

Once the emergency landing briefing ended, all they could do was wait. Some passengers took pictures of the damaged engine and tweeted about what was going on. Others texted final messages to their loved ones. 

“I told my family what was going on,” one woman said later, “and then I told them I loved them.” 

If you were on that flight, what would you do with what could be the last 40 minutes of your life? 

Were there any Christians on board? I wondered. Did anyone stand up and share the gospel? 


The average Boeing 777 carries 300 to 400 passengers. If you knew you and 400 people around you might die in the next 40 minutes, would you care about where they were going to spend eternity? Would you share your faith? 

Would I? 

I can’t say for sure. I’ve never been in a situation like that, but I hope so. I hope I’d accept the courage the Holy Spirit would give to stand boldly, risk embarrassment, disregard what others might say, and testify of the hope God gives. 

Whether the plane landed safely on the ground and I continued my vacation, or it crashed into the sea and my life ended, my destiny is safe in the arms of Jesus. Would I share this life-changing assurance or keep it to myself? 

Would you? 

I hope we never find ourselves in a plane over the ocean watching pieces of an aircraft fly off and fall into the sea. But we sit beside people every day whose life could end unexpectedly. 

While there may not be 400 of them, there are probably a few who don’t know where they’ll spend eternity. They don’t know Jesus took the punishment for their sin so they don’t have to. And they don’t know that whether they die today or in 50 years, they desperately need the hope that is only found in Jesus. 

It’s up to us to tell them. 

Thankfully, the San Francisco/Honolulu flight landed safely. Passengers disembarked and continued their day as planned. But they might not have. 

Today, I challenge you, as God has challenged me -- look around. Prayerfully consider who might need the hope you have in Jesus. Ask God to open the door to share your faith. Then walk through it.

It could change someone’s life forever. 

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect,” (1 Peter 3:15).



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Sucker Punch on the Second Row

There’s nothing like a sucker punch to the gut to get your attention. 

You’d think a church service would be a safe place, and the second row of the church one of the safest of all. But with increasing levels of church-related violence, apparently even the most hallowed of sanctuaries aren’t totally protected. And who would have known a pastor was capable of delivering such a mean right hook?

Truth be told, the real blame for the sobering blow I received on Sunday morning belongs not to my pastor/husband, but to the Lord – and the living, active power of his Word.

The service started out well. Heartwarming prayer, uplifting music, a time of praise for what God had done in the past week. Then my pastor/husband introduced his sermon topic – Caleb, one of the twelve spies the Israelites sent into Canaan.


You know the story (and can probably sing the song – Twelve men went to spy on Canaan, ten were bad and two were good). The spies confirmed that the land God had promised them was a good land, filled with milk and honey. 

BUT (and this was a big but), there were giants in the land. Big, hairy, scary giants.

“The land we explored devours those living in it. All the people we saw there are of great size. We saw the Nephilim there . . . We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them" (Num. 13:33).

“Then Caleb silenced the people before Moses and said, ‘We should go up and take possession of the land, for we can certainly do it.’" 

“But the men who had gone up with him said, ‘We can't attack those people; they are stronger than we are.’”

That’s when God got mad. 

And whooooooeeeeee, you do not want to be around when God gets mad. It’s also when I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs from the impact of his Words.

“The LORD said to Moses, ‘How long will these people treat me with contempt? How long will they refuse to believe in me, in spite of all the miraculous signs I have performed among them?’” (Num. 14:11).

All of a sudden, God wasn’t talking to Moses anymore. Or the ten bad spies. Or even the faithless Israelites. 

He was talking to me. 

 And what he was saying took my breath away and made me hang my head in shame. This is what it sounded like in non-King James English: 

“How often will you wring your hands in fear when someone you love is sick, or hurt, or wayward? How many times will you doubt my ability to meet your needs? How long will you fret over circumstances you can’t manipulate or control?” 

“How long will you refuse to believe in my ability to care for you, in spite of all the miraculous works I have performed in your life?” 

I fell off a slide when I was seven years old. The impact broke my right arm and knocked the breath from my lungs. I couldn’t speak for several minutes. After I gathered my wits together, I picked myself up off the ground and ran to the teacher. 

On Sunday, when my breath returned, I gathered my wits together, picked myself up off the proverbial ground, and ran to the Teacher. 

Father, I prayed, I confess my sin before you. I doubt you when you have never, ever given me a reason to question your ability or your commitment. My fear flies in the face of your faithfulness and my faltering trust treats you with contempt. In the 35 years since you saved me, you have met my needs, filled my life with good things, and given me hope and purpose. You’ve walked with me through dark and scary times and brought beauty from ashes. Whenever fear tempts me to doubt, remind me of all you have done in the past. Grow my faith. Help me, like Joshua and Caleb, to walk boldly into the future you have planned for me. 

Now it’s your turn. Do you struggle to trust God in the face of frightening circumstances? What Scripture passages strengthen your faith? Leave a comment below. If you’re reading by email, CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online and leave a comment.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Are You Hungry? How to Stimulate Your Appetite for God's Word

One of my favorite scenes from the Disney movie, 101 Dalmations is when Rolly, the roly poly puppy who loves to eat says to his mother, “I’m hungry, Mother, really I am.” Even though it seemed like he ate every waking moment of his life, his voracious appetite was never satisfied. 

My friends with teenage sons can identify. 

“Mom, I’m hungry. What is there to eat?” 

“I’m starving, Mom. There’s no food in this house.” 

Satisfying a growing child’s need for food is relentless. The fridge needs to be replenished frequently, the grocery bills are astronomical, and the cooking and clean up never stops. But an appetite is a sign of a healthy, growing body—something to be celebrated. 

My friend Jules has always taken her son Charlie’s healthy appetite for granted – until recently. Struck by back-to-back viruses accompanied by high fevers, her son stopped eating. A middle-of-the night trip to the ER confirmed her concerns that he was one sick little boy. 

The Bible often describes God’s Word as food and invites us to eat our fill from its bounty. Young believers, like young children, are often so hungry for God’s Word that they can’t seem to get enough. They read their Bibles every day, memorize Scripture, and dive into Bible studies. Taking notes during Sunday sermons, they look for ways to apply what they’ve learned to their everyday lives. 

Sadly, however, many believers lose their fervency about God’s Word as the newness of their decision for Christ wears off. They ruin their appetite with a junk food diet of secular music, media, and friends. Their lives veer off course, and they lose focus, purpose, and direction.

Or perhaps sin has made them sick. Like Jules’s son Charlie, they reject the very nourishment they need to get well. 

The cure for spiritual starvation is simple. “Open your mouth wide,” says the Lord in Psalm 81:10, “and I will fill it.”  

If your appetite for spiritual food has been waning, here are three appetite-stimulating tips: 

1.  Pick a short, practical book of the Bible and commit to read one chapter every day BEFORE you check your email, computer, or social media accounts. After reading, write down one way you can apply what you’ve read to your life. I recommend the New Testament book of James as a great place to begin. 

2.  Download a Bible app on your phone (my favorite is Bible Gateway) and listen to a portion of Scripture every day as you drive or exercise. My favorite reader is Max McLean. With a voice as rich and smooth as chocolate, he makes the Scripture come alive to me. 

3.  Read a different version of the Bible. While some versions are paraphrases, not translations, and thus not suitable for study purposes, a well-written paraphrase can touch our hearts as well as our minds. One blogger I know often reads the Living Bible. Many of my friends enjoy the Chronological Study Bible, which arranges the books of the Bible in the order in which they were written. And if you’re accustomed to reading the NIV, why not dust off that majestic King James Version sitting on your bookshelf? 

The Huffington Post article “Poll: Americans Love the Bible But Don’t Read It Much” reveals that 88 percent of respondents to an American Bible Society poll own a Bible, and the average household has 4.4 Bibles. 

Sadly, the majority of people surveyed (57 percent) said they only read their Bibles four times a year or less. Only 26 percent said they read their Bibles regularly. 

God has prepared a feast for us on the pages of his Word, and he is eager to share it with us. If junk food, apathy, or sin sickness has robbed you of your appetite, why not try one of the suggestions above? Come to the Lord, who eagerly desires to “fill the hungry with good things.” 

He’ll be delighted to hear you say, “I’m hungry, Father, really I am.”

Now it's your turn. When your interest in reading the Bible wanes, what do you do to get back on track? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts. If you're reading by email, click HERE to visit Hungry for God online and leave a comment.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher