Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 49

3 Ways to Hear God Speak

Have you ever heard God speak? 

If you ask this question, you’ll get a variety of answers. 


“I hear God speak all the time.” 

“I’ve never heard God speak.” 

“Sometimes I think I hear God speak, but I’m not sure.” 

“God speaks to special people, like Billy Graham, but he’s too busy to speak to ordinary people.” 

One morning recently I was struggling. Unexpected circumstances had pulled the rug out from under us, and a thousand thoughts were whirling through my head. 

“Lord, I need a word from you,” I prayed. 

Every morning I read  The One Year Bible , so I opened it to the reading for the day. I began by reading 2 Samuel 22. The final words of the chapter were, “(God) is the tower of salvation to his king, and shows mercy to his anointed, to David and his descendants forevermore.” 

I know this passage was originally written about Israel’s King David, but my husband’s name is also David. Through this ancient passage, God reminded me that he would show mercy to my husband and my family. That God would send such a specific passage, with my husband’s name in it, was very sweet and comforting to me. 

On the way to church, I checked my email. My friend Heather, who had no idea what was going on in our lives, sent me an encouraging note, which she ended with a Scripture reference, Romans 15:1-13. I looked up the verses, and verses 4, 12, and 13 stood out: 

“For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope. . . . Isaiah says, "The Root of Jesse will spring up, one who will arise to rule over the nations; the Gentiles will hope in him." May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” 

And when we reached church and settled into our Sunday school class, our teacher stood before the group and wrote four big letters on a dry erase board: H – O – P—E. 

Do you think God answered my prayer? And what do you think his message to me was? 

This series of events is a classic example of a few of the ways God speaks to his children. 


One of the most common ways he speaks is through his Word. When I opened my Bible that morning, I heard a personal and powerful word from the Lord. 

God also speaks through his people. My friend who sent the email had no idea our family was struggling; she simply obeyed what God told her to do—send Lori an encouraging email and share this Scripture passage with her. 

God also speaks through preaching and teaching. My Sunday school teacher presented material that someone had written and published years ago, but God used it (and her) to remind me to have hope, even when circumstances say otherwise. 

I began this post by sharing several responses to the question, “Have you ever heard God speak?” My recent experience demonstrated three ways God has spoken to me. 

I realize, however, that if I hadn’t positioned myself to hear him, I might have missed his voice. If I hadn’t read my Bible that morning, I wouldn’t have read the Scripture that used my husband’s name. If I hadn’t cultivated friendships with godly believers, I wouldn’t have received my friend’s encouraging email. If I hadn’t gone to church, I would have missed the HOPE-filled message from my Sunday school teacher. 

Our family experienced an unexpected challenge, but we were not unprepared. Because we had built spiritual disciplines into our lives, we were positioned to be able to hear God when he spoke. The reassurance we received bolstered our faith, calmed our fears, and reminded us that he is fully in control. And that, my friends, is what the Christian life is all about.

Have you ever heard God speak? How does he usually speak to you? Leave a comment below and join the conversation. If you're reading by email, click here to visit Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom of the post, share your thoughts.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

4 Things I Learned from the Flu

This year our country has experienced the worst flu season in more than a decade. Hundreds of thousands of people have suffered through the fever, cough, headache, and muscle pain that characterize this sometimes-deadly disease. Only in this week (Week 19 of the official flu season) have numbers of flu cases finally dropped below the national baseline. 

If you are one of its victims, I extend my deepest sympathy. From my sickbed. 

This has been a bad winter for our family. We’ve been sick a lot, but this eight-day grand finale case of the flu has reminded me of a few life principles. 

1. We are frail creatures. 
Any health and strength we possess is a gift from God. Without him to give us the breath in our lungs, we are undone. 

2. Our bodies are amazing creations. 
Once my doctor ruled out any infection, he pronounced, “Take Motrin and Tylenol for the pain, rest, and within a week or two, you’ll feel as good as new.” 

Whaaaat?! That’s it? Lie there and do nothing? But then I realized that his words were an official vote of confidence attesting to our body’s ability to heal itself. Even medical intervention wouldn’t work without the intricate systems that allow our bodies to kill germs, repair cells, and restore health. 

3. We need each other. 
If it wasn’t for the kind ministrations of my sweet husband who fetched endless glasses of ginger ale; washed countless loads of sheets, towels, and pajamas; and endured my pathetic whimpering, I wouldn’t have survived. 

Compassionate friends and family brought me chicken soup, vegetable soup, and tomato soup. One loaned me her diffuser and selected just the right oils to sweeten the atmosphere in my home. Several overrode my foolish independence and sent meals anyway. Thank you. 

4. Choosing gratitude, even in the midst of suffering, has healing effects. 
One morning in the shower, I lost it. Five days of over 102 degree fever and a non-stop ice pick headache had pushed me to my limit. I sniffled and whimpered for a few minutes as the water poured down my back, but then gratitude trickled in. 

I’m so glad I don’t have a cough along with the headache. That would really be unbearable. I’m thankful I have an understanding boss that isn’t going to fire me for missing work. And friends and family have been so kind to care for me. Where would I be without them? 

By the time I wobbled my way out of the shower, nothing had changed about my situation, but I felt much more encouraged. Instead of grumbly, I felt grateful. 

Yesterday was my first fever-free day, so I think I’m going to live. To all of you who have helped care for a sick family member or friend this winter, God bless you. As you’ve done it unto the least of us, you’ve done it unto Jesus. And he and I are mighty grateful. 

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you . . . sick or in prison and go to visit you?' "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me'” (Mat. 25:37, 39).



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

When You're in the Storm

Prayer is a lonely business.

Especially those middle of the night prayers, when the world is asleep, and we are awake. Our hearts grow faint when darkness looms loud and the sky seems an impenetrable ceiling.

Satan, that deceiver of the brethren, whispers softly, so as not to awaken those resting peacefully nearby. He might as well shout it from the housetops; it’s already ringing loudly in our ears—

Why bother?

What’s the use? 

How long will you continue to pray?

Sometimes he’s the snake in the garden. Did God really say . . . 

Other times he’s a ventriloquist, using Job’s wife as his puppet. Curse God and die.

Our ears fill with tears, reservoirs for the streams that leak from our eyes unchecked into salty puddles. We lie there, frightened, paralyzed by what if’s and the worst possible scenario, some of which has already come true. Our minds defeat us before we breathe our first prayer, and we gasp our pleas to an almighty God whom we’ve rendered powerless by our lack of faith.

“But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does” (James 1:6-8).

“. . . but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it” (Mat. 14:24).

And the waves threaten to drown us, and the sea rages around us, and the sky is inky black.

Yet it was in that fourth watch of the night—the most profound of darkness—that Jesus came to them, walking on the lake, because even mustard seed faith is enough to summon the Lord of the seas.

"Take courage!” he calls, “It is I. Don't be afraid." 

"Lord, if it's you," Peter (and we) reply, "tell me to come to you on the water."

"Come," he said. 

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"

And our fledgling faith steps falter, and we sink flailing into the sea.


Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" 

And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."

If you’re weeping in the darkness and drowning in the sea today, take comfort. The wind and the waves obey our Lord’s command. Satan is a defeated foe who trembles at his name. And the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective (James 5:16).

Pray on, dear friend, and rest in the knowledge that there’s no safer place than in the eye of the storm if Jesus is in the boat with you.

“Christianity,” a wise pastor once said, “is less about you holding on to God, and more about him holding on to you.”

"When my life was ebbing away, I remembered you, Lord, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy temple. Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs. But I, with a song of thanksgiving, will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make good. Salvation comes from the Lord" (Jonah 2:7-9).

What storm are you facing today? If you’ll leave your name in the comment box, I’d like to pray for you.


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

How an Unbeliever's Words Grew My Faith

“I’m so worried,” I said to my classmates. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for school next year. My scholarship has run out. I don’t have money for tuition, let alone uniforms and instruments.” 

Spring semester was coming to a close in my first year of dental hygiene school. It had been a good year. I had done well in class, despite having to study harder than I’d ever studied in my life. I’d passed the dreaded Head and Neck Anatomy class, the “weeder” course deemed most likely to eliminate marginal students. With the most difficult courses behind me, I was poised to enter the clinical part of my training in the fall. 

Except, with no second-year scholarship and no way to pay my tuition, I wondered aloud if I was going to have to drop out. Then one of my classmates spoke from the back of the lunch room where we had gathered. 

“You say you believe God provided for you to be here. Don’t you think he can provide what you need to finish?” 

Her words hung there for a moment in the now-silent lunch room. Like mechanical dolls, every head turned in my direction, waiting for my response. Shame coursed through my body, and a red flush crept up my neck. This non-Christian had demonstrated more faith in God than I had. 

My Christian classmates smiled gently. My non-Christian classmates, the ones with whom I’d eagerly shared stories of how God was working in my life, waited for my response. 

“You’re absolutely right,” I said. "He can."

The conversation turned to other matters, and as quickly as I could, I left the room. Standing alone in the bathroom, tears pricked my eyes and conviction pierced my heart. 

“I’m sorry, Lord,” I whispered. “I didn’t trust you. You had to use an unbeliever to remind me of what I should have known.” 

I remembered that shameful day recently when I read the account of the Gibeonites in Joshua 9. The Israelites had conquered kingdom after kingdom as they made their way into the Promised Land. Pagan nations who had rejected God and chose instead to worship false idols and defile the land with their depravity fell, one by one. 

As six nations banded together in a feeble attempt to defend themselves, the citizens of Gibeon took a different approach. “If what we’ve heard about the God of the Israelites is true,” they said, “we have no hope of defending ourselves.” 

Instead of allying themselves with the other nations, they cooked up a sneaky plot. They disguised themselves as travelers from a faraway nation. Arriving in the Israelites camp wearing worn clothes and shoes and carrying moldy bread and old wine skins, they convinced them that they were distant neighbors. The Israelites agreed to a truce, promising that no harm would come to them. This verse from Joshua 9:14 explains why the Gibeonites were able to deceive them: 

“. . . but they did not ask counsel of the Lord.” 

Like my college classmate, the Gibeonites showed more faith in God and his plans and purposes than the Israelites did. And I, like the Israelites, had evaluated my present situation and come to a conclusion without talking to God about it. 

Thankfully, unlike the situation with the Gibeonites, I hadn’t gone so far in my independent thinking that there was no way back. 

“Lord,” I prayed, “please forgive me for my lack of faith. You’ve been faithful to provide for me so far, and I trust you to provide for me in the future. If you want me to continue my studies, please provide the money I need.” 

Later that week I met with my academic adviser. When I explained the situation, she helped me fill out an application for financial aid. Because I had lost my scholarship, I now qualified for additional assistance. 

When the award check arrived, I had enough money to pay tuition, books, uniforms, and instruments. 

Guess who was the first person I shared the good news with? Yup, my thought-provoking, faith-inspiring non-Christian classmate. 

“Thank you for reminding me of what I already knew,” I said with a hug, “that where God guides, he always provides.” 

Now it’s your turn. Has God ever used a non-believer to grow your faith? I’d love to hear your story. Leave a comment in the box 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

A Surpring Reason Why You Can't Skip Your Quiet TIme

I might not have noticed the repeated words if I had been reading my Bible instead of listening to it. 


Sometimes when I’m short on time, I multitask by walking and listening to the Bible. I’m committed to reading the Bible through in a year, which takes approximately 15 minutes a day. I read a portion of the Old Testament, a portion of the New, and snippets from Psalms and Proverbs. 

When my schedule is tight, I struggle with the desire to read the Bible and the desire to take a walk. I solved the dilemma the day I discovered the audio option on Bible Gateway. It’s a free app for phone or iPad. I open the app, select the section of Scripture I want to listen to, and voila’! Max McLean’s rich voice fills my ears with God’s Word. 

Recently, I stuffed my headphones into my ears, dialed up the eighth chapter of Joshua on my iPhone, and took a walk. “Now the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed;’” McLean read in his rich baritone. 

Here’s the context: Joshua was preparing to lead the children of Israel into battle against Ai for the second time. The first time, you may remember, the Israelites suffered a profound defeat. One of their soldiers, Achan, had sinned by taking forbidden items from the spoils, and God had removed his hand of blessing from the army. It’s not surprising, then, that Joshua needed some extra encouragement before he headed back into the fray. 

“Do not be afraid or be dismayed; take all the people of war with you, and arise, go up to Ai. See, I have given into your hand the king of Ai, his people, his city and his land,” the Lord said. 

“Do not be afraid or dismayed.” These words rang in my ears.

Half a mile and two chapters later, McLean read Joshua 10:25. This time, Joshua was speaking to the children of Israel as they prepared to conquer the remainder of the Promised Land.

“Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed;” 

When I heard the same words, repeated with passion and conviction, my ears perked up. When God repeats himself, it’s important. 

God told Joshua not to be afraid or dismayed, then Joshua told the Israelites not to be afraid or dismayed. Joshua received encouragement from the Lord, then he shared it with the people around him. 


I realized I can do the same thing Joshua did. And so can you. 

When we read God’s Word, God speaks to us. His Word encourages us, challenges us, inspires us, and gives us hope and direction. When we share what we read with others, we encourage them, challenge them, inspire them, and give them hope and direction. 

God pours his Word into us, and then it flows through us to others. 

Jesus promised, “Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them” (John 7:38). 

When we understand this, it gives extra meaning to our times of Bible reading. And extra motivation not to skip it. It’s bad if I miss a word from the Lord. It’s really bad if I miss a word from the Lord that I’m supposed to share with someone else. 

Every day I need wisdom, hope, and direction. And every day I encounter others who need wisdom, hope, and direction. God provides this through his Word, and then he gives us the privilege of sharing it with others. 

I encourage you, the next time you read God’s Word, pay attention. God has something for you, and, perhaps, something for you to share. Don’t miss it.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Rest or Rustle? How To Handle What Scares You

Thankfully, the mother bird saw the rat snake before the rat snake saw her.
She was perched on the edge of the nest she had woven in my hanging basket, a wriggling worm dangling from her beak. Ready to drop it into the open mouth of one of her fledglings, she froze, then quickly hopped into the nest. Her squawking babies quieted as she covered them with her outstretched wings. Hunkering down atop her tiny charges, she blended into the foliage until the slithering serpent passed by.
Those babies may have been newly hatched, but they knew something I sometimes forget—that danger is an invitation to trust. As my friend Nan Jones says, “It’s better to rest than to rustle.” The Psalmist puts it this way:
“I will trust in the shelter of your wings,” (Psalm 61:4).
When danger threatens me or my family, my default setting is to start squawking. I cry. I fret. I call my friends. I wring my hands and wail as if the Philistines were storming the gates. I work myself into an emotional tizzy that would rival a two-year-old’s bedtime meltdown. In the end, I’m left spent and exhausted.
On other days, when my heart is full of God’s Word and I’ve spent time in prayer, I react much differently. Like the baby birds in my geranium, I seek the shadow of my heavenly Father’s protective wings and rest quietly, trusting that he will care for me.


What about you? How do you react when something scary threatens you? When are you more likely to respond with faith instead of fear? Leave a comment below and join the conversation. If you're reading by email, click HERE to leave a comment at the bottom of the post.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

How to Live when Every Day Is Saturday -- An Easter Saturday Reflection

I think we all agree that Good/Bad Friday is the ultimate horror show of the Bible.


Think about it. The story has all the necessary elements of a nightmare thriller. It begins with a protagonist who brings hope and healing to a downtrodden people. He’s the Friend of sinners who champions the cause of the poor, the sick, and the oppressed. He challenges the twin demagogues of religion and government and vanquishes them with his wisdom and intellect. He’s witty, quick-thinking, and compassionate. And he loves and cares for his mother – can a hero get any better than that?

A surprise plot twist finds him betrayed by one of his closest confidants, abandoned by his friends, and arrested by corrupt, power-hungry men. The dark villain and mastermind of this fiendish plot, Satan himself, cackles with glee as they nail his shredded body to a cross. And then he dies.

Not the happy ending everyone expected. Least of all his disciples.

If Good/Bad Friday is the horror show of the Bible, then Resurrection Sunday is the ultimate feel good movie. The hero kicks the teeth out of death’s ravenous mouth, delivers the antidote for sin, and paves the way for all who believe to live forever with him in the wonderland of heaven.

He rewards the faithful and punishes the wicked. His triumph resounds with all the bells and whistles heaven can muster – an earthquake, angels, and a vanishing body. No longer bound by the frailty of human flesh, the conquering hero amazes his followers with the ability to read minds, appear and disappear, and walk through locked doors.

But then there’s Saturday. The awful in between. 

Our lives are a lot like Saturday. At least that particular Saturday – the one usually overlooked in the middle of Good/Bad Friday and Resurrection Sunday.

If we’re believers, we’re living in that Saturday. We’ve surrendered our right to self-government and independence. We’ve turned our back on the old man who lived for himself and thrown in our lot with Jesus. We’ve irrevocably declared our desire to surrender, submit, and be sanctified.

We’ve died with Christ on Good/Bad Friday. 

“ . . . knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin. For he who has died has been freed from sin” (Rom. 6:6-7).

And we’ll live and reign with him in heaven forever one day – that’s Resurrection Sunday. 

We’ll shed our slimy scales of sinful flesh and don the robes of righteousness Christ has prepared for us. We’ll no longer be hindered by the frailties of our human bodies. No more sickness, pain, sorrow, or death. We’ll receive rewards for the deeds we did for Christ alone – gold, silver, and precious stones – and lay them at his feet. Faith will become sight, and all will be made right.

But in between, we live in Saturday, the netherworld between faith and sight. 

We believe Christ died, was buried, and rose again, but we have yet to see him. We spend our time, money, and energy to further the kingdom he promised, but few have seen it this side of the veil. We pray to a Savior we cannot see because we believe he can see us. We wait in confident expectation, hoping to receive the redemption of our bodies and our souls. But our faith isn’t sight on Saturday.

“For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. . .

“Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.

“But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently” (Rom. 8:20-22, 23-25).

As we live in the Saturday between Good/Bad Friday and Resurrection Sunday, take heart.

It’s Saturday, but Sunday’s coming.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

The One Thing It Takes to Witness for Jesus

I’m not surprised the disciples wouldn’t believe me. Why should they? I was the crazy one from whom the Lord cast out seven demons. The sinful woman with a past. 

I don’t even know why Salome and the other Mary and I went to the tomb in the first place. The disciples were hiding out, afraid the Romans were going to arrest them. We didn’t have much to worry about, I guess. They don’t consider women serious threats. Or serious disciples. 

It just didn’t seem right to leave him that way. Joseph and Nicodemus had wrapped his body. Thank goodness they had at least buried him instead of throwing him into a common grave with the criminals. But just to put him in the grave and leave him? 

So we went. We brought spices. But halfway there we realized we had no way to open the tomb. 

Turns out we shouldn’t have worried. There was the tomb – but the stone had been rolled away. 

I looked inside. There were the grave clothes, and the head cloth, but Jesus’ body was . . . GONE. 

Suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside us. We were so scared! And then one man spoke: 

"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'" 

And then we remembered his words. (Mat. 28:4-8). 

But it was so hard to wrap our minds around it.I’d cried a boatload of tears, and now, seeing the empty tomb, and the men, I cried a boatload more. I guess that’s why I didn’t see the gardener until he was right up on us. 

 “Sir, if you’ve taken him away, show me where you’ve laid him.” 

And then he called my name. “Mary,” and I knew. I knew it was him. It was true. He was alive! 

