Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 58

What Justice Taught Me about Mercy

I really like my friend Jean’s dog, Justice. A Golden Retriever, he’s handsome, loving, and loyal. I look forward to going to Jean’s home, not just because I enjoy her company, but because I get to pet Justice. 

The last time I visited, Justice came bounding around the corner of the house as soon as I pulled into the driveway. Noticing that he’d stopped about 20 yards away, I called to him. 

“Hey, Justice. C’mere buddy, I want to pet you.” 

Justice’s tail wagged. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth in a happy, slobbery grin. But he didn’t budge from his spot. 

“What’s wrong with Justice?” I asked. 

“Oh, he won’t come,” Jean said. “We have an invisible fence. . . Of course, he isn’t wearing his collar, but it doesn’t matter. He won’t cross the line.” 

Justice and I have a lot in common. 

Some days I romp in the fields of freedom, loving and being loved. I share my faith with joy and step into opportunities God gives me with bold abandon. 

Other days I wear the collar of past sins, failures, and insecurities. I allow myself to become entangled in the yoke of legalistic bondage I could never satisfy. I hesitate to share my faith because the choke chain of imperfection silences the mercy truth on my lips. I second-guess God-given opportunities because of the suffocating noose of fear. I'm afraid to cross boundaries of my own making.

But in God’s kingdom, there are no collars or invisible fences. 

"Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free,” the apostle Paul proclaimed, “and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.” (Gal. 5:1). 


“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death” (Rom. 8:1). 

“And he that sat upon the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new!”” (Rev. 21:5). 

What collar is keeping you from walking into God’s plan for your life? If Jesus is your Savior, you don’t have to wear it any more. 

What invisible fence is holding you back? If Christ is Lord of your life, it no longer has the power to limit you. Take the collar off. Step over the invisible fence. Walk into the purpose for which God created you. 

“So if the Son sets you free,” Jesus promised, “you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

How My Mom Went from Out-of-Touch to the Wisest Woman on the Planet -- A Mothers Day Tribute

L-R My sister, Dad, Mom, and me :)I’m not sure how my mother went from being out-of-touch to being the wisest woman on the planet, but I remember my dawning awareness of her greatness. 

 The first inkling of her buried wisdom came on the day my husband and I moved into our first home. Mom came to help me unpack, and I eagerly showed her the living room curtains I’d picked out. And the decorative rods. And the mini-blinds. 

Then it dawned on me—I didn’t have a clue how to hang them. Those were the days before YouTube videos and tutorials, and I had no life experience from which to draw. Prepared to suspend my decorating until my husband got home, I turned to her and said, “I have no idea how to hang this stuff.” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. She took the hardware out of my hands, grabbed a screwdriver, and went to work. In no time at all, my blinds were up, and my curtains were hanging beautifully. 

I’d forgotten that she and dad had built our little house in Rhode Island from the outer walls in. Working in an unheated shell in the middle of winter with only a kerosene heater for warmth, they installed plumbing and electricity, hung sheet rock, and laid flooring. Compared to building a house, curtain rods and mini-blinds were kindergarten exercises.

My first few years of married life provided additional glimpses of my mom’s intelligence. I re-discovered that she knew how to make jam. And give permanents (Remember Farah Fawcett hair?). And paint. 

I knew she could do all these things when I was a child, but when I entered adolescence, I think she lost those abilities. Or perhaps I didn’t value them. 

But I’ll never forget the day she moved from clueless to genius in my eyes. We'd brought brought our first daughter home from the hospital five days earlier. Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, aching from a C-section, and clueless about how to care for a baby, I opened the door to her smiling face. She’d offered to spend the week with us, helping us acclimate. 

That week was when my mother’s genius shone. When she diapered the baby, my daughter’s runny explosions stayed in rather than leaking all over my lap. When she cried inconsolably, my mom soothed her with a pat/bob/sway maneuver that rivaled the most graceful dancer. When it was time for her first bath, she showed me how to wash my slippery, floppy baby without drowning her. And in between, she fixed meals, washed laundry, and drank leisurely cups of coffee. I was convinced. She was brilliant. 

The subsequent 27 years have only served to reinforce my belief that my mom is one smart cookie.

I don't know where you are in your mothering journey. Maybe your toddlers consider you a rock star and think you're the smartest mommy on the planet. Or maybe you're in the out-of-touch stage, and your teenagers are discounting most of what you say. Perhaps you're getting smarter, and your young adult kids occasionally see sparks of genius. Or maybe you're receiving the reward of your parenting--your children are arising and calling you "blessed." 

Whichever stage you find yourself, rest assured. God sees the sacrifices you're making on behalf of your children. He hears the prayers you pray for them. And he will reward you. Even if our children never speak words of commendation and honor, God will. 

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers" (Gal. :9).

This Sunday is Mother's Day. Whether you are a mother, have a mother, or have been blessed by someone who isn't your mother, take a moment to speak words of thanks and affirmation to the women who have helped make you who you are. You'll be blessed and so will they. 

Happy Mother's Day. 

*Portions of this post appeared in the Editor's Letter of Reach Out, Columbia magazine, May 2017.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

What to Do When Life Gets Scary

I’ve always found lizards fascinating. Here in South Carolina, I often see bright green anoles sunning themselves on a rail or climbing the screens of my back porch. I admire their bright colors, especially when they puff up their colorful necks. They look like they’ve swallowed a tiny pink balloon. 

My favorite 3-year-old, Lauren, also finds them interesting. She spotted one the other day when we were puttering around the backyard. 


“Gigi, catch him!” she said. “I want to hold him.” 

“I don’t want to catch him!" I said. "I don’t like the way their claws feel on my skin. You catch him.” 

Eyeing the stringy amphibian warily, she considered it for a moment, then shook her head. 

“We need a daddy,” she pronounced. 

"Yes,” I agreed. “We need a daddy.” 

I thought of Lauren’s words recently. Sometimes I, too, come face to face with something scary or intimidating. My courage falters, and I realize I don’t have the wherewithal to handle it myself. That’s when I call on my daddy—my heavenly father who promises never to leave me or forsake me. My champion, defender, and wise counselor—and maybe even my lizard-catcher. 


Psalm 145:18 tells me, “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.” 

I’ve never encountered a situation too big, too complex, or too scary for my heavenly father. With limitless resources and mighty strength, he is always ready and willing to help. 

King David experienced God’s willingness to help, and we can too. Listen to his words in 2 Samuel 22:7: 

“In my distress I called upon the LORD, and cried to my God: and he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did enter into his ears.” 

If you’re facing something scary or intimidating today, I hope you’ll realize, like my little Lauren did, that you need a daddy. Claim the promise of Psalm 145:18. Recognize that the Lord is near. Call upon him. Watch for his answer. You will not be disappointed. 

Now it’s your turn. Has there been a time when you’ve encountered a situation too big to handle on your own, and you cried out to God? How did he answer you?



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Do We Really Know God?

Have you ever thought you knew someone, only to discover you didn’t? 

I received a Facebook message the other day from a friend I’ll call Diane. She shared a prayer request for a mutual friend, mentioned a writers conference she was planning to attend, and asked me for information about a book I’d reviewed on my blog. 

I responded with the details she needed, but the whole time I was composing the message, a question kept niggling in my brain. Where do I know her from? I mentally scrolled through what I knew about her—she had a couple of grown kids, a cute Yorkie, was mutual friends with Pat and Jean, and had recently retired. 

But have I ever met her? 

I realized that even though I could rattle off quite a few facts about her life, I didn’t really know her. We might have attended the same conference. We shared a few friends, but all I knew about her I’ve gleaned from the occasional Facebook post that appeared in my news feed. I knew Diane, but I’d never met her. 

The Apostle Paul didn’t have Facebook, but he faced a similarly awkward situation. All his life he thought he knew God. Studied him. Knew a lot of details about his life. Read his book. Hung out with people who said they knew him. 

But he’d never met him. 

Listen to Paul’s own words: "I am a Jew, born in Tarsus of Cilicia, but brought up in this city. Under Gamaliel I was thoroughly trained in the law of our fathers and was just as zealous for God as any of you are today” (Act. 22:3). 

But then the surprising message came: “Saul! Saul! Why do you persecute me?” 

Faced with the truth, Paul had to admit it—he didn’t really know the God he’d purported to know: “Who are you, Lord?” he cried. 

Blinded, horrified to discover that he’d been persecuting genuine followers of God, and overwhelmed by the knowledge that he’d missed the Messiah, he came face to face with the Savior. 

"I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting.” 

Many people have a similar experience as Paul. They’ve grown up in religious homes. Read the Bible and perhaps even memorized it. They’ve attended church. Volunteered in the nursery. Given money. But they’ve never met Jesus. 

Paul realized what each of us must acknowledge—that Jesus is the Messiah, he died to take the punishment we deserve for sin, and he rose again to prove it was sufficient. Once Paul did, God’s instructions to him were clear: “Get up, be baptized and wash your sins away, calling on his name” (Act. 22:16). 

When I was 18 years old, I walked a church aisle, prayed a prayer, and shed a few tears. Like Paul, I’d learned about God, read his Word, and volunteered at church. I even put money in the offering plate. 

But I hadn’t met Jesus. 

Little by little, he revealed himself to me. Then, one day, he broke my heart over my sin. He helped me realize I’d been living my life my way and not doing a very good job of it. I confessed, repented, and trusted Jesus with my whole being—my past, my present, my future, and my eternity. 

Second Corinthians 5:17 says, “. . . if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new,” and it was true.

From that moment on, my life began to change. I knew Christ had come to live in my heart, because I had a changed attitude about sin. I could no wantonly longer ignore God’s principles. I found myself wanting to go to church because God was there, not to see and be seen. I felt myself drawn to read and study my Bible, and even though I was naturally introverted, I began to share what God was doing in my life with others. 

Paul experienced a similar life change. Then God gave him a life-changing assignment: “The God of our fathers has chosen you to know his will and to see the Righteous One and to hear words from his mouth. You will be his witness to all men of what you have seen and heard” (Acts 22:14). 

Salvation is available to all, John 3:16 tells us, but “not everyone who says to (him), ‘Lord, Lord!’ will enter the kingdom of heaven.” 

If you’re unsure of your relationship with Christ, ask yourself these three questions: 


1. What are you trusting in to get into heaven? A good life? Kind deeds? Charitable giving? Parents who know God? If your answer is anything but what Jesus did on the cross, you are trusting in a false gospel. Ephesians 2:8-9 tells us, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” 

2. Was there a moment in your life when you confessed your sin, repented (changed direction), and surrendered your life to God? Romans 10:9 promises, “That if you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” 

3. Has there been a change in your life since then? Are you becoming more like Christ? Christians aren’t sinless, but they should sin less. “Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did” (1 John 2:6). 

“Knowing” someone on Facebook but never meeting them is common in today’s society. So is knowing about God without ever meeting him. If this describes you, I pray you’ll surrender your life to him today. 

As Romans 10:11 says, "Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” 

Now it’s your turn. Was there a time in your life when you trusted in something other than Christ for your salvation? How did God open your eyes? Leave a comment below and share your story.

If you'd like to hear more details about how I began a relationship with God, check out this video. If you're reading by email and can't see the video, click HERE.





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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Do You Really Know God?

Have you ever thought you knew someone, only to discover you didn’t? 

I received a Facebook message the other day from a friend I’ll call Diane. She shared a prayer request for a mutual friend, mentioned a writers conference she was planning to attend, and asked me for information about a book I’d reviewed on my blog. 

I responded with the details she needed, but the whole time I was composing the message, a question kept niggling in my brain. Where do I know her from? I mentally scrolled through what I knew about her—she had a couple of grown kids, a cute Yorkie, was mutual friends with Pat and Jean, and had recently retired. 

But have I ever met her? 

I realized that even though I could rattle off quite a few facts about her life, I didn’t really know her. We might have attended the same conference. We shared a few friends, but all I knew about her I’ve gleaned from the occasional Facebook post that appeared in my news feed. I knew Diane, but I’d never met her. 

The Apostle Paul didn’t have Facebook, but he faced a similarly awkward situation. All his life he thought he knew someone. Studied him. Knew a lot of details about his life. Read his book. Hung out with people who said they knew him. 

But he’d never met him. 

Listen to Paul’s own words: "I am a Jew, born in Tarsus of Cilicia, but brought up in this city. Under Gamaliel I was thoroughly trained in the law of our fathers and was just as zealous for God as any of you are today” (Act. 22:3). 

But then the surprising message came: “Saul! Saul! Why do you persecute me?” 

Faced with the truth, Paul had to admit it—he didn’t really know the God he’d purported to know: “Who are you, Lord?” he cried. 

Blinded, horrified to discover that he’d been persecuting genuine followers of God, and overwhelmed by the knowledge that he’d missed the Messiah, he came face to face with the Savior. 

"I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting.” 

Many people have a similar experience as Paul. They’ve grown up in religious homes. Read the Bible and perhaps even memorized it. They’ve attended church. Volunteered in the nursery. Given money. But they’ve never met Jesus. 

Paul realized what each of us must acknowledge—that Jesus is the Messiah, he died to take the punishment we deserve for sin, and he rose again to prove it was sufficient. Once Paul did, God’s instructions to him were clear: “Get up, be baptized and wash your sins away, calling on his name” (Act. 22:16). 

When I was 18 years old, I walked a church aisle, prayed a prayer, and shed a few tears. Like Paul, I’d learned about God, read his Word, and volunteered at church. I even put money in the offering plate. 

But I hadn’t met Jesus. 

Little by little, he revealed himself to me. Then, one day, he broke my heart over my sin. He helped me realize I’d been living my life my way and not doing a very good job of it. I confessed, repented, and trusted Jesus with my whole being—my past, my present, my future, and my eternity. 

Second Corinthians 5:17 says, “. . . if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new,” and it was true.

From that moment on, my life began to change. I knew Christ had come to live in my heart, because I had a changed attitude about sin. I could no wantonly longer ignore God’s principles. I found myself wanting to go to church because God was there, not to see and be seen. I felt myself drawn to read and study my Bible, and even though I was naturally introverted, I began to share what God was doing in my life with others. 

Paul experienced a similar life change. Then God gave him a life-changing assignment: “The God of our fathers has chosen you to know his will and to see the Righteous One and to hear words from his mouth. You will be his witness to all men of what you have seen and heard” (Acts 22:14). 

Salvation is available to all, John 3:16 tells us, but “not everyone who says to (him), ‘Lord, Lord!’ will enter the kingdom of heaven.” 

If you’re unsure of your relationship with Christ, ask yourself these three questions: 


1. What are you trusting in to get into heaven? A good life? Kind deeds? Charitable giving? Parents who know God? If your answer is anything but what Jesus did on the cross, you are trusting in a false gospel. Ephesians 2:8-9 tells us, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” 

2. Was there a moment in your life when you confessed your sin, repented (changed direction), and surrendered your life to God? Romans 10:9 promises, “That if you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” 

3. Has there been a change in your life since then? Are you becoming more like Christ? Christians aren’t sinless, but they should sin less. “Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did” (1 John 2:6). 

“Knowing” someone on Facebook but never meeting them is common in today’s society. So is knowing about God without ever meeting him. If this describes you, I pray you’ll surrender your life to him today. 

As Romans 10:11 says, "Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” 

Now it’s your turn. Was there a time in your life when you trusted in something other than Christ for your salvation? How did God open your eyes? Leave a comment below and share your story.

If you'd like to hear more details about how I began a relationship with God, check out this video. If you're reading by email and can't see the video, click HERE.





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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

The Lesson of the Stinky Trashcan - How to Have Victory over Sin

“Ewwww!” I said, wrinkling my nose. “What is that smell?” 

“I don’t know,” my husband said, following me into the kitchen. “It smells like something died.” 

It didn’t take us long to trace the source of the smell to the trash can, which contained two poopy diapers and parts from the chicken I’d cooked for lunch the day before. 

Holding his breath and hurriedly tying the ends of the garbage bag closed, my husband whisked it out the back door, carried it across the yard, and flung it into the receptacle. 

I began damage control, spraying disinfectant and lighting a scented candle. The stinky smell lingered a bit, but before long, our house smelled good again. 

David and I not always so efficient at taking care of issues like this. Some mornings we run late. We don’t have time to take the trash out the back door, across the yard, and into the can at the back of our property. “I’ll take care of it when I get home,” my husband promises, and off we go. 

Homecoming on those days isn’t very pleasant. The scent of smelly trash does not improve with time. Scented candles and disinfectant only temporarily mask the odor, and until we remove the source of the stench, it only gets worse. 

Some days my life is like my stinky kitchen. Instead of a poopy diaper or chicken parts, however, I allow a smelly thought, action, or habit to linger in my spiritual house. 

Unforgiveness, anger, selfishness, or comparison may take up residence. Laziness, grumbling, or stinginess crawls into a dark corner and makes a nest for itself. Justifying, excusing, or minimizing my sin does little to mask the odor. 

If I ignore it, any one of these sinful thoughts or behaviors can stink up my life. Until I remove the source of the problem, it will affect my relationships with others and with God. 

So what should we do when we suspect a foul-smelling sin has made itself at home in our life? 


1. Identify the sin. Pull it out into the light, and call it what it is. Ask God to help us see it like he sees it, and hate it like he hates it. 

2. Confess it to God and repent. Confessing is agreeing with God about our sin. Repentance is intentionally turning our backs on it. “If we confess our sins,” 1 John 1:9 promises, “he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 

3. Look for a trigger so it won’t blindside us. Do we engage in this thought pattern or behavior when we’re _______ (bored, lonely, anxious, alone, away from home, etc). Make a plan in advance to avoid the triggers or deal with them when they come. 

4. Do whatever it takes to remove it from our lives (not just cover it up). This might mean not spending time with those who encourage us to sin (intentionally or by association). Or asking a godly friend to hold us accountable. Or memorizing Bible verses that address the subject. Or joining a group of other Christians struggling in the same way. Or keeping a journal so we can record and track our progress. Whatever it takes, don’t bring the stinky trash back into your house. 

Romans 13:14 gives good advice: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts.” 

5. When we fail (and we will), repeat steps 1-4. Identify the sin. Confess and repent. Look for a trigger. Remove it from our lives. 

I wish we could remove most sins, especially entrenched, long-standing behavior patterns, from our lives overnight. Unfortunately, that's not usually how it works. Instead, we often take two steps forward, one step back. 

If we could plot our progress on a graph, however, we’d see that we are making forward progress. The forward steps begin to outnumber the backward steps, and we realize God is enabling us to have more victories than defeats. 

The Christian life is a lifetime of progressive sanctification—two fancy words that describe how God works to makes us more like Jesus. As I continue to haul the stinky parts of my life out to God’s trashcan, I am encouraged by the promise of Philippians 1:6. I hope you will be also. 

 “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”

Now it's your turn. What steps do you take to remove sin from your life? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts.


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Jesus' Foolproof Plumb Line for Making Decisions

Every day we make decisions—hundreds of them. 

How should I spend my time and money? 

With which organization should I volunteer? 

Whom shall I invite over for dinner? 

Should we remodel the kitchen or go on vacation? 

Some choices are easy to make and others are agonizing. An over-thinker by nature, I often struggle with decisions. In my Bible reading today I found a plumb line we can use to guide every choice. This simple sentence from the life of Jesus cuts to the heart of every decision we’ll make in our lives:

“Then Jesus went through the towns and villages, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem” (Luke 13:22). 

This sentence appears smack dab in the middle of Jesus’ ministry, months or perhaps a year or more before he died for the sins of mankind on a cross outside Jerusalem. Yet the shadow of the cross had already stretched across his agenda. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, it was always there on the horizon. 

Jesus’ ultimate goal, the driving force of his earthly life was give his life as a ransom for many (Mat. 20:28). He held every decision up to the plumb line of this ultimate purpose. When Satan tempted him with power and wealth, he said no, because saying yes would hinder his purpose. When the people of Jerusalem wanted to make him king, he said no, because saying yes would hinder his purpose. When he prayed in the Garden, “Father, if it be your will, let this cup pass from me,” he added, “not my will, but yours be done,” because deliverance from the cross would hinder his purpose. 

We, too, have a purpose. The over-arching goal of every Christian’s life should be, as the Westminster Catechism states, “to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.” Against this plumb line we can hold any decision we need to make and gain a clear sense of direction. 

Buy a bigger house or give more money to God’s work? 

Accept a leadership position at a secular non-profit or volunteer at my church? 

Invite only my closest friends over for dinner or step out of my comfort zone and include my unsaved neighbors? 

Watch that movie that pushes the envelope or change the channel? 

Join the gossip at work or say something positive, change the subject, or walk away? 

Vent my anger or take a deep breath, pray for patience, and respond kindly? 


When we “make (our) way to Jerusalem,” we live with a singular purpose—to advance the kingdom of God. Thankfully, unlike our Savior, God seldom requires us to lay down our physical life for his kingdom, but, like Christ, God will use our obedience to accomplish his work in the world. 

So the next time you face a decision, hold up your plumb line. Ask yourself, how can I best glorify God? And there you will find your answer. 



Now it’s your turn. How do you make decisions with an eye toward God’s purpose for your life? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Payday Doesn't Always Come on Friday

Ever wondered how payday works in the kingdom of God? I hear sermons all the time about “rewards in heaven” and “jewels in your crown” and sometimes wonder about my heavenly paycheck. 


I got a glimpse of how God rewards us recently when I mentally scrolled back through my earthly employment history. My first job paid $2.50 an hour. Employed by a grant-funded program to provide summer jobs for underprivileged youth, I worked in the Bristol Town Hall running errands. 

When I graduated from Dental Hygiene school in 1984, my first professional position netted me a whopping $8 an hour. That was enough money to buy my first car—a 1982 Toyota Starlet. 

Thirty years later, I still work as a dental hygienist, but I’m also a freelance writer. On a good day, freelance writers get paid about $2.50 an hour. Funny how life comes full circle. 

Some publications I write for pay me “on acceptance.” This means as soon as they accept my article, I receive a check—SWEET. Not much lag time between my effort and my reward. 

Other publications pay “upon publication.” This means I receive a check shortly after the article appears online or in print. Not bad if I’m writing for a current issue, but sometimes I submit a seasonal piece that won’t be published for three to six months. 

And finally, I write for one devotional that pays upon publication, and they solicit submissions TWO YEARS in advance. By the time I receive a paycheck from them, I've long forgotten the article they're paying me for.

God's economy is a lot like the freelance writing world. 

Some of the work I do for the Lord reaps instant rewards. I bring a meal to a sick church member and receive a smile and a grateful thank you. Other work, like discipling a new believer, takes a little longer to see the fruit. Two or three months down the road she might decide to get baptized or share her faith with someone for the first time. 

I do other labor for which I wonder if I’ll ever receive a reward—the “upon publication” work that often takes years, if not decades, to come to fruition. The money I donate to mission projects to evangelize people I’ve never met. Or the thousands of early morning prayers I pray for the salvation of my loved ones. This type of labor is “soul sweat,” the work I do with little or no visible results. 

When I struggle to persevere, Hebrews 6:10 comforts and encourages me: 

“God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.”

If you’re wondering today if working for the Lord is worth it, remember that we walk by faith, not by sight. And though God kindly encourages us with glimpses of how he is using our kingdom work, we won’t see the full results of our toil and tears until we get to heaven. 

But oh, when we see it. It will be worth it all. 

"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!’” (Mat. 25:23). 








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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

What Painted Pottery Taught Me about God's Care

“Good luck getting them home,” Emily said as I showed her the painted plates I found in Seville. “Everyone who comes to Spain falls in love with the pottery and tries to take it back in their suitcases. No matter how carefully they wrap it, it always breaks.” 

“What if I put bubble wrap around them?” I asked. 

“Tried it.” 

“Wrap them in clothing?” 

“Tried that, too.” 

“Surely there’s some way I can get these home?” I insisted. 

“The only way they’ll make it intact is if you carry them,” she said. 

So that’s what I did. 

I wrapped them in bubble wrap, tucked each one between several layers of clothing, and hauled them halfway across the world in my carry on suitcase. 

When a TSA agent tried to lift my little suitcase onto the screening belt, I did it myself. When a flight attendant offered to stow it under the plane, I declined. When another volunteered to place it into an overhead bin, I refused. On every plane, I gently tucked my carry on beneath my seat where I knew it would be safe. 

I wheeled my suitcase from Jerez to Madrid, from Madrid to Dallas, from Dallas to Charlotte, and from Charlotte to home. Six thousand, six hundred, and eighteen miles. 


But Emily was right. My pretty painted plates arrived safely. Now they hang in my kitchen as a beautiful reminder of my trip to Spain. 

“Why would you go to all that trouble?” my husband asked when I described what I’d done. “Were they very expensive?” 

“Not really,” I told him, “but I like them. They make me happy. They’re valuable to me, and I think they’re beautiful."

My plates remind me of Spain, but the trouble I went through to get them home reminds me of the way God cares for me. Isaiah 40:11 paints a beautiful word picture to describe how God relates to his children: 

“He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.” 

He carries them in his bosom. Carefully, like objects of great value. Gently, like precious, fragile heirlooms. Lovingly, like a most treasured keepsake. 

When we by faith place our trust in Jesus Christ as Savior, he commits to carry us all the way through our lives. But unlike the checked luggage that I sent on ahead of me under the plane, God doesn’t just promise to get us there. He promises to carry us every step of the way. Because he loves us. And values us. And thinks we’re beautiful.

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

If you’re feeling devalued today, I pray this simple metaphor will help you realize how much God treasures you. May you feel God’s tender arms beneath you, hear the beat of his loving heart, and rest in the comfort and safety of his embrace. You can rest in the confidence that he won’t let you go until you’re safely home.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Remembering the Plagues - What Suffering Teaches Us

It was appropriate, we thought, for this non-Jewish crowd to commemorate the crucifixion of our Lord by celebrating the Passover. Our leader was a Messianic, or completed Jew. As he read from the Haggadeh, the book that retells the story of the exodus, from which the Passover Seder is conducted, he lifted the second cup. 

“This is a cup of remembrance,” he said. “And one of gratitude.” 

“As we list the plagues God sent through the hand of Moses,” he said, “it is customary to dip one finger into the glass, then onto the plate, leaving one drop to symbolize each plague.”


Blood. 
Drip. 
Frogs. 
Drip. 
Vermin. 
Drip. 
Flies. 
Drip. 
Pestilence. 
Drip. 
Boils. 
Drip. 
Hail. 
Drip. 
Locusts. 
Drip. 
Darkness. 
Drip. 
Slaying of the Firstborn. 
Drip.

“It is a cup of remembrance, lest we forget the power of God . It is a cup of gratitude, lest we forget his mercy and deliverance,” our leader said. 

I’ve never thought to list the plagues God has allowed into my life. Frankly, I prefer to forget them. And list them for the purpose of expressing gratitude? This, too, is a strange concept. Strange, yet very biblical. King David the Psalmist embraced this practice. 

“It is good for me to be afflicted,” he wrote in Psalm 119:71, “that I might learn your decrees.  know, O LORD, that your laws are righteous, and in faithfulness you have afflicted me.” 

Remembrance and gratitude. The rear view perspective of a man who has suffered, survived, and now has the ability to see how God has used his affliction to make him better. 

With this in mind, I dipped my finger into my cup. And while the others recited the plagues of old, the list in my head sounded much different. 

Disease. 
Unsaved family members. 
Unemployment. 
Broken relationships. 
Wasted opportunities. 
Prodigal children. 
Doubt and discouragement. 
Broken hearts. 
Betrayal. 
Death. 

Unlike the plagues of the Exodus, these plagues weren’t limited to the unbelieving Egyptians. God, in his sovereignty, allowed them into my life. Not out of cruelty, but out of a bigger, greater, more God-glorifying plan than I can ever conceive. Most of the time I can’t see his purposes, but every now and then I catch a glimpse, for we walk by faith, not by sight. 

Thank you, Lord, for disease, for it has taught me that health is a gift to be treasured and protected. 

Thank you, God, for unsaved family members, for they remind me that nothing is too hard for you. 

Thank you, Father, for unemployment, for it demonstrates that you are my provider, not my job. 

Thank you, Lord, for broken relationships, for they remind me that you will never leave me nor forsake me. 

Thank you, God, for wasted opportunities, for they prove you can restore what the locust has eaten. 

Thank you, Father, for prodigals, for they have allowed me to experience your heartbreak when I sin against you. 

Thank you, Lord, for doubt and discouragement, for they cause me to seek comfort in your arms. 

Thank you, God, for broken hearts, for they show me that you are everything I need. 

Thank you, Father, for betrayal, for it allows me to enter into your earthly suffering. 

Thank you, Lord, for death, for without death, there is no resurrection. 

As you list your own plagues, and lift your cup of suffering, may you also raise a psalm of praise to God, in faith. May you trust that he who walks with you every step of the way will redeem every moment of your suffering for his glory. 

“May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant. Let your compassion come to me that I may live, for your law is my delight. (Psalm 119:76-77). 

“You are good, and what you do is good; teach me your decrees” (Psalm 119:68). 


Now it’s your turn. What “plague” are you trusting God with today? It would be my honor to pray with you for God to use it for good in your life. Leave a comment below and join the conversation.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher