Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 65

What If You Knew You Were Going to Die?

What if you knew you were going to die? 

And not only knew you were going to die, but knew the day and the hour? 

And what if you also knew how you were going to die? Suppose someone who could look into the future had told you the day, the hour, and the method. 

And the method is ugly. 

It involves torture—an entire night of it. Brutality—beyond anything that has ever been done before. Public humiliation, too, in front of your family, your friends, and your countrymen. And then the accusations—blasphemy, treason, lying under oath, insurrection—and those are just the biggies. And then, the final betrayal—every single person who claimed to love you is going to abandon you, leaving you to face death alone. 

Suppose you knew all this, and it’s now the night before your death. 

How would you spend your last evening? 

I think I’d be sitting in my comfy chair with my loved ones gathered around me. They’d be serving me all my favorite foods and playing my favorite songs in the background. One by one they’d wipe tears from their eyes, pause thoughtfully, and tell me how much my life has impacted theirs. Maybe I’d read the stack of Thank You notes I’d been collecting all my life, you know, the ones from the missionaries I’d supported, the students I’d taught, and the friends I’d done nice things for. 

But let me tell you one thing I wouldn’t be doing—washing some man’s nasty feet. And I certainly wouldn’t be washing twelve men’s nasty feet. 

Whaaaaat? 

“It was just before the Passover Feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love . . . . he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him” (John 13:1,4,5). 

On the eve of Jesus’ torturous death, what was he doing? Humbly serving others. 


The task of foot washing typically belonged to the lowest servant in the household. Because this was a four-mile-an-hour, first-century world, foot washing was a nasty task. It wasn’t unusual for pedestrians to walk through animal dung, urine, mud, and garbage as they traveled the streets. 

Yet while the disciples argued about who was going to be the greatest in the kingdom of God, Jesus, God in the flesh, knelt and began to wash their feet. 

Only one disciple balked, ashamed and convicted, I’m sure, at the humble position his teacher had taken before him. "No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet” (v. 8). 

And Jesus replied, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand." 

As I read this familiar narrative, I have to ask, “Why? Why would he serve them this way, at this time? How could he humble himself when he was God Almighty? His disciples should have been falling all over themselves to serve him, but they weren’t. He would have been completely justified in demanding it of them, but he didn’t. 

We find the key to Jesus’ extraordinary humility in a simple statement in John 13:3: 

“Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God.” 

Jesus could serve humbly because he knew who he was. He didn’t have to point out his worth before others. He didn’t need others’ affirmation and service to feel good about himself. He didn’t even have to defend or justify himself in the face of slights and disrespect. He was confident and settled in who he was—the Son of God, sent to Earth and called to spend his life serving others. 

“Now before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour was come that he should depart out of this world unto the Father, having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end.” 

Sometimes I struggle to serve others. I don’t want to be humble. I don’t want to be last. I don’t want to deny my wishes to honor someone else’s. I don’t want to turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, and forgive my enemies. I fear humility diminishes my value and servanthood will invite people to treat me like a servant. 

But if I know who I am—if I know I am a child of God, sent to Earth and called to spend my life serving others, then I can know that the Father is pleased. 

And that makes it all possible. 

What about you? Do you fear that serving others will somehow diminish your worth? What does this vignette from Jesus’ life tell you? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please leave a comment below or CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom of the post, and leave a comment.


Post-Matthew Hurricane Update: 
Thank you to the kind friends who have emailed and messaged me to see how my family and I fared during last weekend's hurricane. The storm swooshed through quite dramatically on Friday night and Saturday. In the center of the state, where I live, we had 35-40 mph winds and almost 4 inches of rain. The community had quite a few trees down and some local flooding (one dam broke), but no loss of life or major property. The coast is another story, and we covet your prayers for those affected. Most are still unable to return until the authorities confirm that it's safe. Currently 800,000 people are without power. I'm thankful it's sunny and warm today. 



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Best Financial Lessons, Part II -- How $1.80 Changed My Life

I didn’t grow up in an evangelical church, so when I began attending one in high school, I had a bit of a culture shock. 

Instead of the minister speaking in a solemn and subdued voice, he raised his voice, gestured dramatically, and paced from one side of the altar to the other. And in this church, Amen wasn’t just gentle punctuation at the end of a prayer, it was enthusiastic feedback from the congregation telling the pastor they agreed with his message. 

The congregation’s approach to giving was different, too, and came with intriguing terminology. I added the words stewardship, love offering, faith promise giving, and tithing to my list of vocabulary words. I must admit, I considered this new approach with more than a bit of skepticism. Then our pastor preached on Malachi 3:10: 

“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.” 

“Why don’t you try it?” a friend suggested. “Tithe for a month, and see what happens. After all, God says, ‘Test me, and see if I won’t pour you out a blessing. ’ What do you have to lose?” 

At the time, I was a poor high school student with no income. I hated babysitting, so I had no hope of a salary increase anytime in the near future. My net gain was my six-dollar weekly allowance. I made a quick calculation. 

“What is God going to do with 60 cents a week?” I asked. 

“It’s not how much you give,” he said. “It’s that you give. God can multiply anything.” 

 “OK. I’ll try it.” My main goal, I admit, was to prove my friend wrong. 

The first week, I dropped my 60 cents into the offering plate and waited. Nothing happened. 

Second week, same thing. 

Third week, and I was almost home free. 

Then the phone call. 

“Lori, this is the Airport High School guidance counselor. We’ve just received a phone call from a local dentist looking for someone to train as an assistant to work after school. Would you be interested?” 

I accepted the job, began my 30+ year career in dentistry, and have been giving to the Lord ever since. 

Not because giving to God is a 10-1 transaction. 

Not because I think I can manipulate God into giving me stuff I want by donating to the church. 

Not even because I think God needs my money. 

I give regularly to the ministry because I need to give. 

I need to give to remind myself that everything I have comes from him. The breath in my lungs, the strength in my body, the brain in my skull, and whatever abilities or creativity I possess are all gifts freely given to me by God.

I need to give to remind myself to seek first the kingdom of God, and all the other parts of my life, including my finances, will fall into their proper order (Mat. 6:33). 

I need to give to remind myself it's not all about me, and that there are people who are less fortunate than I who can use my help. 

I need to give to experience personally the miracle of the loaves and fishes. 

I need to give because where my treasure is, there will my heart be also. If I am only marginally invested in our church and its missionaries, food pantry, and benevolence fund, then I will also be marginally involved in its work. If I have invested much, I will pray for the ministries, work with, promote, and love them. 

I need to give because I am naturally selfish. If left to my own inclinations, I'll usually invest my best time, energy, and resources in bettering myself, not promoting God's kingdom. 

I need to give because God's work is the only work that lasts for eternity. When I give to God, I'm investing in someone else's eternal destiny. I can't think of a better return for my money. 

I need to give because I want more faith. Without faith it is impossible to please God. When I give instead of hoard, I exercise faith. Like a muscle, faith grows when exercised, so if I exercise faith by giving, my faith muscle grows bigger and stronger. 

I need to give to acknowledge that my job is not my provider; God is. 

I need to give to remind myself that I serve God, not the other way around. 

And finally, I need to give because I owe a debt I can never repay. 

Centuries ago God issued a challenge to his people: “Bring your tithes into the storehouse . . . Test me in this.” Thirty years ago I accepted the challenge. First out of skepticism, then out of awe, and ultimately, out of love. 

In the intervening years, God has met every need our family has had. He’s provided during times of sickness, injury, and unemployment. He’s helped a blue-collar worker and a stay-at-home mom send two kids to college and stretch our money so far George Washington looks like he’s had a face lift. 

I was presumptuous and faithless when I set out so many years ago to prove that God didn’t care if I gave. In his mercy, God blessed me, matured me, and taught me one of the most valuable financial lessons of my life: 

“Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work” (2 Cor. 9:6-8). 

If you’re not regularly investing in God’s kingdom, I encourage you to begin. Give generously, regularly, and prayerfully, and watch what God will do. I’m confident that he’ll use your giving to enhance your life and the lives of those around you. If you regularly give to God’s work, I’d love to hear your story. Leave a comment in the box below or CLICK HERE to visit Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom, and leave a comment.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

My Best Financial Lessons, Part I

When my husband and I married almost 32 years ago, we were baaaaaaby Christians. He was three spiritual years old, and I was two. Boy did we have a lot to learn. 

Shortly after I became a Christian, I discovered Christian radio. I was a dental hygiene student and had to rise well before dawn to get to school by 7:30. Every morning my clock radio would awaken me just in time to hear the late Larry Burkett’s How to Manage Your Money broadcast (now Crown Financial Ministries. 


Every day I learned something new about sound biblical principles for managing my money. I was the stereotypical poor college student, but I knew if I survived Head and Neck Anatomy class, I’d graduate, get a job, and start earning a salary. 

Now, more than three decades later, I can trace our family’s financial stability back to those principles I learned in those 5-minute radio segments. In the next two blog posts, I’d like to share a few of the best financial lessons I learned. 

Best Financial Lesson #1: Use the envelope method. 

The envelope method is an extremely simple *oh I hate to use the B word* bbbbbbudget. You simply take the amount of your paycheck and divide it into spending or saving categories, then give each category its own envelope. 

Our early envelopes had labels like Rent and Electricity, Groceries, Gas, and (my favorite) Out to Eat. We included envelopes for Savings and Giving (10% each), and a Long Term Expenses envelope. This took care of all the expenses that came due once or twice a year, like car insurance and car taxes. We added up the bill amounts, then divided the total amount by 12 to get the monthly amount we needed to put into the envelope. 

Lastly, we had a Miscellaneous Appliance Fund to save for the inevitable appliance repair or replacement. Once we had listed our expense categories, with envelopes to match, we wrote a dollar amount on each. Then we’d place that amount of money in the envelope every month. If we got paid weekly, we’d put a fourth of that amount in every pay period. Bi-weekly, we’d put in half. 

For example, if our rent was $700 a month, and we got paid twice a month, I needed to put in $350 into the envelope each pay period. If I got paid weekly, I’d put in $175 from each paycheck. 

Some expenses, like rent and student loan repayments, were fixed amounts we had no say in. As we allocated our paycheck funds, we paid those first. Once we subtract the fixed amounts (and we considered giving and saving non-negotiables), what was left covered the other categories. If there were more envelopes than there was money, we’d cut some of the negotiables. 

While we’d have liked to spend $100 a week on groceries and out to eat, we sometimes had to cut the grocery amount in half and skip eating out entirely. Other months all we could put into that discretionary fund was $10. A small amount like that encouraged us to look for coupons, specials, and other ways to stretch our funds. 

When we first established the Miscellaneous Appliance Fund, $15 a month was all we could afford to put in it. That didn’t sound like much, and it wasn’t, but every month we’d tuck it away anyway. God was gracious to us, and nothing broke down or needed replacing for FOUR years. What had seemed like a minuscule amount when we began multiplied over time into enough money to replace our broken washing machine when the need arose without going into debt. 

The envelope method is a powerful visual of how budgeting works. It shows us in practice what we know in theory—that the funds of our paychecks are going somewhere. Our job is to decide where they go and see to it that they get there. 

An important detail to keep in mind is that it’s a BIG NO NO to rob from one envelope to pad another unless we’re redirecting discretionary income. It is not OK to take money from my Rent envelope and move it to my Out to Eat envelope. 

Embezzling like this can easily happen if we have all our money in a checking account without a clear understanding of where we have it committed. In contrast, seeing our money tucked safely into its respective envelopes helps us realize that most of it is allocated and we’d better think long and hard before we spend it. We’ll be much less likely to raid our Student Loan envelope when the craving for an expensive lunch strikes if we have to physically open that envelope and take the money out. 

On the flip side, if we’d rather have friends over for homemade chili and brownies than go out to eat, we can certainly move money from our Out to Eat envelope to our Grocery envelope if needed. Discretionary categories are just that. 

I know the envelope method sounds very simple compared to the spreadsheets, software, and classes companies have developed to teach us how to account for every penny that comes into our homes. If those methods work for you, go for it. But if you’re new to budgeting or have struggled with financial management in the past, I encourage you to give this method a try. It’s a little inconvenient to shuffle cash back and forth, but it’s an excellent way to see what’s coming in, what’s going out, and where it’s going. 

Philippians 1:6 tells us, “He (God) who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.” This verse reminds me that God promises to teach me everything I need to know to serve him well. I can look back over the course of my lifetime and see dozens of examples of how God has brought people, information, and training into my life just when I needed it most. Money management is one of these areas, and the envelope method has helped us control our finances instead of our finances controlling us. 

In my next post, I’ll share two more of the best financial lessons I’ve learned. If you haven’t subscribed to Hungry for God yet, this would be a great time to do so so you won’t miss a single post in the series. In the meantime, why not join the conversation? What’s your best financial tip for saving and spending well? Leave a comment below and join the conversation. If you’re reading by email, click HERE to go to Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom, and leave a comment.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

What the World Needs More Of -- A 30-Day Adventure

When you think about the word kindness, what comes to mind?

During our recent trip to Rhode Island (are you sick of hearing about it yet?), our family went to the town beach. Although the day had been warm, the ocean water was characteristically cold.

We kicked off our shoes and walked in the shallows. Only Lauren, the three-year-old, got significantly wet. As the sun began to set, the wind picked up, sending a chilly breeze across the water.

“I’m cold,” Lauren whimpered, clasping her arms around herself and shivering uncontrollably. Her eyes drooped and so did her smile.

Uncle Michael, the newest member of our family, hasn’t been an uncle long, but he knew what to do. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped up Lauren like a burrito, scooped her out of the water, and carried her to the car while we gathered our belongings. Lauren tucked her head into his shoulder and wrapped her little arms around his neck, safe and warm in his embrace.

When I think about kindness, this story is a great example. In many ways, it models God’s kindness toward us, his children. Listen to Isaiah’s tender description of his heart toward us:

“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young” (Isa. 40:11). 

And Paul’s description of God’s kindness in Acts 14:17:

“He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy." 

Kindness is best characterized as strength tempered with compassion. My son-in-law is a strong man, a naval officer who is trained to fight for and defend our country. His strength, paired with compassion and combined with the love of Jesus, produces a kindness that puts the needs of others, including sandy, shivering little girls, ahead of his own.

As children of God, we have the Holy Spirit living inside us. This means we have access to the gifts he brings with him, namely love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Gal. 5:22-223). When we yield ourselves to him and allow Jesus’ love to flow through us, the Spirit gives us the power to live out these gifts every day.

I’m convinced that our world needs a whole lot more kindness. But rather than pointing my finger at “those people” who need to practice this virtue, I need to begin with myself.

Scripture gives me several ways to practice kindness:

1. By being quick to forgive. “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Eph. 4:32).

2. By giving up my right to “payback.” “Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else,” (1 Thes. 5:15).

3. By resisting quarreling. “And the Lord's servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone,” (2 Tim. 2:24).

These are the biggies, but kindness has a thousand faces. It’s as simple as doing a chore for your spouse, helping a coworker without being asked, or hugging someone who’s having a bad day. Listening patiently, speaking softly, and going the extra mile are kind gestures that can change the course of someone’s day.

We love to be the recipients of kindness, but we often forget to give it away. Like the other fruit of the Spirit, I want to be characterized by kindness. Until it comes (super)naturally, my goal is this: 

Every day for 30 days, I purpose to:

1. Think one kind thought (because every action finds its genesis in our minds).

2. Speak one kind word (because words have power).

3. Do one kind deed (because I want to be a doer of the Word, not just a hearer only).

If kindness doesn’t come naturally to you either, or if you want to grow in this fruit of the Spirit, I invite you to join me in this 30-Day Kindness Adventure. 

“Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity,” (Col. 3:12-14).

Our world needs more kindness. May it begin with me.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Who Is Your "Least of These"?

Sometimes it’s easy to love the “least of these.” Other times, not so much. It’s easy to love little children until they whine, tantrum, or disobey. And the poor until they act ungrateful or entitled. Many of us are willing to care for the sick—until someone throws up on us. And we welcome the lonely until they get clingy and demanding.

Nevertheless, God calls us to serve those who appear to bring nothing to the table. Matthew 25:40 tells us, “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine has done it unto me.”

In light of this command, we should ask ourselves, “Who is “the least of these” God is calling me to love and serve?

Maybe it’s a family member, co-worker, neighbor, or church member. Or it could be a young mom, college student, or struggling teen. Or a lonely friend, grieving widow, or elderly acquaintance.

“Least of these” can be one-time opportunities to do a kind deed, meet a need, or speak an encouraging word, or they can be longer-term commitments to get involved in someone’s life. Regardless, we should always be ministering to at least one of the least of these.

The litmus test is that our commitment is a sacrificial relationship that appears to be lopsided—we’re giving and they’re receiving.

I’d like to share five reasons to love and serve “the least of these.”

1. God blesses us when we share generously.

“Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you” (Luke 6:38). Whether it’s time, talent, or treasure, God always manages to bless us more than we bless others.

2. God will get the glory for our kind deeds.

“In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Mat. 5:16).

3. When we were young believers, others patiently helped us grow.

Now we can pay it forward. “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves” Rom. 15:1).

4. Jesus promises eternal reward for those who selflessly serve others.

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,” (Mat. 25:34-35).

5. It makes God happy.

“Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God” (Heb. 13:16). Who doesn’t want to make God happy?

I’ve been a believer for more than 30 years. Sometimes I’ve been self-focused, and other times I’ve been other-focused. It hasn’t taken me long to discover that self-focus is self-limiting. Ministering to others, however, especially when it’s challenging and sacrificial, grows our faith, expands our hearts, and draws others closer to God.

Some of the needy people I’ve befriended purely out of obedience to God’s promptings have become my dearest friends. While the relationships may have started out lopsided, as they grew in spiritual maturity, they have loved me loyally and unselfishly.

Some of the sick people I’ve ministered to have taught me priceless lessons about contentment, courage, and faith. More than once I’ve visited someone intending to encourage them and realized instead that they had encouraged me.

Some of the spiritually immature people I’ve discipled have challenged me think through what I believe and be able to defend it. They’ve inspired me with their fledgling faith and reminded me of my responsibility to set a good example.

I always learn something about myself and the Lord when I minister to the least of these. Probably the greatest lesson I’ve learned is that, in God’s eyes, I, too, am the least of these. He loves me when I’m unlovely, comforts me when I am sick, and visits me when I am in a prison of my own making. In every way, he loves me the way he calls me to love others.

So I ask you again, who is “the least of these” whom God is calling you to love and serve? If you don’t have someone, pray and ask God to show you who around you most needs your love and care.


Last weekend I had the privilege of ministering with the amazing women of Good Shepherd UMC Parish in Brookville, PA. Here are a few scenes from our time together.

A beautiful morning ushered in a beautiful day.
A shy friend greeted us in the nearby apple orchard.


The first hat in "A Hat for All Seasons, Serving God in Every Stage of Life" is a safari hat. Can you guess why?
"Stepping Out, How Our Footwear Impacts our Faith"God calls men AND women to wear this shoe as we walk the faith walk.
"Clean Out That Closet" challenged us to leave bitterness and unforgiveness at the foot of the cross. The amazing planning committee that made everything flow smoothly.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

How Do I Love Thee?*

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 



I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, 



when feeling out of sight 



For the ends of being and ideal grace.




I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, 




by sun and candle-light. 



I love thee freely, as men strive for right. 



I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. 



I love thee with the passion put to use 



In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.



I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. 



I love thee with the breath,



Smiles, tears, of all my life; 


and, if God choose, 
I shall but love thee better after death.


O Father, I can never earn your love, and I certainly don't deserve it, yet you freely bestow it upon me. I disappoint you, and sometimes I break your heart, but you never stop loving me.  You surround me with your beauty, fill my life with good things, and use me in your service. Your love brings me comfort. Your promises bring me peace. Your presence brings me joy.

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you.

*How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43) Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806 - 1861. In the public domain.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Going Home, Part V, How I Hope to Be Remembered

I never met my grandfather, but I’ve always loved him. 

When I was young, I’d look at pictures of him and imagine what it would be like to have a grandfather. I’d listen to Mom’s stories of Sunday afternoons at Crescent Park riding the carousel and special daddy/daughter dates. I dreamed of a tenderhearted man who would listen to whatever was on my heart and always feed me ice cream. 

Because my grandfather died before I was born, all I have of him are a few photographs and my dreams. Last month, when I visited my hometown, I stopped by the place I always associate with my grandfather—an old stone wall on Silver Creek. 

Sixty-five years ago, as a birthday surprise, my grandfather walked my mother down to this spot not far from their home. He wanted to do something to commemorate her special day. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a handful of tiny white stones. He uncovered the mysterious bucket he’d carried with them and took out a trowel. 

While she looked on curiously, he scooped soft cement from the bucket and ladled it in between the stones on top of the wall. He smoothed the edges, blending them into the surrounding concrete. Then, one by one, he gently placed the little white stones just so. 

My mom, fascinated by his handiwork, watched her initials form under his careful hand. After he pressed the last stone into its soft setting, he stood back to admire his work. 

“There you go, Lillie,” he said, waving his hand with a proud flourish. “Happy birthday.” He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tightly. “No matter how many birthdays you have, I hope you’ll always remember this one here with me.” 

I loved to hear my mother tell this story. Oftentimes, walking home from the corner store, I’d leave the sidewalk and trek across the grass to that magical spot on the wall. Because my first and middle initials are the same as my mother’s, I’d sometimes pretend that they were my initials, and that my grandfather had placed them there for me. I longed for a similarly permanent tribute to my existence. 



This longing to be immortalized is common to mankind. We yearn for proof that the world is different because we’ve been in it.

The apostle Paul felt this desire as he wrote to the Corinthian church. He acknowledged he’d never have a statue dedicated in his honor or a highway named after him. Instead, he reminded his beloved converts that they were his memorial. 

“You are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts” (2 Cor. 3:3). 

Paul’s words remind me that the greatest tribute I can leave behind is a life well-lived for the cause of Christ. The best treasure I can acquire isn’t gold and silver or accolades and accomplishments. My highest goal can and should be the privilege of impacting the world for Jesus. 

Lord, lift my eyes from temporary man made stones to the tablets of human hearts. May the people I touch be changed for your glory and their good.

What about you? Do you wonder sometimes if your life is making a difference? How do you hope to be remembered after you die? I invite you to leave a comment below and share your thoughts.

If you missed the other posts in the Going Home series, here are the links:

"There's Something Magical about Going Home"

"Going Home, Part II, Family"

"Going Home, Part III, Food"

"Going Home, Part IV, Faith" 




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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Going Home, Part IV, Faith

Faith caught me when I didn’t expect it, and I’ve been a happy captive ever since.

As I look back at the path of my faith journey, I can clearly see the imprint of my first footsteps in a little town on Narragansett Bay. 

When I was six, I memorized my first Bible verse—John 3:16. I’d been attending Vacation Bible School with a friend at a little Primitive Methodist church in North Providence, Rhode Island. One day the teacher promised a prize for everyone who could say the verse the following day. I went home, learned the unfamiliar words, and recited them perfectly the next morning. 

I don’t remember the prize, but years later, when I came to faith in Christ, I discovered that I already knew one of the most life-changing truths of Scripture: 

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” 

When I was eight, I was old enough to walk to church with my Portuguese godmother, Madrinha. Madrinha had a Texas-size heart in a Rhode Island-size body. The ultimate hostess, she always had cookies and soda in a jelly glass for me whenever I’d visit. But not on Sunday mornings. 

“If you want to take communion,” she’d say, reminding me of the Catholic guidelines, “you can’t eat or drink for an hour before.” 

I loved my Madrinha, and the chance to go anywhere with her was a treat, even without cookies. 

Although I didn’t come to faith until years later, attending church with Madrinha was a valuable part of my spiritual upbringing. Later, when many of my teenage friends questioned God’s existence, I never doubted. Madrinha’s example of reverence and respect for the things of God taught me never to treat matters of faith lightly. 


My mom and Catherine (L-R) Aren't they cute?On my recent trip back home, I had the pleasure of attending church with Catherine, a family friend. I never tire of hearing her story. 

As a confused and struggling young woman, she sought answers in the Bible. The more she read, the more she realized how her sin separated her from God. Scripture taught her that God loved her with an everlasting love—so much that he sent his Son, Jesus, to die on a cross and pay the punishment for her sin. 

She learned that instead of trusting in her good works to earn a place in heaven, she needed to trust in what Christ had already done for her. One day, all alone in her home, she surrendered her life to God. 

Excited to share her newfound faith, Catherine opened her home to others who were interested in studying the Bible. From those studies sprang a vibrant, evangelical ministry that continues to this day. As I sang and worshiped alongside her, I marveled at how God uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things. 


Everywhere I looked in Rhode Island I saw glimpses of God. I saw his creative genius in the pink blush of the ocean at sunrise. I saw his timeliness and order in the ebb and flow of the tides. I saw his bountiful provision in the family members who extended gracious hospitality. I saw his boundless love as I experienced his gifts of laughter, love, and relationships. 

James 1:17 tells us, “Every good and every perfect gift comes from above, coming down from the father of lights.” 

My trip to Rhode Island reminded me that God is always at work, wherever we are. From the Sandhills of South Carolina to the seashores of Rhode Island, he eagerly reveals himself to those who seek him. From the tiniest grandchild bowing her head in thanks over breakfast to the family matriarch seeking wisdom for her future, God’s ears are attentive to our prayers. And to every soul who struggles under life’s load, he calls, 

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Mat. 11:28-30). 


What about you? As you look back at the faith steps you took on the road to a relationship with Jesus, which milestones stand out? Who did God use to guide and influence you? What experience are you most thankful for? I’d love to hear your stories. Leave a comment below and bless us all. 

And if you're not sure you have a relationship with God, click here to learn more.

Finally, if you'd like to hear more of my story, click here for a video testimonial. 

If you missed the other posts in this series, here are the links:
"There's Something Magical about Going Home"

"Going Home, Part II, Family"

"Going Home, Part III, Food"








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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Going Home, Part III, Food

Food is very important to my family. 

Because we had three newcomers (my son-in-law and two grands) to initiate into the food fold during our recent trip to Rhode Island, we planned our itinerary around unique local delicacies.

Portuguese sweet bread (masa sovada) from Cornerstone Bakery awaited us at the homestead. Buttered to the edges and toasted under the broiler, it is manna with a Portuguese twist. 

“How can this taste so good?” my son-in-law wondered aloud. Eggs, butter, and a pound of sugar might have something to do with it, Son. 

The thought of malasadas, fluffy circles of fried dough coated with sugar, lured me from my bed early Sunday morning. Now that the first generation of Portuguese immigrant women has passed on, few are willing to go through the process of mixing the dough, letting it rise twice, then forming it into flat rounds ready to fry. Corner bakeries have taken their place, but only on Sunday mornings. 
Photo credit: Cassandra at www.frillyfabulous.wordpress.com
“Once they’re gone, they’re gone,” the baker said when I called to inquire, “so you’d better get here early.” 

The memory of watching my grandmother drop perfectly formed ovals into a steaming pan of oil, then pass them to me for sugaring propelled me out of the house early that Sunday morning. A block from the bakery, the smell of golden deliciousness drew me in like the siren’s song. I paused, inhaled deeply, and held my breath, eyes closed in delight. Gloriously content to stand and savor, I stood there until an angry growl from my empty stomach propelled me the rest of the way to the bakery. 

“The only advertisement you need is that smell,” I said to the dark-eyed girl behind the counter. She smiled, then blinked twice when I placed my order. 

“Twelve?” she repeated, certain she’d heard wrong. 

“Twelve,” I said. “It’s been a long time.” 

Del’s frozen lemonade, Maple Walnut ice cream, and the Newport Creamery’s legendary Awful Awful (a milkshake so named because it’s “Awful Big and Awful Good,”) guided the week's itinerary. 

My mom and her cousin shared a New England Clam Boil, fishing out little neck clams and dunking them into melted butter. My daughter bravely swallowed a bite of the rubbery shellfish. We passed a basket of Quito’s clam cakes around the table, and the coffee lovers among us licked over-filled cones of Rhode Island Lighthouse Coffee ice cream. Long walks around the bay helped counteract our dietary indescretions. 

For me, the greatest joy came not from eating the delicacies I’ve loved since childhood, but from sharing them. The ritual of food is risky. Would I have loved my new son-in-law even if he turned up his nose at my favorite ice cream? Absolutely. Did I love him more as we shared a grin and a nod over cones piled high with sweet deliciousness? You bet. 


One of my favorite snapshot is this one of my granddaughter. Smiling broadly, she holds a malasada in one hand and a piece of sweet bread in the other. That’s my girl. You may not look Portuguese, little one, but you are. 

God could have created us without taste buds. Without taste, eating would be utilitarian—a necessary obligation to keep us alive. Instead, he created us with the ability to taste, and savor, and delight. 

Then, to make it even sweeter, he placed us in families. Together we can share not only the necessary parts of cooking and eating, but also the relational parts. Around the table, against the backdrop of good food, we laugh, and talk, and share. We tempt each other with delicacies, squabble over who gets the last bite of something good, and compare likes and dislikes. Food is the magic elixir that soothes grumpy toddlers and hard working men. 


Sometimes, opportunities to gather around the table with distant family and close kin make me a little homesick for heaven. One day, we’ll gather at a feast that will put our simple meals to shame (Rev. 19). Family members from generations gone by will take their places around the table, we’ll join hands, and our Father will pronounce the blessing. 

“For the loved ones gathered here and for the food we are about to receive, we are grateful.” 

I’m looking forward to that celebration. I suspect you are, too. In the meantime, may we enjoy many happy meals around our family tables. 

Would you like to chime in? What’s your family’s favorite food? Do you have a special traditional meal that you’ve shared from one generation to another? Leave a comment below and share your story. If you’re reading by email, click here to visit Hungry for God online, scroll to the bottom of the post, and leave a comment there. 

If you missed the earlier blog posts in the Going Home series, click HERE to read “There’s Something Magical about Going Home,” or click HERE for “Going Home, Part II – Family.”

And if you'd like a recipe for Malasadas, Portuguese doughnuts, click here to visit Cassandra at FrillyFabulous.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Going Home Part II, Family

When my first granddaughter, Lauren, was born, I realized God had fulfilled Psalm 128:6 in my life: 

“Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children . . .” 

In my last blog post, “There's Something Magical About Going Home,” I promised to share a few stories and pictures from my recent trip to Bristol, Rhode Island. Today’s post, “Going Home Part II—Family” tells the best part of the story. Perhaps I should have saved it for last, but I couldn’t wait to share the smiles. 

When it puts its best face forward, family gives us a glimpse of what heaven is going to be like. Leisurely meals around the table, familiar stories, and lots of hugs and laughter. Unfortunately, these extended family events are becoming more and more rare, especially now that our daughters are married and have begun families of their own. When the planets align, the earth tilts perfectly on its axis, and everyone’s busy schedules overlap, we occasionally manage to gather in one place. Most of the time, however, we visit in smaller groups. 

My recent trip to Rhode Island was uniquely special, because four generations of women from my immediate family met in my hometown—my mom, myself, my daughters, and my granddaughters. 

Four generations, ranging in age from 72 to 1. 

In addition to the miracle of gathering with my immediate family, my mom and her two cousins, daughters of three siblings who sailed from the Azores with their mother in 1919, also had opportunities to visit. Now that their mothers have passed away, (the youngest died at 94-1/2 and the oldest at 98), these women have taken their places as the matriarchs of our family. 

I, one generation distant, watched them with an objectivity they didn’t have. With every smile, laugh, and gesture, I saw glimpses of the women who birthed them. One cousin has her mother’s high cheekbones and soft voice. The other has her mom’s keen mind and love for learning. Watching two cousins’ hands cradle steaming cups of coffee, I noticed that they were identical. One pair of hands had traveled the world, while the other had stayed close to home, but they were similarly beautiful. 

The irony that, two generations later, we again have a sailor in the family escaped no one. One day my son-in-law invited us to have lunch with him at the Officers’ Club in Newport. Driving through the gates of the base transported my mother back to a younger time when life was simple and romance blossomed. 

“Your father took me here once,” she said. Her eyes crinkled at the memory of her handsome sailor. “Some nights he’d have to walk back to base after he took me home—or hitchhike, because we’d talked for so long he missed the last bus. What in the world did we talk about?” 


Showing my hometown to my children, son-in-law, and grandchildren gave me the opportunity to put flesh on the bones of my life. When they saw the spiral staircase in the Rogers Free Library, they understood why I spent more time there than anywhere else. When they stood at the stone wall that encircles Bristol Harbor, they knew why it was my favorite place to write and think. When they rested in the shade of the tree-lined streets, smelled the salty sea air, and watched the sailboats skim across the bay, they understood why my eyes light up whenever anyone mentions Rhode Island. 


Visiting my hometown helps my family understand me. Visiting my hometown also helps me understand me. Remembering the sunny landscape covered in three feet of snow reminds me why I hate cold and love the South. Driving by the 864-foot home where our family of five lived explains why I’m so excited about having a bedroom big enough to fit a bed, a dresser, and a chair. Walking past the little apartment where my Granny lived reinforces my determination to be a wonderful grandmother just like she was. 

We don’t get to choose our family, and not every relationship within the circle is a happy one. Rose-colored glasses aside, families can be our greatest source of joy or our greatest source of pain. It’s my prayer today that whatever side of the pendulum you’re on, you’ll ask God to show you how to be the best family member you can be, for his glory. 

“A good man leaves an inheritance to his children's children” (Pro. 13:22).



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher