Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 60

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). 








If you're reading by email, and can't see the video "Thank You," by Ray Boltz, click HERE to watch it on YouTube. And when you do, remember to pray for Ray.



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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

Easter Praise from the Mouths of Babes

"But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, "Hosanna to the Son of David," they were indignant. 

"Do you hear what these children are saying?" they asked him. 


"Yes," replied Jesus, "have you never read, "'From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise'?" (Mat. 21:15) 

This poignant, beautiful version of "Gethsemane," by 3-year old Claire Ryann will make your heart soar and your eyes weep. 

Rejoice, and happy Easter.






 If you're reading by email and can't see Claire Ryan's version of Gethsemane, click HERE.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Are You Suffering from Spiritual Affluenza?

There’s a new disease in town.

Like many illnesses that have mutated from their original nasty strains, this sickness puts a 21st century spin on a centuries-old malady. Some victims contract it and are cured. Others struggle with it all their lives. Only the hyper-vigilant manage to completely avoid its destructive effects.

The disease is called Affluenza. Merriam Webster loosely defines it as “the unhealthy and unwelcome psychological and social effects of affluence.” Although the online dictionary doesn’t address the spiritual component of affluenza, it’s very real. And regardless of our bank accounts, all Christians are at risk.

The first documented case of spiritual affluenza occurred in Israel, even before the Israelites had inherited the Promised Land. On the eve of their entrance into the land “flowing with milk and honey” (an Old Testament description of wealth and prosperity), God, through Moses, warned his people:

“Be careful that you do not forget the LORD your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day. Otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, then your heart will become proud and you will forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery” (Deut. 8:11-14). God knew the Israelites’ vulnerability to affluenza. Sadly, 21st century Christians are no different.

When money is tight or our marriage is struggling, we pray often and fervently. When we’re seeking insight into how to help our wayward children or addicted family member, we make church attendance a priority. When we’re lonely or sick, we welcome the support of God and his family. 

Affluence, however, can derail healthy Christians faster than a stomach virus in a daycare. When money is plentiful and our jobs are secure, we don’t often ask God for our daily bread. When family relationships are strong and our kids are making wise life decisions, we don’t spend as much time in prayer. When we’re surrounded by friends and enjoying good health, we spend more Sundays traveling and sleeping in than going to church. Like the Israelites, we often sideline God when he blesses us.

How lame is that? God fills our lives with good things, and like spoiled, ungrateful brats, we grab the gifts and gallop off with nary a backward glance.

God saw it coming and tried to warn his people: Don’t forget me. And certainly, “don’t say to yourself, ‘My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me’” (Deut. 8:16).

If you recognize some of the symptoms of spiritual affluenza, you’ve taken the first step toward healing—admitting you’re sick.

The second step is to avail yourself of the cure. God, the Great Physician, wrote a three-part prescription on the pages of Scripture. Thankfully, there’s no expiration date on this tonic, and the refills are unlimited.

First: Remember. “Remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth” (Deut. 8:17). Every day we should acknowledge that it is God who provides the opportunity, ability, and means to live the life he’s placed before us. He gives us the breath in our lungs, the strength in our bodies, and the creativity and perseverance to make a living for ourselves. Without God’s sustaining touch, every heartbeat could be our last.

Second: Praise. “When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the LORD your God for the good land he has given you” (Deu. 8:10). We should also glorify God whenever and wherever we can for his provision. As we enjoy the blessings of food, fellowship, friends, and family, we should be quick to acknowledge the bountiful hand that provided them.

Third: Pray. “ . . . give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, 'Who is the LORD?' Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God” (Pro. 30:8-9).


The psalmist recognized the danger that exists on both ends of the wealth spectrum. Jesus said it would be difficult for the rich (and we are all rich compared to much of the world) to admit their need for a Savior. He also acknowledged that while extreme poverty can prompt people to cry out to God as their only hope, it can also push them to commit desperate and godless crimes. The psalmist eloquently prays for a healthy balance between the two extremes. Asking God to provide our needs without giving us more than we can physically, emotionally, or spiritually handle is wise and biblical.

I don’t know if you’re struggling with spiritual affluenza. I know I sometimes do. I don’t want to be a greedy recipient of God’s goodness. Instead, I want to be a grateful one who never forgets that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights” (Jas. 1:17).

Now it’s your turn. Has affluence drawn you closer to or farther from the Lord? What do you do to combat it? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts.

Father, I don’t want to be an ungrateful recipient of your goodness. Help me recognize how everything good in my life comes from you. Let gratitude bubble up in my heart and express itself in praise and thanksgiving. Help me pursue a healthy balance between poverty and wealth and honor you in everything I do. In the strong name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Faith Isn't a Blind Leap in the Dark

The first dentist I worked for was Jewish by birth and agnostic by practice. Early in our professional relationship he told me he didn’t have a problem with my belief in God. 

“Everybody needs some kind of crutch,” he said. “If believing in God makes you feel better, I don’t have a problem with that.” 

I thought of Dr. B. this morning when I read about how Jesus called his disciples to follow him. 

Time after time in the Gospel accounts, Jesus gave ample proof that he was who he said he was—God in the flesh. “. . . even though you do not believe me, believe the miracles, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me, and I in the Father" (John 10:38).

Faith has never been just believing in “something to make you feel better. Nor is it a blind leap in the dark. God never calls anyone to believe in him without giving ample proof that he is worthy of our trust. 

The way Jesus called his disciples is a perfect example of this. In Luke 5, Jesus was visiting Capernaum. He taught in the synagogue. He freed a man possessed by an evil spirit. He healed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law. That evening when multitudes flocked to him with physical ailments, he cured them all. Demons came shrieking out of people, testifying that Jesus was “the Son of God” (4:38-41).  
And if that wasn’t proof enough, the next day when Simon, James, and John were out fishing, he commandeered their boat and used it as a platform from which to teach to the crowds on the shore. Afterward he told Simon, "'Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.' 

“Simon answered, ‘Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.’ 

“When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break” (Mat. 5:4-6). 

Simon couldn’t take it any longer. Overwhelmed with what he had seen Jesus do and realizing that only God in the flesh could do such things, he cried out, "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!"  

"Don't be afraid;” he reassured Simon, James, and John, “from now on you will catch men." 

“So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.” 

Before Jesus called his disciples to himself, he gave them ample proof of his power, and thus, his deity. 

We haven’t had the opportunity to walk and talk with Jesus Christ in the flesh, but we, too, have ample proof of his faith-worthiness. 

*We have the historical record of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, including biblical and extra-biblical sources. 

*We have evidence of God’s creative and sustaining hand in the world around us (Psa. 19:1). 

*We have the faith record of believers down through the ages (Hebrews 11). 

*We have the testimonies of contemporary believers attesting to the transforming power of the Gospel. 

*We have the evidence of God’s work in our own lives. 

Like Peter, my coming to faith experience happened in stages. First I heard about and read the biblical account of God’s work in ancient history. Then I listened to person after person tell how Christ had transformed their lives. Next I admitted my need for Someone greater and wiser than I to direct my life. Finally, I placed my faith in Jesus Christ and watched him begin to transform me from the person I was to the person I hoped to be. 

Little by little, God revealed himself to me and drew me to himself. Instead of taking a blind leap in the dark, I placed my trust in a God who has shown himself faithful to thousands of generations. 

Now it’s your turn. How has God revealed himself to you in your faith journey? Which evidences have you found most convincing? Leave a comment below and join the conversation.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Hope for the Brokenhearted

I was 20 years old, and my heart was broken. Someone I trusted had betrayed me, and the wound pierced deeply. 

Aching and feeling incredibly alone, I curled up on my bed and sobbed—rather loudly apparently, because shortly after I began, I heard a knock on my door.

 “Lori?” my dad called. “Are you OK? What’s wrong?”

It took a lot of courage for my dad to knock on the door of a hysterically sobbing woman, even if the woman was his daughter. Dad doesn’t do emotion. That’s Mom’s job. 

His love and concern for me, however, was stronger than his desire to avoid messy, slobbery exchanges, so he knocked.

And I answered.

“What’s wrong, Lor?” he asked again, and the tender concern on his face raised the gate on my emotional spillway.

Blubbery and nearly incoherent, I told him my sad tale. When I was finished, he handed me a Kleenex and waited while I blew my nose. Then he said all the right things. He expressed anger on my behalf and shared his wisest counsel. He even offered to call the person and give him a piece of his mind.

Even though nothing about my situation had changed, somehow, sitting on the side of the bed with my dad’s strong arm around me, I knew I was going to be OK.


Unfortunately, my heart’s been broken several times since then, and my father hasn’t always been there to dry my tears. 

But my heavenly Father has. Psalm 34:18 reminds me:

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

Although heartache can make us feel incredibly alone, God’s Word says otherwise. “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted . . .” 

IS is a statement of fact, not feeling. Just like we say, “The sun is in the sky, even though the clouds obscure it” or “Help is on the way, even though we can’t see it,” the truth that God is near when we are sad is a promise we can lay our weeping heads upon.

Even better, God isn’t just a sympathetic listener. He is a mighty warrior with the power to save. "He does not forsake his saints" (Psa. 37:28), and he brings “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness” (Isa. 61:3).

Some of you are brokenhearted today. A wayward child has crushed your hopes and dreams. A distant spouse has wrapped you in a shroud of icy neglect. Grief has sucked the air from your lungs and the joy from your heart.

Don’t try to bear your burden alone. Cry out to Jesus. He doesn’t run from messy, slobbery exchanges, nor does he head the other way when the emotion train roars by. Instead, he knocks on the door of our hearts, wraps his big strong arms around us, and holds us when we cry. Then he goes to work on our behalf, gluing every piece of our shattered hearts back together for our good and his glory.

“You’re going to be OK,” he tells us. “I promise.”

Now it's your turn. How have you seen the Lord's faithfulness during a time of brokenheartedness? Leave a comment below and share your story.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

The Amazing, Frightening Jesus

Sometimes Jesus amazes me. 

When I come to him frantic, blubbery, and afraid, I open his Word. I read promises perfectly suited to my need, and I am overwhelmed. The thought that God, the one who holds the stars in place and set the world in motion, penned words to sooth my troubled heart is humbling and awe inspiring. 

When I see evidence of his gentle hand shaping, guiding, and refining those I love, I bow my heart in gratitude. I watch how gently and subtly he woos them. Like he does with me, inch by inch he cinches the cords of loving kindness that bring them ever closer to him. 

Sometimes he steps back and lets them suffer the consequences of their spiritual independence. Yet when they humbly turn toward him, he wraps his tender around them and welcomes them home. 

I want my dear ones to love and follow Jesus more than life itself, but I am impotent to make it happen. Only God can. 

But God can. 


When the line of loved ones stretches like a strand of pearls around my heart, I understand Paul’s agonizing cry in Romans 9:3, “For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers . . .” 

But I cannot exchange my own salvation for theirs. Thankfully, there is saving grace enough for all. Refining grace, too, and so I labor in love and prayer. Lord, make me an instrument, not a stumbling block. Give me wisdom to know when to speak and when to be silent, when to act, and when to pray.

He answers me, works through me, and amazes me. 

Other times Jesus frightens me—more than the highest roller coaster or the interstate at night in the rain. I feel his power in a thunderstorm. I see his mighty hand in the wide ocean and tall mountains. At night, when all is still, and I can feel my heart thumping in my chest, I know only his mercy keeps it beating. 

Mark 10:32 tells me I am not alone in my amazed fear of Jesus. His early disciples felt it too. 

“Now they were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was going before them; and they were amazed. And as they followed they were afraid.” 

Every day with Jesus gives me new reasons to be amazed. His ability to meet my needs. His still small voice that speaks to my heart. His desire for an intimate and personal relationship with me and those I love—wretched souls that we are. 

And every day with Jesus gives me new reasons to be afraid. His power to build up and to tear down. His holiness that reduces my works to filthy rags. His perfect justice that sees every sinful thought, word, and action. Were it not for Christ, I would be utterly condemned. Hopeless to stand before him. 

"Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath” (Eph. 2:3). 

But God. 

“But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. 

“And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:4-7) 

Amazing. 

Frightening. 

Glorious. 

Now it’s your turn. What aspects of God’s character amaze you? What parts frighten you? How has Christ brought a healthy balance? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment in the box below and share your insight.

If you're reading by email and can't see the video, click HERE to worship with Kari Jobe and "Let Your Glory Fall."




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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Relationship Advice from a Donkey -- What Balaam's Burro Can Teach Us All

Relationship advice shows up in the strangest places. I’ve come to expect it from a pastor or a friend. I’ve found good tips online, and in Bible studies, but I never expected to learn something helpful from an animal.

Buried in the Old Testament book of Numbers, however, is a valuable lesson that comes from the lips of a donkey. You may remember the story. The children of Israel are headed toward the Promised Land. They’ve already conquered the Amorites, and now they’ve trained their sights on the land of Moab. Moab’s King, Balak, is getting a wee bit nervous. He decides to call in the resident prophet, Balaam, to curse Israel, hoping to tip the battle odds in his favor.

God tells Balaam not to go with the princes of Moab, but he goes anyway. This makes God angry (disobedience usually does), so he sends the Angel of the Lord, complete with drawn sword, to stop him.

Balaam, oblivious to the danger ahead of him, rides blithely toward his own destruction. His donkey apparently has more spiritual discernment than her master, because she sees the Angel of the Lord standing in the way with his drawn sword in his hand and turns aside into a field. Balaam, angry and oblivious to what’s going on in the spiritual realm, strikes the donkey. This happens three times, with Balaam becoming increasingly angry and abusive.

Finally God opens the donkey’s mouth, and she speaks. "’What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?’

“Balaam answered the donkey, ‘You have made a fool of me! If I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now.’”

Listen to the donkey’s wise reply (and the point of this whole devotion): “’Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?’"

Sometimes I’m a lot like Balaam. I get angry because someone does something to hinder my progress or upset my plans. Maybe they’re uncooperative or slow. They may even seem to be working against me.

When I focus too much on my own agenda, I fail to consider that there might be a good reason for a person’s uncharacteristic behavior. Instead of giving him or her the benefit of the doubt or asking a few diagnostic questions, I say things I regret later and act like a spoiled child.

Sometimes, in my enthusiasm for a project or idea, I forget that others might have an opinion,  preference, or helpful knowledge. Instead of seeking others’ input, I plow on with my agenda without stopping to consider them.

Balaam’s donkey’s wise response provides a model we can use in a situation like this: 

1. If someone is acting uncharacteristically, give them the benefit of the doubt. There may be a good reason for their actions. It might not be an angel with a big sword, but they could have wisdom from the Lord.

2. Ask gentle questions. “You seem a little hesitant/ defensive/ ________. Is there something you’re concerned about?”

3. Ask, “Do you have any information I may be unaware of that might be helpful?”

4. If their behavior is unusual, and there’s no discernible reason for it, you could have just caught them at a bad time. Or in a bad mood. Or PMSing. This is a good time to breathe grace.

When the Lord finally revealed himself to Balaam, he took him to task for the cruel way he treated his donkey. Balaam responded appropriately.

“I have sinned,” he said.

We, too, can respond humbly when we act impulsively or are quick to judge. As soon as we realize something’s amiss, or someone’s acting out of character, we should take the necessary steps to address it. Oftentimes a sincere apology is all that’s needed to reopen the lines of communication and get the relationship back on track. 

Now it’s your turn. Has there ever been a time when you misjudged someone and later found out the whole story? What happened? Leave a comment in the box below and join the conversation.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

I'll Take Narnia's Aslan Over The Shack's Papa Any Day - What William P. Young Is Missing (A Guest Post)

It's my pleasure to welcome my friend and fellow author, Lael Arrington, as guest blogger on Hungry for God today.

This week The Shack is (still) #1 on the New York Times Best-Seller list and, after three weeks, still in the top five at the movie box office. With unforgettable images Young draws a picture of God’s compassion for a bruised reed of a man who has lost his little girl in a crime of unspeakable violence and murder. 