I flung myself at his feet, and just cried and cried and cried. Once again, there I was, anointing his feet with my tears. Only this time, instead of tears of shame and repentance, they were tears of JOY. 

“Don’t cling to me, Mary,” he said, “I haven’t gone to my Father. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me. Now Go!” 

I ran. I ran faster than I’d ever run before. I went to the place where the disciples were hiding. The door was locked, and I pounded and pounded, but they wouldn’t let me in. I’m sure they thought it was the Romans. 

Finally I called out, “It’s me, Mary. I’ve seen Jesus! He’s alive!” 

Well, that got their attention. They opened the door, and I told them all I’d seen. “He’s alive, I tell you. I saw him, and I touched him, and he spoke to me. He called me by name!” 

They looked at me like I was crazy. I knew what they were thinking. Seven demons. 

“Don’t you remember?” I said. “He told us he had to die, but after three days, he’d rise again. I tell you, I’ve seen him.” 

Finally Peter and John left, but the others, they just shook their heads, too sad and disappointed to believe. 

I don’t know why Jesus chose to appear to me first. I’m the least credible of all. I’m a woman. I have a sinful past. I’ve battled demons. I’m not well-educated or eloquent. 

But I believed it when Jesus said, “Your faith has saved you,” and I believe he has risen, just as he said. 

Maybe faith is all it takes to be a witness for Jesus.

What about you? Do you ever doubt your ability to be a witness for Jesus because of your past or your lack of gifts or talents? Are you willing to consider that all it takes to be a witness for Jesus is saving faith? 

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.

(This story comes from Mark 16:1-11.)

And if you enjoyed this post, you'll want to read the backstory in "What We Have in Common with Mary Magdalene."



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

There's No Way He Can Be Alive -- Is There?

I've never felt so ashamed in all my life. 

He told me it would happen "This very night you will all fall away on account of me.”

"Oh, no, Jesus," I said. "Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will."

"I tell you the truth,” he said, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times."

"Lord, Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you."

 All the other disciples said the same. “We would never betray you.”

But we did. Miserable lot of us all. 

Oh, I swung a sword and lopped off a guy’s ear, but when it really mattered –  I let him down. A servant girl. A little servant girl. She recognized my accent. Said I was a Galilean. That I’d been with Jesus.

I cursed. Oh, how I cursed.  I. DO. NOT. KNOW HIM.

And then the rooster crowed. And he looked at me.  Not angry. Not disappointed. Just . . . . unbelievably . . . sad.

My heart cracked in two. Oh how I wished I could take it all back. Have another chance to make him proud. But when I looked up again, they were leading him away . . . I have never cried harder in all my life. After all he’d done for me . . .

I don’t know why we gathered together that first day of the week. We’d been hiding all weekend, scared to death that the Roman soldiers would come to arrest us. But misery loves company, I guess. And we’d all failed him. 

“Jesus’ disciples.” How we loved to be called that. And loved to be seen with him – until the one time it really mattered. Then we ran like rats. What a bunch of losers.

And when the women came banging on the door – scared us to death. Was this it? Were the soldiers coming for us? We wouldn’t open the door until finally they shouted so loudly we recognized their voices and let them in.

They were all shouting and talking all a the same time – Mary the mother of James, Joanna, and Mary Magdalene. And they weren’t making any sense. They said they’d been to the tomb. But then there was an angel. And then they saw a gardener, only it wasn’t a gardener. And he said Mary’s name and she recognized him . . . And it was Jesus. . . more alive than he’d ever been. Talking with them. Something about going into Galilee . . .

It was all nonsense. We didn’t believe them.

And then Mary said something I couldn’t ignore “He said to tell the disciples . . . and Peter. . . . Peter, he mentioned you – by name. He wanted you to know.”

I looked at John, and he looked at me, and we ran out the door. For a moment, we weren’t thinking about Roman soldiers or the Pharisees, or getting arrested. All we could think of was Jesus.

Maybe we were wrong . . . But how? How could we be wrong? We saw them kill him.

We both ran toward the garden, then John ran on ahead. We found the stone and the empty tomb just the way that Mary’d said. John stopped at the entrance and peeked in. I barreled past him.

There was the stone slab they’d laid him on, and the burial cloths, but they were . . . empty. And the strangest thing – the face cloth – it was folded neatly, and placed off to the side, like you’d set aside something you’d used, but didn’t need any more. 

I don’t know what to make of it. I just don’t know . . . There’s no way he could be alive. . .

Is there?


(This post is based on Luke 21:1-12 and John 20:1-10.)





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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Ever Feel Punished and Passed Over? What We Can Learn from Caleb

I don’t have a son, and the son-in-laws I’ve acquired came already named. But if I had a son, I’d name him Caleb. Here’s why:

You may remember that Caleb was one of 12 spies who went into Canaan to scope out the land as the children of Israel prepared to conquer it. All 12 agreed the land was bountiful and “flowing with milk and honey,” but ten of the 12 were seriously concerned about the fortified cities and the Anakites—a race of giants who lived there.

Caleb and his buddy Joshua were unintimidated. “Let’s go in immediately. The cities are strong, the people are large, but with God as our helper, we can conquer this land!”

Reason #1 why I’d name my son Caleb: He wasn’t afraid of daunting tasks, because he knew God would help him. Caleb had faith.

You may also remember that because the Israelites were wimpy, frightened, and weak in their faith, God punished them by making them wander in the wilderness until every person who said no to God had perished. Even the mighty patriarch Moses sinned and didn’t get to go into the Promised Land.

This left two men standing—Joshua and Caleb. These men did everything right, but because of everyone else’s sin, they had to wander and wait for 38 years. But you know what? They kept their faith. They kept their integrity. They waited patiently, served their brothers, and continued to believe that God was going to do what he’d promised.

Reason #2 why I’d name my son Caleb: He suffered because of others’ sins, yet still maintained his integrity. Now it’s promotion time. God has told Moses he’s not going into the Promised Land, so it’s time to appoint a successor. There are only two candidates—Joshua and Caleb. Both are wise, godly, faithful, courageous men. God chooses Joshua, and Caleb gets passed over.

There’s no injustice here; God knows who’s most qualified to lead the Israelites. But don’t you think Caleb is a bit hurt and disappointed? I know I’d be.

How does he handle it? Does he throw a tantrum, howl about how unfair God is, take his marbles and go home? Nope. He just keeps serving the Lord. He supports Joshua, throws his wholehearted allegiance behind him, and continues to faithfully carry out his duties as a leader.

Reason #3 why I’d name my son Caleb: He served faithfully in the shadow of another leader.

And finally, Caleb went the distance. When the land was largely conquered, and it was time to settle into their respective cities, Kenneth Gangel, in The Holman Old Testament Commentary on Joshua, describes Joshua’s unusual request:

“Even after 85 difficult years, Caleb had a great attitude about serving God and fighting for him. He wasn’t tired out; in fact, he was just getting excited. He didn’t walk up to his old buddy Joshua to ask for a maintenance-free, energy-saving home. . . . No, he asked for the hill country still inhabited by giants. He wanted the very area that had intimidated the other ten spies . . .”



I love this about Caleb. When he could have justifiably asked for an easy retirement, he asked instead for a daunting task he could only accomplish with God’s help and enabling. He never took the easy way out. Elisabeth Elliot is famous for saying, “When you have a choice between two things, choose the harder.”

Reason #4 why I’d name my son Caleb: He chose the harder thing.

Caleb is an amazing man of God. He clung to his faith, stood for God even when it cost him something, served faithfully in the shadow of another leader, and chose to do hard things. He’s a man I admire, respect, and want to emulate. He’s a man worthy of naming a son after, don’t you think?

I’ve barely skimmed the surface of Caleb’s life, but maybe I’ve whetted your appetite. If you’d like to read more about Caleb, check out his story beginning in Numbers 13. If you’re already familiar with this great man, what do you admire most about him? Or maybe you’d like to name your son after another godly hero of the faith. Leave a comment in the box below and share your thoughts.





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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher