Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 72
February 17, 2016
"You have the prettiest eyelashes."
“You have the prettiest eyelashes.” My patient’s compliment catches me by surprise. I’ve seated Hannah, a cute young 30-something, in my dental chair for her semi-annual checkup. I ask about her new baby. She asks about my daughter’s recent marriage. Then we transition over to dental-related subjects like brushing and flossing. I’m almost finished with her teeth when she compliments me.
“Thank you,” I respond in surprise. I finish her appointment and send her off with a reminder to floss every day. Her appointment only lasts 45 minutes, but her compliment stays with me all day.
I don’t consider myself a vain person, nor do I need constant affirmation to feel good about myself. I’m not suffering from a mid-life crisis, and I don’t linger long in the mirror before I leave my house in the morning.
But my patient’s unexpected compliment has a surprising effect—it warms my heart. Like finding a ten-dollar bill in the pocket of my jeans or pulling into a parking space with money still in the meter, I feel as though I’ve been given a gift. All morning long, her words make me feel special. And happy.
Such is the effect of kind words. Proverbs 25:11 describes it this way: “A word at the right time is like apples of gold in a network of silver.”
As I think more about my patient’s verbal gift, I realize three things: 1. Compliments don’t cost anything.
2. They don’t require much effort.
3. They have powerful and far-reaching effects.
Hannah’s kind words make me want to help my coworkers, go the extra mile for my patients, and feel better about my appearance. And it only took five words.
In response, I want to bless someone like Sarah has blessed me.
I thank the receptionist for helping a patient with a difficult insurance question. “You did a great job sorting that out.”
I notice my next patient’s sparkling earrings. “Those are the prettiest color. They match your eyes perfectly.”
I encourage a middle-aged woman caring for her mother with Alzheimer’s. “You’re a good daughter. She’s very blessed to have you.”
The ripple effect from my patient’s compliment reaches far beyond its intended target and makes four people smile instead of one.
Today you may not be able to donate a million dollars to charity or find a cure for cancer, but you do have the ability to make someone smile. And when that person smiles, she’s more likely to share a smile with someone else, who can share it with someone else, who can share it with someone else. Before long, we’re all smiling. All it takes is a little bit of effort and a few carefully selected words.
Are you in?
If you are, purpose to speak at least one sincere compliment to someone you encounter today. Note how they respond and how it makes you feel. Then leave a comment below to share your experience.
Thanks for taking the challenge. Hungry for God readers are some of the sweetest folks in the blogosphere. I’m privileged to share the faith walk with you.
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
February 14, 2016
Red Fur and Freckles
“Never again. I never want another dog. It hurts too much to lose them.” I nodded in silent agreement at my husband’s sad words. Seventeen years of doggy love laid to rest near the clothesline where she liked to sit left a gaping hole in our hearts. We knew we couldn’t protect ourselves from losing a family member or a friend, but losing a dog, that’s different. Dog ownership is voluntary. We wouldn’t make that mistake again.
We thought time would cure us from doggy love, but it didn’t. We never stopped looking for that black nose poking through the door to greet us. Or the stub of a tail that wagged so hard it moved her whole rear end. Or the brown marble eyes that followed our every movement, eager to go wherever we went. I heard her tags jingle for months after she was gone, at odd times when the house was quiet. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of her on someone else’s leash.
Two and a half years later, we were set up. I’ve always heard that viruses come through email attachments. I should have known better than to open it, but there it was—a picture of a curly-eared redhead with a white stripe and freckles on his nose. I closed the attachment, but it was too late. I was infected.
“If you keep looking at the picture,” my husband said after I opened it for the tenth time, “you’re gonna fall in love with him.”
“It’s too late,” I wailed. “I already have.”
We adopted Winston on my birthday, 2007, from a rescue lady named Grace. A fitting name, I’ve always thought. Grace. Grace. God’s grace. Grace that is greater than all my fears.
Like an eager suitor, Winston courted me.
Like a tenderhearted schoolgirl, I fell in love.
His playful antics, so different from our dignified first-born girl Cocker, made me laugh aloud. Some days, for no reason at all, he’d race around the yard like Samson’s foxes with their tails on fire. Every afternoon he’d pull my husband’s socks off his feet, then shake them to death like a hunter with its prey. Other days he’d roll on the grass in joyful doggy abandon, tongue lolling in a happy doggy grin.
His zest for life never ceased. Every morning, sometimes before dawn, he’d climb from his nest by our bed and flap his ears so hard his tags rattled. It was his way of announcing to the world that morning had arrived. Racing from the room in search of his favorite toy, he’d pounce upon it with laser-like accuracy. Like the opening bell on the New York Stock Exchange, the resulting squeak would mark the beginning of our day.
His wholehearted love for his toys was fun to watch. He’d carry baby alligator, hot dog, and blue ball from room to room. We were never sure what was the criteria for being chosen as Toy of the Day, but he’d place the most-favored toy on the foot of our bed or on the couch, or he’d set it beside him at the door as he awaited our arrival at the end of the day. He bestowed the TOTD distinction on many of his toys, but red ball remained his favorite.
I’m sure I could have loved an ugly dog, but Winston’s beauty captivated me. His soft, silky head and curly ears begged to be stroked. He’d often lie belly up on our bed, inviting us to scratch the snowy white fur of his chest and tummy. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more. There’s something mighty powerful about petting a soft, warm puppy.
And then there was his tail.
Because he was abandoned at the animal shelter as a sickly puppy, he missed the traditional tail docking many Cockers endure. Long and red, with a strand of white at the tip, Winston’s tail was, as Jo March said of her hair in the literary classic, Little Women, his “one true beauty.” It never stopped waving, like a white flag of surrender after a long war.
Winston’s adaptability fit my lifestyle perfectly. If I wanted to go for a walk, Winston was ready to go. Most times we’d walk our traditional route through the neighborhood, but our favorite path was around the lake at Sesqui. Delighted to be on the long leash, Winston would race ahead, sniffing at every tree. The only thing nicer than walking through that pine-scented forest in the springtime was sharing the walk with Winston.
Winston understood that a writer’s life is often sedentary. If I spent the day working at my computer, he was OK with that. He’d gather his toys around him and stretch out on the floor, occasionally opening an eye to check my progress. He was patient and good.
It was a year of transition, that spring of 2007 when Winston inserted himself into my life. My eldest was graduating from homeschool high school and starting college. My youngest was growing more independent every day. Both had outgrown the frequent hugs and kisses I had so generously bestowed upon them in their younger years.
Winston, however, was an eager recipient of my affection. He never wiped his face in disgust after I planted a kiss on him. He willingly accepted every hug I enthusiastically shared. And often, during my early-morning quiet times, he’d cuddle close beside me on the bed and lay his soft head in the crook of my arm. Every now and then a sigh of contentment came from deep within his doggy soul.
On Winston’s last day, he did something he’d only seen in movies—he chased the neighborhood cat up a telephone pole. We’d walked together two days before, but that day was a workday for me. I left him sleeping in the sunny spot at the foot of my bed and headed out.
I knew something was wrong when I came home from lunch. No eager bark greeted me at the door. No happily wagging tail. By dinnertime Winston was too weak to stand. A panicked trip to the emergency vet yielded a diagnosis I never expected to hear—multiple tumors, fluid around his heart, and no hope for recovery. By ten o’clock I had planted one last kiss on the soft fur of his nose and scratched his ears until he fell asleep.
“You’re a good boy,” I said. “Your mommy loves you. You’ve been a good friend.”
Equally heartbroken, my husband repeated the words he’d said thirteen years earlier—“Never again. I never want another dog. It hurts too much to lose them.”
But I know he’ll change his mind. I will too. When the edges of our grief soften and the sweetest parts of doggy ownership begin to scratch at the doors of our hearts, we’ll open them up again.
Against our better judgment.
In the meantime, we’re choosing to be thankful for the good and perfect gift God gave us in Winston.
After all, only God would have thought to wrap love, loyalty, and laughter in red fur and freckles.
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17).
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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
We thought time would cure us from doggy love, but it didn’t. We never stopped looking for that black nose poking through the door to greet us. Or the stub of a tail that wagged so hard it moved her whole rear end. Or the brown marble eyes that followed our every movement, eager to go wherever we went. I heard her tags jingle for months after she was gone, at odd times when the house was quiet. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of her on someone else’s leash.
Two and a half years later, we were set up. I’ve always heard that viruses come through email attachments. I should have known better than to open it, but there it was—a picture of a curly-eared redhead with a white stripe and freckles on his nose. I closed the attachment, but it was too late. I was infected. “If you keep looking at the picture,” my husband said after I opened it for the tenth time, “you’re gonna fall in love with him.”
“It’s too late,” I wailed. “I already have.”
We adopted Winston on my birthday, 2007, from a rescue lady named Grace. A fitting name, I’ve always thought. Grace. Grace. God’s grace. Grace that is greater than all my fears.
Like an eager suitor, Winston courted me.
Like a tenderhearted schoolgirl, I fell in love.
His playful antics, so different from our dignified first-born girl Cocker, made me laugh aloud. Some days, for no reason at all, he’d race around the yard like Samson’s foxes with their tails on fire. Every afternoon he’d pull my husband’s socks off his feet, then shake them to death like a hunter with its prey. Other days he’d roll on the grass in joyful doggy abandon, tongue lolling in a happy doggy grin.
His zest for life never ceased. Every morning, sometimes before dawn, he’d climb from his nest by our bed and flap his ears so hard his tags rattled. It was his way of announcing to the world that morning had arrived. Racing from the room in search of his favorite toy, he’d pounce upon it with laser-like accuracy. Like the opening bell on the New York Stock Exchange, the resulting squeak would mark the beginning of our day.
His wholehearted love for his toys was fun to watch. He’d carry baby alligator, hot dog, and blue ball from room to room. We were never sure what was the criteria for being chosen as Toy of the Day, but he’d place the most-favored toy on the foot of our bed or on the couch, or he’d set it beside him at the door as he awaited our arrival at the end of the day. He bestowed the TOTD distinction on many of his toys, but red ball remained his favorite. I’m sure I could have loved an ugly dog, but Winston’s beauty captivated me. His soft, silky head and curly ears begged to be stroked. He’d often lie belly up on our bed, inviting us to scratch the snowy white fur of his chest and tummy. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more. There’s something mighty powerful about petting a soft, warm puppy.
And then there was his tail.
Because he was abandoned at the animal shelter as a sickly puppy, he missed the traditional tail docking many Cockers endure. Long and red, with a strand of white at the tip, Winston’s tail was, as Jo March said of her hair in the literary classic, Little Women, his “one true beauty.” It never stopped waving, like a white flag of surrender after a long war.
Winston’s adaptability fit my lifestyle perfectly. If I wanted to go for a walk, Winston was ready to go. Most times we’d walk our traditional route through the neighborhood, but our favorite path was around the lake at Sesqui. Delighted to be on the long leash, Winston would race ahead, sniffing at every tree. The only thing nicer than walking through that pine-scented forest in the springtime was sharing the walk with Winston. Winston understood that a writer’s life is often sedentary. If I spent the day working at my computer, he was OK with that. He’d gather his toys around him and stretch out on the floor, occasionally opening an eye to check my progress. He was patient and good.
It was a year of transition, that spring of 2007 when Winston inserted himself into my life. My eldest was graduating from homeschool high school and starting college. My youngest was growing more independent every day. Both had outgrown the frequent hugs and kisses I had so generously bestowed upon them in their younger years.
Winston, however, was an eager recipient of my affection. He never wiped his face in disgust after I planted a kiss on him. He willingly accepted every hug I enthusiastically shared. And often, during my early-morning quiet times, he’d cuddle close beside me on the bed and lay his soft head in the crook of my arm. Every now and then a sigh of contentment came from deep within his doggy soul.
On Winston’s last day, he did something he’d only seen in movies—he chased the neighborhood cat up a telephone pole. We’d walked together two days before, but that day was a workday for me. I left him sleeping in the sunny spot at the foot of my bed and headed out.
I knew something was wrong when I came home from lunch. No eager bark greeted me at the door. No happily wagging tail. By dinnertime Winston was too weak to stand. A panicked trip to the emergency vet yielded a diagnosis I never expected to hear—multiple tumors, fluid around his heart, and no hope for recovery. By ten o’clock I had planted one last kiss on the soft fur of his nose and scratched his ears until he fell asleep.
“You’re a good boy,” I said. “Your mommy loves you. You’ve been a good friend.”
Equally heartbroken, my husband repeated the words he’d said thirteen years earlier—“Never again. I never want another dog. It hurts too much to lose them.”
But I know he’ll change his mind. I will too. When the edges of our grief soften and the sweetest parts of doggy ownership begin to scratch at the doors of our hearts, we’ll open them up again.
Against our better judgment.
In the meantime, we’re choosing to be thankful for the good and perfect gift God gave us in Winston. After all, only God would have thought to wrap love, loyalty, and laughter in red fur and freckles.
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17).
If you enjoyed this post, why not subscribe? I'll send you twice-weekly 5-minute devotions to help nourish your soul.
Because women need to connect with God in the craziness of life.
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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
February 11, 2016
Don't Judge My Liquor Boxes
If I back up to our new house and start unloading a trunk full of liquor boxes, what will my neighbors think? Going to the liquor store to get the boxes is bad enough. I feel like a teenager sneaking into an R-rated movie. I park off to the side, away from store traffic. Scanning the parking lot before I get out of the car, I check for church members or homeschool support group friends. I put my sunglasses on, even though the sky is overcast.
I’ve never been in a liquor store before. My family tree is dotted with alcoholics, and many branches have alcohol-related tragedies clinging to their tips. My husband’s family tree grows in the same orchard. His parents’ broken marriage, his own early addiction, and the broken lives and wasted years of so many of his loved ones make him avoid alcohol like the plague that it is. I don’t ever remember a discussion about it. We just knew—no alcohol would be consumed in our home.
Our background, plus the fact that my husband is a pastor and committed to avoiding anything that could be misunderstood, helps you understand my angst.
Now back to the liquor store. And my packing boxes. “Liquor store boxes are the best,” my daughter says. “They’re strong, not too large, and have dividers to help cushion breakables.”
My desire for my glassware to survive our move outweighs my liquor store boycott, so out of the car I go. Mercifully, there’s a foyer of sorts before I set foot in the store itself. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a mountain of strong, sturdy boxes. Jackpot. Far more than my little Yaris can hold.
Craning my neck around the door without actually setting foot inside, I make eye contact with the cashier seated nearby. “May I have some of these boxes?”
“Sure, take all you want,” he says with a wave.
Success—without technically going into the liquor store.
My concern over what my new neighbors will think when they see moving in next door what appears to be enough liquor to blitz the entire county makes me think.
I wonder how often I judge someone before I get all the facts? How often do I make an assumption without digging deeper? How often do I interpret motives based only on superficial evidence?
That last piece of pie that disappeared from the fridge? I know who ate it.
That dissenting vote at church? No doubt about who cast it.
That party I wasn’t invited to? I know why.
That conversation that stopped when I walked into the room? I know who they were talking about.
That look my husband gave me? I know exactly what he’s thinking.
So often we draw conclusions without giving others the benefit of the doubt. We automatically assume the worst, and act based on those faulty impressions. We create conflict that isn’t there, and set in motion a course of events that doesn’t need to happen.
What if, instead, we ask ourselves one or more of these questions?
Do I have all the information?
Could there be more to this than meets the eye?
Have I taken into account the person’s character and reputation?
Am I reacting based on my own insecurity?
Oftentimes, if we reign in our initial thoughts and approach a situation logically instead of emotionally or impulsively, we discover information that helps us respond correctly. And sometimes we realize we don’t need to respond at all.
I’m heading back to the liquor store for more boxes. And I’m looking forward to meeting my new neighbors on moving day. In the meantime, my goal is to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry (James 1:19), and to think the best, not the worst, of those I meet (1 Cor. 13:7).
How about you? Have you ever impulsively jumped to a conclusion only to find you were wrong? How did you handle it? I’d love for you to share your thoughts in the comments below.
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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
February 8, 2016
Learning to Become Spiritually DEpendent
Asking for what I needed used to be the easiest thing in the world.
From the time I was a tiny baby, I’d cry and my parents would meet my every need. Empty tummy? Here’s a bottle of warm milk. Wet diaper? How about a dry one? Frightened? Let me comfort you. Lonely? I will hold you tightly.
As I matured, I began to more and more for myself. I learned to eat with a spoon, use the bathroom, and share my thoughts. Eventually I became independent of my parents. This type of independence is healthy and good. It’s a sign of maturity.
In the spiritual realm, however, independence is a sign of immaturity. Sometimes we are so spiritually independent we forget that God is the source of everything we need. It’s an age-old problem, this spiritual amnesia. Paul challenged the Corinthians not to embrace pull-yourself-up-by-the-boot-strap-theology:
“For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive?” (1 Cor. 4:7)
Paul knew that acknowledging God as the source of everything insured that his readers would also know where to go in times of need. If we understand that God gives us the strength to work each day, we’ll be more likely to ask him for help when we feel weak. If we understand that God is our provider, we’re less likely to put our faith and trust in our job, the stock market, or our retirement fund. If we understand that it is God who calls people into a relationship with himself, we’re more likely to pray than to fret.
This perspective challenges our natural spirit of independence, which causes us to seek help from everyone but God. When our hearts are independent, God is often the last person we go to. We try to manipulate our checkbook or our credit. We seek government assistance or the help of friends. We gripe and complain.
It’s nothing new. The Israelites did it in the desert:
“In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, ‘If only we had died by the LORD's hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death’” (Ex. 16:2).
They whined. They complained. They blamed their leaders. They dredged up “the good old days,” which weren’t very good, otherwise they wouldn’t have asked God to deliver them.
When they were hungry and thirsty, they did everything but ask God for help.
Why?
Why didn’t they call upon the God “who loves to give good gifts to his children” (James 5:17)?
Why didn’t they petition the one who promises to “supply all your need according to his riches and glory” (Phil. 4:19)?
Why didn’t they seek out the one who swears he will “never leave or forsake you” (Heb. 13:5)?
Why indeed? And why don’t I?
I grumble. I complain. I ask others. But how often do I go to God first instead of waiting until all my other options are exhausted?
The early days of our marriage we were financially challenging. We lived in a 12 x 60 foot mobile home that was so old the windows didn’t even close completely. Good thing we lived in South Carolina. Bad thing that the first week after our wedding the temps hit a historical low of -4°. The curtains moved with every icy blast.
We learned to pray and ask God for enough money to pay the bills, go to the doctor, and save for a down payment on a house. Later, when we made the decision that I’d only work part time so I could stay home with our girls, we prayed every month that the money wouldn’t run out before the month did.
When we felt God leading us to homeschool, we knew we’d be living on one income in a two-income world, and we prayed a lot. We prayed for money for music lessons, high school classes, and a dependable car. We prayed for God to provide braces, a computer, and college tuition.
God always supplied—not only what we needed, but much of what we wanted, too. Amazing grace. He was a faithful Father, and we were his grateful children.
As our daughters have become young adults and started families of their own, we pray even more. We pray for them to grow strong in their faith, find success in their jobs, and rear their children in the nurture of the Lord. We pray for their safety, their health, and their marriages.
But sometimes we encounter a circumstance that is big, ugly, and scary, and we fall back into our default setting. We cry, complain, or try to fix it with our limited resources. We forget that we serve a compassionate God who eagerly desires to answer the prayers of his children.
When will we learn?
Perhaps you’re facing a stronghold in your life—an area where you just don’t see progress. Maybe you have a need. Or a want—something you’ve never told anyone about. It doesn’t have to be big, super-spiritual, or life threatening to matter to God. He delights in providing even the simple desires of our hearts.
Before you whine, cry, complain, or dismiss it as unimportant, why not talk to God about it? He sees. He cares. And he’s waiting for you to ask him.
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!” (Eph. 3:20).
Postscript: My husband and I have known for quite some time that it was time to leave our neighborhood and move to a safer one. As we sought the Lord for his favor in both selling our home and buying another, I felt comfortable sharing the desires of my heart with him.
Lord, I wrote in my journal, these features are important to me, but I trust you to know even better what we need. I’d love space to practice hospitality, plenty of windows and light, a pretty kitchen, and a safe neighborhood where I can walk unafraid. And if it’s closer to my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters, how sweet would that be?
My amazing realtor with our contract.Last week, after studying hundreds of houses and visiting many of them, we signed a contract on a home. As I listed this event in my thankful journal, I flipped back a few pages to the place where I’d shared my hopes with the Lord. Comparing the home we’d put a contract on with the one I had prayed for, I realized the Lord had led us to a home that has every feature I asked for. And more.
I wrote EPHESIANS 3:20 across the entry and bowed my head in humble gratitude. What are the secret desires of your heart? Perhaps you haven’t had the faith to talk to the Lord about them.
Maybe now’s the time to set aside your independence and embrace spiritual dependence.
If you enjoyed this post, why not subscribe? I'll send you twice-weekly 5-minute devotions to help nourish your soul.
Because women need to connect with God in the craziness of life.
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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
From the time I was a tiny baby, I’d cry and my parents would meet my every need. Empty tummy? Here’s a bottle of warm milk. Wet diaper? How about a dry one? Frightened? Let me comfort you. Lonely? I will hold you tightly.
As I matured, I began to more and more for myself. I learned to eat with a spoon, use the bathroom, and share my thoughts. Eventually I became independent of my parents. This type of independence is healthy and good. It’s a sign of maturity.
In the spiritual realm, however, independence is a sign of immaturity. Sometimes we are so spiritually independent we forget that God is the source of everything we need. It’s an age-old problem, this spiritual amnesia. Paul challenged the Corinthians not to embrace pull-yourself-up-by-the-boot-strap-theology:
“For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive?” (1 Cor. 4:7)
Paul knew that acknowledging God as the source of everything insured that his readers would also know where to go in times of need. If we understand that God gives us the strength to work each day, we’ll be more likely to ask him for help when we feel weak. If we understand that God is our provider, we’re less likely to put our faith and trust in our job, the stock market, or our retirement fund. If we understand that it is God who calls people into a relationship with himself, we’re more likely to pray than to fret.
This perspective challenges our natural spirit of independence, which causes us to seek help from everyone but God. When our hearts are independent, God is often the last person we go to. We try to manipulate our checkbook or our credit. We seek government assistance or the help of friends. We gripe and complain.
It’s nothing new. The Israelites did it in the desert:
“In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, ‘If only we had died by the LORD's hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death’” (Ex. 16:2).
They whined. They complained. They blamed their leaders. They dredged up “the good old days,” which weren’t very good, otherwise they wouldn’t have asked God to deliver them.
When they were hungry and thirsty, they did everything but ask God for help.
Why?
Why didn’t they call upon the God “who loves to give good gifts to his children” (James 5:17)?
Why didn’t they petition the one who promises to “supply all your need according to his riches and glory” (Phil. 4:19)?
Why didn’t they seek out the one who swears he will “never leave or forsake you” (Heb. 13:5)?
Why indeed? And why don’t I?
I grumble. I complain. I ask others. But how often do I go to God first instead of waiting until all my other options are exhausted?
The early days of our marriage we were financially challenging. We lived in a 12 x 60 foot mobile home that was so old the windows didn’t even close completely. Good thing we lived in South Carolina. Bad thing that the first week after our wedding the temps hit a historical low of -4°. The curtains moved with every icy blast.
We learned to pray and ask God for enough money to pay the bills, go to the doctor, and save for a down payment on a house. Later, when we made the decision that I’d only work part time so I could stay home with our girls, we prayed every month that the money wouldn’t run out before the month did.
When we felt God leading us to homeschool, we knew we’d be living on one income in a two-income world, and we prayed a lot. We prayed for money for music lessons, high school classes, and a dependable car. We prayed for God to provide braces, a computer, and college tuition.
God always supplied—not only what we needed, but much of what we wanted, too. Amazing grace. He was a faithful Father, and we were his grateful children.
As our daughters have become young adults and started families of their own, we pray even more. We pray for them to grow strong in their faith, find success in their jobs, and rear their children in the nurture of the Lord. We pray for their safety, their health, and their marriages.
But sometimes we encounter a circumstance that is big, ugly, and scary, and we fall back into our default setting. We cry, complain, or try to fix it with our limited resources. We forget that we serve a compassionate God who eagerly desires to answer the prayers of his children.
When will we learn?
Perhaps you’re facing a stronghold in your life—an area where you just don’t see progress. Maybe you have a need. Or a want—something you’ve never told anyone about. It doesn’t have to be big, super-spiritual, or life threatening to matter to God. He delights in providing even the simple desires of our hearts.
Before you whine, cry, complain, or dismiss it as unimportant, why not talk to God about it? He sees. He cares. And he’s waiting for you to ask him.
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!” (Eph. 3:20).
Postscript: My husband and I have known for quite some time that it was time to leave our neighborhood and move to a safer one. As we sought the Lord for his favor in both selling our home and buying another, I felt comfortable sharing the desires of my heart with him.
Lord, I wrote in my journal, these features are important to me, but I trust you to know even better what we need. I’d love space to practice hospitality, plenty of windows and light, a pretty kitchen, and a safe neighborhood where I can walk unafraid. And if it’s closer to my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters, how sweet would that be?
My amazing realtor with our contract.Last week, after studying hundreds of houses and visiting many of them, we signed a contract on a home. As I listed this event in my thankful journal, I flipped back a few pages to the place where I’d shared my hopes with the Lord. Comparing the home we’d put a contract on with the one I had prayed for, I realized the Lord had led us to a home that has every feature I asked for. And more.I wrote EPHESIANS 3:20 across the entry and bowed my head in humble gratitude. What are the secret desires of your heart? Perhaps you haven’t had the faith to talk to the Lord about them.
Maybe now’s the time to set aside your independence and embrace spiritual dependence.
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
February 4, 2016
Forget Trump, I Need Your Vote!
I'm so excited!
Hungry for God ... Starving for Time, my five-minute devotional for busy women, has entered the race--the race to become one of the Christian Small Publisher Association's Books of the Year.
But, as Trump, Rubio, Cruz, and the host of other men and women asking for your vote would say,
"It can't happen without your help!"
Will you take a moment to vote for Hungry for God? It takes less than 5 minutes, you don't have to show your voter ID, and I would be SO grateful.
Click HERE to follow the link to the CSPA Book of the Year voting page.
Thank you from the bottom of my very excited heart :)
LoriIf 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
Hungry for God ... Starving for Time, my five-minute devotional for busy women, has entered the race--the race to become one of the Christian Small Publisher Association's Books of the Year.
But, as Trump, Rubio, Cruz, and the host of other men and women asking for your vote would say,
"It can't happen without your help!"
Will you take a moment to vote for Hungry for God? It takes less than 5 minutes, you don't have to show your voter ID, and I would be SO grateful.
Click HERE to follow the link to the CSPA Book of the Year voting page.
Thank you from the bottom of my very excited heart :)
LoriIf 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
How WILAG Energized My Quiet Time
WILAG.What is WILAG?
It’s not the latest Nintendo game, nor is it what happens when little people get tired. WILAG (WEE-lag) is a simple technique that has energized my quiet time. I’m excited to share it with you in the hopes it will breathe new life and power into your devotional time, too.
WILAG stands for What I Learned About God. Here’s how it works: Every morning, before I conclude my time of Bible reading, I ask myself, In light of what I just read,WILAG? What have I Learned About God? This may seem like an overly-simplistic question, but it’s crucial for several reasons.
First, it’s easy to open our Bibles, read a section, and close them again without really taking something away—something we can meditate on all day long. How often have you read a passage of Scripture and ten minutes later struggled to recall what you’d read? Me too. WILAG can help by forcing us to read purposefully.
Second, God’s designed his Word to be useful. But like healing ointment or nourishing food, God’s Word only works if we apply it. Reading without thoughtful introspection and application is like glancing at a banquet table laden with food instead of sitting down and digging in. Asking myself WILAG makes me stop and ponder. It encourages me to mentally sift through what I just read to find a nugget of God’s character.
Third, WILAG helps me fall more in love with God. When I was dating my husband, every time we were together I saw new aspects of his character. When I watched him interact with my younger sister, I discovered he was kind. When I heard him share his faith, I discovered he was concerned about the lost. When I saw him kiss his mother, I discovered he was tender.
Every attribute I saw in my husband made me fall more and more in love with him. The same thing happens when I ask myself WILAG after reading a passage of Scripture. WILAG in the story of the prodigal son shows me God’s unconditional love. WILAG in the story of Joseph shows me his sovereignty over circumstances. WILAG in the story of Lazarus shows me his power over death. Every attribute of God I discover makes me fall more and more in love with him.
Finally, WILAG gives me something to share. Every Christmas I drop money in the Salvation Army kettles. This year, I encountered a bell ringer at least four times before I donated. Why? Because I seldom carry cash. I had money at home, but it did the nice lady standing outside Wal Mart trying to fill her kettle absolutely no good, because I didn’t have it with me and readily available.
The same thing happens with biblical truth. If I read it early in the morning and then leave it at home, I have nothing to give when I encounter a needy soul. If I’ve asked myself WILAG at the end of my quiet time and written it down in my journal, I can recall more easily what I’ve learned about God. Easy recall makes for easy sharing. I just reach into my mental WILAG pocket and pull out a spiritual truth.
It’s been my experience that God will often show me a truth about himself during my early morning quiet time and later give me the perfect opportunity to share it with someone. If I’ve WILAGed, I’m ready.
If your devotional time has gotten a little stale, I encourage you to try WILAG. Read a passage of Scripture, ask yourself what have I learned about God?, and write it down in a journal. Think about it during the day, and be ready to share it. Most likely, God will send someone across your path who also needs what God has shown you about himself.
Now it’s your turn. What technique have you used to energize your devotional time? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts.
I had the most fun with the ladies of Riverland Hills Baptist Church on Monday night. I shared my new presentation, "Stepping Out, How Our Footwear Impacts Our Faith." Four hundred women (and a host of kind men who served them) enjoyed a meal catered by the Blue Marlin restaurant, special music, tons of door prizes, and a time of encouragement to walk out our faith in these troubled times. In the true spirit of the evening, some wore their favorite footwear. Check out Darlene's amazing boots, pictured at right. If you'd like to bring "Stepping Out," to your church or women's ministry event, visit my Speaking Ministry page for more details.
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
January 28, 2016
Why We Love Feeding People
What is it about us that enjoys feeding people?
In my family, it goes way back. “Eat!” my grandmother would say. “You’re too thin!” She’d fry up Portuguese doughnuts dusted heavily with sugar and set them before my sisters and me. Watching us devour her goodies, she’d smile a contented smile.
One of my favorite memories is of preparing my youngest daughter’s 8th birthday breakfast. I was committed to feeding my family a low-sugar, no-junk food diet, but on her birthday, healthy went out the window. The birthday girl could request anything she wanted.
She chose three of her favorite foods—chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, and ice cream with chocolate syrup. Seeing her eyes sparkle when I brought her tray into her bedroom was a joy. Watching her devour her special food made me happy.
Now that I’m a grandma, I’m having fun introducing my 2-year-old granddaughter to new foods. When she was a tiny girl, she loved strawberries. She’d eat the leaves and all if we didn’t watch her. She tasted watermelon for the first time at my house. Knowing it was going to be a messy process, we stripped her down to her diaper and sat her in the middle of the table. Barely old enough to sit up, she held a watermelon chunk in both hands and gummed her way to watermelon heaven. The memory of that day still makes me smile.
As a special treat at Christmas time, I gave her one of my favorite holiday goodies, a Peanut Butter Temptation. Baked in a mini muffin pan, these heavenly treats combine two of my favorites—a peanut butter cookie and a Reese’s peanut butter cup. She was delighted, and so was I.
Today I filled my bird feeder with black oil sunflower seeds for the first time this winter. It didn’t take long for the cardinals, chickadees, titmouses, and nuthatches to find the feast I left for them. They swarmed my feeder, returning again and again to fill their bellies. Every time I passed the window, I felt happy.
Watching my feathered friends feast and replaying my food memories makes me wonder if God takes equal delight in feeding us. Does it bring him pleasure to hear us sigh contentedly after a delicious meal? Does he grin happily when we return thanks for a bountiful Thanksgiving meal or a church potluck? Does his heart warm with satisfaction when we savor warm soup on a cold night?
Our heavenly Father loves to meet our needs. Like I happily shared my favorite Christmas goody with my granddaughter, God delights in providing for us. And because he is a father who loves to give good gifts to his children, he doesn’t stop at the minimum. Sometimes he serves us chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, AND ice cream with chocolate syrup, just because.
If you’re thankful for God’s generous hand of provision, why not join me in thanking God? Father, thank you for your generous heart toward us. Thank you for providing not just our needs, but our wants as well. Thank you for giving us the ability to taste food, share it with others, and return thanks. Help us never take it for granted, but always be mindful of where it came from. We love you, God. Amen.
"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?" (Mat. 6:26).
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
In my family, it goes way back. “Eat!” my grandmother would say. “You’re too thin!” She’d fry up Portuguese doughnuts dusted heavily with sugar and set them before my sisters and me. Watching us devour her goodies, she’d smile a contented smile. One of my favorite memories is of preparing my youngest daughter’s 8th birthday breakfast. I was committed to feeding my family a low-sugar, no-junk food diet, but on her birthday, healthy went out the window. The birthday girl could request anything she wanted.
She chose three of her favorite foods—chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, and ice cream with chocolate syrup. Seeing her eyes sparkle when I brought her tray into her bedroom was a joy. Watching her devour her special food made me happy.
Now that I’m a grandma, I’m having fun introducing my 2-year-old granddaughter to new foods. When she was a tiny girl, she loved strawberries. She’d eat the leaves and all if we didn’t watch her. She tasted watermelon for the first time at my house. Knowing it was going to be a messy process, we stripped her down to her diaper and sat her in the middle of the table. Barely old enough to sit up, she held a watermelon chunk in both hands and gummed her way to watermelon heaven. The memory of that day still makes me smile.
As a special treat at Christmas time, I gave her one of my favorite holiday goodies, a Peanut Butter Temptation. Baked in a mini muffin pan, these heavenly treats combine two of my favorites—a peanut butter cookie and a Reese’s peanut butter cup. She was delighted, and so was I.
Today I filled my bird feeder with black oil sunflower seeds for the first time this winter. It didn’t take long for the cardinals, chickadees, titmouses, and nuthatches to find the feast I left for them. They swarmed my feeder, returning again and again to fill their bellies. Every time I passed the window, I felt happy.
Watching my feathered friends feast and replaying my food memories makes me wonder if God takes equal delight in feeding us. Does it bring him pleasure to hear us sigh contentedly after a delicious meal? Does he grin happily when we return thanks for a bountiful Thanksgiving meal or a church potluck? Does his heart warm with satisfaction when we savor warm soup on a cold night? Our heavenly Father loves to meet our needs. Like I happily shared my favorite Christmas goody with my granddaughter, God delights in providing for us. And because he is a father who loves to give good gifts to his children, he doesn’t stop at the minimum. Sometimes he serves us chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, AND ice cream with chocolate syrup, just because.
If you’re thankful for God’s generous hand of provision, why not join me in thanking God? Father, thank you for your generous heart toward us. Thank you for providing not just our needs, but our wants as well. Thank you for giving us the ability to taste food, share it with others, and return thanks. Help us never take it for granted, but always be mindful of where it came from. We love you, God. Amen.
"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?" (Mat. 6:26).
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
Three Secrets to Living Longer
A recent study, detailed in Health magazine, “found that four bad behaviors—smoking, drinking too much alcohol, not exercising, and not eating enough fruits and veggies—can hustle you into an early grave, and, in effect, age you by as many as 12 years.” These results don’t surprise me. The medical community has known this for a long time. What does surprise me is that after an extensive Internet search, none of the top articles I read addressing the topic of longevity reported what I learned this morning during my Bible reading time.
I discovered three secrets to help us live a long and happy life:
1. Keep God’s commands.
Proverbs 3:1-2 says: "My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years and bring you prosperity." Wow, not just prolong my life, but prolong my life MANY years. AND bring me prosperity.
How does this work? Let’s think it through. If I’m honoring God’s commands, I’m not going to make many of the lifestyle choices that lead to premature death. I suspect thieves and murderers have a considerably shorter life expectancy than law-abiding citizens. Those destined for the electric chair certainly do.
Honoring God’s commands also means that we’re less likely to engage in reckless or foolish behavior, irresponsible eating and drinking, and life-destroying relationships. A woman who has chosen to honor God with her body won’t be sleeping around and catching an STD, nor will she be driving drunk.
If she’s applying God’s commandments to her life, she’s also going to be developing solid, strong friendships, a life enhancing quality, according to Prevention magazine. She’s going to be working hard caring for her family and her home, another life-extending behavior. And she’s going to have less stress, because it’s impossible to simultaneously worry and trust God.
From a financial standpoint (remember the second half of the promise in Psalm 3:1-2, prosperity), applying God’s commands mean we’re less likely to engage in financially reckless behavior. We’ll save instead of spending carelessly. We’ll give to the church and other worthy causes. We’ll avoid indebtedness, repay what we owe in a timely manner, and pay our taxes. Financial advisers like Dave Ramsey agree that following these practices will help bring about prosperity.
What do you know? God’s Word is spot on. “Walk in all the way that the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live and prosper and prolong your days in the land that you will possess” (Deut. 5:33).
2. Honor our parents.
Deuteronomy 5:16 commands us to "Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you.” Ephesians 6 calls it “the first command with a promise.” A promise. From God. To bless us.
Honoring our parents means listening carefully to and considering their wisdom. It means treating them with respect, serving them unselfishly, and making time for them. When we honor our parents, we take into account their human frailties, personality quirks, and sin and love them anyway. Honoring them becomes an extension of worship to our Lord, our heavenly Father, and this pleases God. So much, that he promises to bless us and extend our lives.
The final secret to help us live a long and happy life isn’t limited to our physical lives. If we put this next step into practice, we’ll not only have a reasonably good chance of living to a ripe, old age, we’ll live forever.
3. Believe in Jesus Christ.
Our lives on this earth are fleeting. Following God’s commands and honoring our parents will help extend and enhance them, but one day they will end. Our souls, however, will live on. What we’ve done with Jesus Christ will determine whether our souls will spend eternity in God’s presence or eternally separated from him.
Thankfully, God has made provision for this as well. John 3:16 records his plan: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).
Medical science has discovered much about longevity and life-extending practices. The truths found in God’s Word form the basis of this knowledge. Obeying God’s Word and honoring our parents will increase our chances of living a long life, but there are no guarantees. Godly believers who honor their parents still die, and some of them die young. This is why what matters most is what happens after our physical bodies die. Entrusting our souls to Jesus Christ is our only hope.
But it is a strong and sure hope.
Now it’s your turn. What life-extending practices have you embraced, and with which ones are you still struggling? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts.
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
January 25, 2016
How to Be Angry and Sin Not
It’s midnight Saturday night, and the music is blaring from our next-door neighbor’s house. In my husband’s BC (Before Christ) days, this would have been an invitation to a great evening, but now it’s just annoying. And frustrating. And about to make him angry. Unlike our partying neighbors, we plan to attend church in the morning. My husband, the pastor, doesn’t have the option to sit on the back pew and take a nap. He’s got to preach. And to be ready to preach, he’s got to get a good night’s sleep. But with the ground-pounding, window-rattling noise, sleep is impossible.
We lie there, and I feel his body tensing in frustration. He tosses one way, then the other, mashing the pillow against the side of his head in an attempt to block out the noise. I grab the portable fan from the kitchen and turn it on high, hoping to drown the waves of music in a sea of white noise. It does little to muffle the pounding beat.
His frustration, combined with anger and fatigue, finally does him in. He leaps from bed, storms out the door, and confronts our neighbor.
It isn’t pretty.
Or polite. Or God-honoring. My husband’s angry reaction was something he regretted later, when morning dawned, and he wasn’t so tired. He’s conscious of the fact that our neighbors don’t yet know the Lord, and he wants to be a good witness. Clashes like this hinder his attempts to develop a relationship with them, and, one day, share the Gospel.
Anger, especially righteous anger, is a powerful thing. Our neighbors were unnecessarily loud and inconsiderate, and my husband’s complaint was justified. But even he, in the light of day, acknowledged that responding in anger wasn’t the best way to handle the situation.
“Be angry and do not sin,” Psalm 4 warns us. James 1:20 tells us why: “for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.”
Thankfully, in addition to a warning, the fourth Psalm gives us guidance for how to deal with anger in a God-honoring way:
“Be angry, and do not sin.
Meditate within your heart on your bed, and be still.
Offer the sacrifices of righteousness,
And put your trust in the Lord” (v 4-5).
Several months after this incident, my husband had an opportunity to put these instructions into practice.
It was 3 a.m., and we were startled awake by a car alarm sounding under our bedroom window. Peeking through the blinds to make sure no one was stealing our neighbor’s car, I saw his adult daughter drive off. “Must have hit the alarm by accident.”
At least five times a day thereafter, our neighbor’s car alarm would sound. Four ear-splitting honks. It happened in the daytime, and it happened at night. One night it awakened us at 11 p.m., the next night at midnight.
“I know what we’re going to,” my husband said one morning at breakfast.
“What?”
“Bring ‘em a pound cake.”
“What?”
“A pound cake. Getting angry doesn’t help, so let’s try a different approach. Let’s bake ‘em a pound cake.”
So I did. And he took it over. And he didn’t say a word about the car horn.
The next day, when the clock radio went off at 4:45, he said, “I’ve been awake since three, when the car alarm went off. I’m going to have to say something to them.”
Uh oh, I thought. He left for work, and I prayed. Lord, you tell us not to sin in our anger. Please help David express his frustration without getting angry. Please help them have a conversation that glorifies you.
Later that day, he told me what happened.
“I was polite. I just told him how disturbing the alarm was and asked him what was going on. His daughter bought the car used, and it didn’t come with a key fob. Every time she unlocks the door, the horn starts blaring until she puts the key in the ignition. She’s about to pull her hair out. It’s embarrassing. Anyway, they’ve ordered a fob and hopefully it’ll be in soon. He apologized for the noise.”
Success—and such a different outcome.
Here are the four steps to take, according to Psalm 4, when we become angry: 1. Acknowledge our anger, but do not sin.
2. Meditate on God’s Word. Ask him to remind us of Scripture that applies to the situation.
3. Respond with righteous acts instead of sinful ones.
4. Trust God to either bring about a resolution or give us the grace to bear it.
Our noisy neighbor situation is mild compared to some issues. Pound cake and a peaceful conversation might not defuse more complicated clashes, but, big or small, we can apply the steps laid out for us in Psalm 4 and trust God to work. His Word is trustworthy, wise, and given for our instruction. We do well to apply it.
Now it’s your turn. Have you ever chosen to honor God in a situation, even though your emotions wanted to strike out in anger? What was the result? Leave a comment below. I’d love to hear your story.
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
January 21, 2016
Don't Just Pray FOR People, Pray WITH Them
“So, what’s new with you since I saw you last?” I asked my dental patient as I seated her in the chair and clipped a napkin around her neck.
“Oh,” she said with a smile, clasping her hands together, “today’s a big day. My daughter’s in labor with her fourth child. They just called me from the hospital.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked, my voice one octave lower than a squeal. “You can get your teeth cleaned anytime. Go to the hospital.”
“No, no,” she said, “It’ll be a while before I can see them. I’ll head over after I’m finished. But if it’s OK, I’m going to keep my phone on just in case they call.”
“Absolutely,” I said, and got right to work. I had just finished polishing her teeth when her phone vibrated.
“Hello. Yes. Oh no! OK, I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She snapped the phone shut and turned to me with frightened eyes.
“The baby’s been born, but he’s having trouble breathing. They think there’s something wrong with his heart.”
A thousand thoughts swirled in my mind, but one rose to the surface: We’ve got to pray.
One the heels of that thought, however, came a half dozen others: You don’t know if this lady even believes in prayer. What if she doesn’t want you to pray? What if it’s awkward? What if your boss walks by and sees you? What if you get in trouble?
Then the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit stilled the naysayers. That baby needs your prayers. And this grandmother needs them, too.
"Oh, Mrs. B.,” I said, placing my hand on her arm, “let’s pray for your grandson.” We bowed our heads, and I prayed. “Lord, please spare this baby’s life. Give the doctors and nurses wisdom and skill to care for him. Send your peace to quiet the parents’ frightened hearts. Most of all, glorify yourself in and through this scary situation. In Jesus’ name I ask, Amen.”
“Thank you so much,” Mrs. B. said.
Removing the napkin from around her neck and handing her her purse, I walked her down the hall and out the door.
“Please let me know how the baby’s doing,” I called after her. “I’ll be praying.”
In my 35 years as a believer, I’ve had many opportunities to pray with people in need. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes the situation doesn’t allow me to pray on the spot, and I tell them, “I’ll pray for you,” and sincerely mean it. Other times I could pray with them, but I chicken out. I listen to the voices of the enemy instead of the voice of God and miss the opportunity to speak faith into a troubled soul.
In my lifetime, many people have prayed aloud over me. It's a very powerful experience. These spoken prayers invite God’s power into my situation. They reassure me that someone is standing in the gap for me and calling my name before God’s throne.
Silent, faith-filled prayers are powerful. In many situations, faith-filled prayers spoken aloud are even more powerful.
This is why my goal in 2016 is, whenever possible and appropriate, not only to pray FOR people, but also to pray WITH them. Will you join me?
And if you’re wondering about Mrs. B.’s grandson, he’s now a strong, healthy 15-year-old whose difficult beginning secured him a very special place in his grandma’s heart. And in mine as well.
"For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition . . .” (1 Sam. 1:27 NKJV).
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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher
“Oh,” she said with a smile, clasping her hands together, “today’s a big day. My daughter’s in labor with her fourth child. They just called me from the hospital.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked, my voice one octave lower than a squeal. “You can get your teeth cleaned anytime. Go to the hospital.”
“No, no,” she said, “It’ll be a while before I can see them. I’ll head over after I’m finished. But if it’s OK, I’m going to keep my phone on just in case they call.”
“Absolutely,” I said, and got right to work. I had just finished polishing her teeth when her phone vibrated.
“Hello. Yes. Oh no! OK, I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She snapped the phone shut and turned to me with frightened eyes.
“The baby’s been born, but he’s having trouble breathing. They think there’s something wrong with his heart.”
A thousand thoughts swirled in my mind, but one rose to the surface: We’ve got to pray.
One the heels of that thought, however, came a half dozen others: You don’t know if this lady even believes in prayer. What if she doesn’t want you to pray? What if it’s awkward? What if your boss walks by and sees you? What if you get in trouble?
Then the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit stilled the naysayers. That baby needs your prayers. And this grandmother needs them, too.
"Oh, Mrs. B.,” I said, placing my hand on her arm, “let’s pray for your grandson.” We bowed our heads, and I prayed. “Lord, please spare this baby’s life. Give the doctors and nurses wisdom and skill to care for him. Send your peace to quiet the parents’ frightened hearts. Most of all, glorify yourself in and through this scary situation. In Jesus’ name I ask, Amen.” “Thank you so much,” Mrs. B. said.
Removing the napkin from around her neck and handing her her purse, I walked her down the hall and out the door.
“Please let me know how the baby’s doing,” I called after her. “I’ll be praying.”
In my 35 years as a believer, I’ve had many opportunities to pray with people in need. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes the situation doesn’t allow me to pray on the spot, and I tell them, “I’ll pray for you,” and sincerely mean it. Other times I could pray with them, but I chicken out. I listen to the voices of the enemy instead of the voice of God and miss the opportunity to speak faith into a troubled soul.
In my lifetime, many people have prayed aloud over me. It's a very powerful experience. These spoken prayers invite God’s power into my situation. They reassure me that someone is standing in the gap for me and calling my name before God’s throne. Silent, faith-filled prayers are powerful. In many situations, faith-filled prayers spoken aloud are even more powerful.
This is why my goal in 2016 is, whenever possible and appropriate, not only to pray FOR people, but also to pray WITH them. Will you join me?
And if you’re wondering about Mrs. B.’s grandson, he’s now a strong, healthy 15-year-old whose difficult beginning secured him a very special place in his grandma’s heart. And in mine as well.
"For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition . . .” (1 Sam. 1:27 NKJV).
If you enjoyed this post, why not subscribe? I'll send you twice-weekly 5-minute devotions to help nourish your soul.
Because women need to connect with God in the craziness of life.
Enter your email address and VALIDATE the Feedburner email sent to your inbox.
Delivered by FeedBurner
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
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