The God of all comfort prepares Mack’s favorite food in the kitchen. Skips rocks across the lake with him. Wears old flannel shirts. Young’s story takes us inside Mack’s grief and shows how God’s tender, creative soul-care heals and restores.

Throughout almost thirty years of rheumatoid arthritis, the wanderings of a prodigal, and the inevitable conflicts and rejections of the pastorate, Jesus has lavished me with his tenderness and mercy. Yet in times of deepest sorrow I find the portrait of God that CS Lewis has drawn in Aslan, the lion-King in his fictional world of Narnia, even more comforting than Papa in The Shack. 


We see Aslan’s playful, gentle, tenderness, romping with the children who ride on his back and nestle in his fur. We see him weep and groan over Narnia’s agonies. 

But we are continually reminded…”Aslan is not a tame lion.” He is wildly unpredictable. His fury destroys the White Witch’s minions. His claws rip Eustace’s dragon-skin clean off. His fearful growls in the dark spur Bree to gallop faster and carry Shasta to safety. His humiliating, horrific sacrifice for Edward’s selfish indulgence-turned-nightmare takes our breath away. 

Lewis invites us to think about the wildness of God in a way that enlarges our understanding of his compassion. When I or someone I care about is unjustly wronged or even oppressed, or when the Church is maligned or marginalized, I want a strong, fearful God to fight for us. Fight for his Church.  

I’m not as eager for God to fight for my heart and my redemption when it involves hurting me. Yet I am learning (again) that ultimately the most compassionate thing God can do for me is to expose the contours of my weakness, selfishness or indifference so that I might change and grow. 

In Mere Christianity Lewis writes, “God is the only comfort. He is also the supreme terror: the thing we most need and the thing we most need to hide from. He is our only possible ally and we have made ourselves His enemies. Some people talk as if meeting the gaze of absolute goodness would be fun. They need to think again.” 

One day we will stand before him, overwhelmed by that goodness. Instead of condemning, he welcomes us. Invites us to share his throne and his reign—an act of compassion and nobility that staggers our dim imaginations. 

Compared to Aslan, Papa’s therapeutic breakfast-making sovereign looks pretty one-dimensional. All mercy and compassion all the time. By contrast, the wrath of Aslan against oppressors and injustice makes his mercy shine more brightly—like the diamond displayed on the jewelers black velvet. 

His bloody sacrifice for sinners like me infuses his compassion with a transcendence hard to wrap words or images around. A soaring magnificence sadly missing from Papa’s folksy humor and hugs. 

In his poem “The Misery of Job and the Mercy of God,” John Piper describes the compassion of God to his little girl: “”Beware Jemimah, God is kind in ways that will not fit your mind.” 

And that is the greatest deficit of the Papa of The Shack—his/her kindness fits too easily into our minds conditioned by today’s New Agey, marshmallowy, overwrought compassion. Tender feeling-with but without holiness or righteousness or accountability or sacrifice or hard-earned wisdom from a man like Job who lost far more than Mack. 

God comes to Job like Papa comes to Mack in his pain and suffering and gives the most important gift—the gift of his I-AM-enough presence. The fulfillment of our deepest longing when we are in the deepest pit. When we need an Answerer far more than an answer. 

But interestingly, he comes without comfort food or Neil Diamond music. He comes to Job and says, “Brace yourself like a man and I will question you.” Words I can imagine coming from the mouth of Aslan, but not Papa. 

The prophet Isaiah tells us that Jesus is so tender that “a bruised reed he will not break.” Still, when we are hurting, we need God to be fully God. 

This review points out some of the merits and the Biblical problems with The Shack. For a more theological evaluation, this from Al Mohler. 

How do you respond to the portrait of God drawn in The Shack? Please respond kindly in the comments below…




Lael Arrington is the author of four books, most recently Faithand Culture (Zondervan). A former talk radio host in Houston and Dallas, she now lives in Columbia where she speaks and blogs on faith and culture at LaelArrington.com.





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

Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher