Lori Hatcher's Blog: Refresh Blog, page 79

Someone's praying for you

There are times in a person’s life when it’s hard to pray. Times of confusion and chaos. Times of loss and grief. Times of panic and fear. Times of hopelessness and struggling faith. 

When the circumstances of life squeeze hard and leave us gasping for breath, it’s hard to form specific, faith-filled prayers. When the events of a crisis speed past us, and we feel like a puppy that wandered onto the interstate, the mental concentration to petition heaven just isn’t there. When we’re holding on to life and sanity with all we have, and all we have isn’t much, there’s little energy left to claim God’s promises. 

This is when the prayers of others carry us. 

I’m very fortunate to have brothers and sisters in Christ who pray for me and with me. It is a great gift. I hope you have mighty prayer warriors in your life, but if you don’t, do not despair. Every believer has the greatest prayer warrior in the world interceding for him or her. Romans 8 tells us his name—the Holy Spirit. 

The third member of the trinity, God himself, prays for you. 

In the dark night of the soul, you are not alone. The Holy Spirit of God is there to strengthen you, guide you, sustain you, and ask God the Father for exactly what you need to make it through. Listen to Romans 8:26: 

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” 

When we are confused, afraid, weak, and hopeless, God himself, through the person of the Holy Spirit, prays for us. 

Not only prays for us, but searches our hearts so deeply that he knows everything in them. He sees our fears, our pain, our guilt, and our shame. He is intimately acquainted with all our ways, but instead of condemning us, he uses his knowledge to pray for us. 

And he prays for us according to God’s will. 

Because I am mortal, I have limited understanding and wisdom. When I pray for others, I’m not always sure of what to pray. I don’t know what’s best for my friend who’s struggling in her marriage, or my neighbor who’s stuck in a dead end job. I don’t know how to counsel my husband who’s making significant life decisions. 

But God is all knowing. We never have to fear that the Holy Spirit will ask for something on our behalf that isn’t God’s best for us. We can trust him. Here’s proof from Scripture: 

“And he (God) who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will” (Romans 8:27). 

If you’re struggling today, cry out to God. Tell him your hurts, needs, and fears. Cling to him in faith, knowing that as you pray, and even if you are unable to pray, God the Holy Spirit is praying for you.


“Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven. Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men” 
(Psalm 107:28-31)


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Could God Be Testing You?

My grandmother was a Portuguese immigrant. The daughter of textile mill workers, she was much older than the English speaking students in her class, and they mocked her. She quit school after the fourth grade when she learned to read, write, and do simple math. 

At 14, she lied about her age so she could join her parents and eldest brother in the mill. When mill work became too strenuous, she hired herself out to babysit other mill workers’ children.


She once told me a story about the first man for whom she worked. “Money was always tight,” she said. “They had five children. But every now and then Mr. P. would leave money lying around on a table or a dresser. I wondered why he would be so careless. . .”

Peering at me over the top of her over-sized reading glasses, she raised an eyebrow and shook her finger. “THEN I figured it out. He was testing me. He wanted to see if I was honest.” Her eyes looked beyond mine and into the past. “I never took anything,” she said softly. “Not even a coin I found in his pocket when I was doing the laundry.”

The concept of testing is biblical.

God tested Abraham when he told him to sacrifice Isaac on the altar (Genesis 22:1). God tested Hezekiah, too: “But when envoys were sent by the rulers of Babylon to ask him about the miraculous sign that had occurred in the land, God left him to test him and to know everything that was in his heart” (2 Chr. 32:31).

Because God is omniscient (all knowing), he knew Abraham would trust his promises and be willing to sacrifice Isaac on the altar, so why did he test him? He knew what was in Hezekiah’s heart and how he would respond to the test set before him, so why did he test him?

And why does he test us?

Maybe because Abraham needed to know whether he loved God more than anyone and anything else. And maybe because Hezekiah needed to know whether his heart was wholly committed to the Lord.

Times of testing, when circumstances are overwhelming and God seems far away force us to make a choice: will we believe God’s promises, or will we allow our circumstances to steal our faith?

Joshua summed up the choice in one sentence: “Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve,” (Josh. 24:15). 

Mr. P. didn't leave money around because he hoped my grandmother would steal. He left money around so she could prove  she was honest. God doesn't test our faith because he hopes we will fail. He tests us so we can stake our faith firmly on him.

If you’re going through a faith crisis, I challenge you to keep your eyes on Jesus. Trust him with your past, your present, and your future. Throw in your whole lot with the one who loved you enough to die for you.

I can say with confidence, God will not disappoint you. 


When you weather a crisis and come out on the other side with your faith not only intact, but stronger than ever, God will use your testimony to strengthen and encourage others. He’ll give you authentic and indisputable faith stories. He’ll use your tears to water others’ fledgling faith, and he’ll use your obedience to accomplish spiritual deeds on his behalf—all because you passed the faith test.

So how do we pass? By mustering up our own courage, strength, or trust?

No.

We pass God's test by clinging tightly to his hand, asking him to strengthen us, and trusting his will for our lives. We say with Joshua, “as for me and my household, (no matter what) we will serve the LORD.” 

I hope one day I'll hear God say the same words he said to Abraham: “Now I know that you fear God.”

What about you? Are you experiencing a trial? Could it be a test from the Lord to strengthen your faith? God's given you the power to pass the test, and he's rooting for you.  How are you going to respond?


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

When Your Life Feels Like a Roller Coaster

Thirty years ago my husband of two days put me on Space Mountain at Disney World. I say put because there was no way on God’s green earth I would have voluntarily climbed into that capsule of death and flung my life to the wind. I was tricked, blindsided, and betrayed. 

For two days, on many of the attractions at Disney, we had climbed into seats and fastened our belts. Some seats stayed in place and shook, pitched, and swayed dramatically without ever leaving the ground (the now defunct Mission to Mars). Others separated from their rows and carried us gently through misty prehistoric landscapes populated by audio-animatronic dinosaurs belching sulfuric gasses as we passed (ExxonMobile’s Universe of Energy). Still others ferried us from one cherubic scene to another as happy children sang “It’s a Small World.” 

It was my first trip to Disney World and our honeymoon week. Knowing that Disney was considered an “amusement park,” I made it clear to my new groom that I did NOT like scary rides. The most dangerous ride I’d ever been on was the carousel at Crescent Park. “No tilt-a-whirls, no Scramblers, not even a Ferris Wheel,” I explained, “and certainly NEVER a roller coaster. I’m a coward, and I plan to stay that way.” 

Initially apprehensive that one of the rides we went on might be too fast or too scary, I gradually relaxed and began to enjoy myself. My trust in my new husband grew. He had made a great choice for our honeymoon destination and was kind and patient with my limitations. 

Until Space Mountain. 

Since I’d grown up 1,000 miles away in New England, Disney World was the place where rich kids and their parents went on vacation. I didn’t know any rich kids, so I’d heard very little about the theme park. I had no clue what any of the rides were. 

My husband, on the other hand, had lived in Jacksonville. He had visited Disney World 14 times. He knew the park as well as he knew his own neighborhood. When he suggested it as a honeymoon destination, I was thrilled. 

That fateful morning we walked through the park hand in hand, eager to begin our day. “Let’s go here,” he said, pointing to a huge, circular white building that looked like an upside-down cupcake wrapper. Giant letters that spelled out Space Mountain adorned the pleated top. 

“OK,” I replied, following trustingly behind. Blind trust accurately describes the only reason I remained in that serpentine line winding slowly past signs that warned If you have a heart condition, do not ride this ride, and If you are prone to anxiety attacks, panic disorders, or fainting spells, do not ride this ride. Not even the sign that said Secure your hats and glasses prior to entering clued me in to what was ahead. 

Finally it was our turn, and the attendant directed me to the front seat in the front car. My new husband sat immediately behind me. I buckled in, the attendant checked my seat belt, and I settled back for the ride. Must be a constellation show, I thought, noticing that the room on the other side of the small doorway through which we would soon travel was dark. 

And that’s the last pleasant thought I remember. Hm . . . we’re going up . . . what’s that clacking noise? . . . it’s really dark in here . . . when does the narration begin? . . . all I see are a few stars . . . this is pretty lame . . . wonder why they call it Space Mouuuuuuuuu uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu 

The seat dropped from under me, my seat belt grabbed me, and I hung, suspended between the hard cold car and eternity. I crashed down onto the seat, only to rise again, with only a length of belt and a flimsy buckle tethering me to my torture chamber. 

I wedged my shins against the front of the car to brace myself, smothered a scream, and wondered if two days of consummated marriage disqualified me for an annulment. I want to die, I thought. No, I want to live. I want to live so I can kill my husband. 

The fact that we’ve now been married for 30 years clues you in to the fact that not only did I survive my ride on Space Mountain, but so did my husband. When the longest ride in the history of Disney ended, he took one look at my white face, teary eyes, and scraped shins and realized he had made a serious mistake. “No roller coasters” to him had meant, “no scary roller coasters.” To me, it meant, “nothing faster than the tea cups and saucers.” 

He apologized. I fumed. He humbly begged my forgiveness. I silently ignored his pleas. He promised to never ever ever ever to do such a thing again, and I relented. We did love each other, after all, and it was our honeymoon. 

In November, to celebrate our 30th anniversary, we’ll be returning to Disney World, but that’s not why I thought of Space Mountain today. I thought of Space Mountain because my roller coaster experience reminds me of life. 

Life often chugs along smoothly. We have money in the bank, our bodies are healthy, and our relationships with friends and family are strong. 


But sometimes the sky grows dark. Uncertainty looms. The bottom drops out from under us, and we wonder if the slender cord we’re trusting in is enough to hold us. Worse yet, we wonder if the One in whom we’re trusting might not be worthy of our trust. Has He abandoned us? Left us in the dark to face our fears alone? Thrust us into the unknown with no way out? 

Even more unsettling, was it He who buckled our trusting selves into the very car that will carry us to our destruction? Have we been tricked? Blindsided? Betrayed? 

Thankfully God’s Word answers these questions for us: 

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you are with me” (Ps. 23:4). 

“I will never leave you or forsake you” (Heb. 13:5). 

“For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men” (Lam. 3:31). 

“But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:4-7). 

If you feel like you’re on a roller coaster in the dark today, I pray these truths will comfort and encourage you. Remember, “the eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deut. 33:27).


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

A New Take on an Old Rule -- A Guest Post by Debra Coleman Jeter

We all know the Golden Rule in Matthew 7: 12, but sometimes I wonder if we interpret it too literally.

Over the years, I’ve become convinced that what Christ intended was for us to do unto others as they would have us to do. Most of the time this is equivalent to doing to others as we would have them do unto us, but occasionally it’s different.

For example, some of us love surprises. Others who do not. Just because we are among those who love surprises doesn’t mean we should plan a surprise party for a spouse who has told us sincerely and repeatedly that he doesn’t want one, or that he hates being the object of attention. You may know your spouse well enough to know that he would love such a party deep down despite his protests, but I’m pretty sure mine would not (he says there should no “pretty” about it).

As another example, my husband thinks the heel of the bread is an inferior slice, so he avoids it when he makes me a sandwich. I prefer that slice, but I know he’s doing me an intended kindness by avoiding it. When my husband is ill, he likes to go to bed and be left alone. I like to have someone look after me. In the early days of our marriage, this was hard for him to understand.

To some extent, we become set in our ways as we grow older, but with the Lord’s help and a lot of will and work, we can change and improve in our other-centeredness.


If you prefer to have lots of friends around to commemorate important occasions, but your loved one prefers only the immediate family, you may want to refrain from inviting “extras” when it’s his or her celebration. If you prefer to receive gift cards for Christmas but your sister prefers gaily wrapped packages, you probably shouldn’t give her a gift card. If you prefer board games but your husband calls them “boring” games, it may not be wise to assume he’s really itching for a game of Scrabble. If no one but you can make your coffee or tea quite right, keep in mind that others might enjoy being waited on occasionally (even if there’s slightly too much or too little cream).

Many of these examples are trivial, but becoming familiar with the preferences of your loved ones can make you a better friend and family member. 

And isn’t this what you would have them do unto you?


Debra Coleman Jeter is a Vanderbilt University professor whose debut young adult novel, The Ticket, is now available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other outlets. She’s published fiction and nonfiction in popular magazines, including Working Woman, New Woman, Self, Home Life, Savvy, Christian Woman, and American Baby. Debra is a co-writer of the screenplay for Jess + Moss, a feature film which premiered in 2011 at the Sundance Film Festival and captured several international awards. She lives in Clarksville, Tennessee, with her husband.




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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

When You Feel Like a Failure as a Wife

I don’t know why it’s such a struggle to doing and being what our husbands need us to do and to be.

Is it selfishness? Laziness? Neglect? Misplaced priorities?

Yes, I think it is.

Selfishness because we prefer other ways of showing love—ways that are easy. Ways that fit our nature. We can do them in our sleep, check off the boxes, and feel like good wives. 

Except it doesn’t feel like love to our husbands, so it defeats the whole purpose. Giving love our husbands can’t receive is pointless—like cooking a steak for a vegetarian. We can put all the love in the world into making it, but a vegan won’t get anything out of a steak except a greater hunger and a whole lot of frustration.

Laziness because learning a different love language takes time. And effort. And commitment. And discipline. And we want the easy way. It’s frustrating to speak those newly conjugated love language verbs and see a blank look on his face. Or worse, a snicker, or the drooping shoulders of disappointment. To know we’ve missed the mark again. Right word, wrong timing. Or right timing, wrong approach. Or the wrong language entirely. Comment allez-vous? Muy bien, gracias. 

Rivers take the path of least resistance, but for our marriages to be healthy, we must be rivers that carve a path through a rock canyon—the flint-hard stone of our own sinful nature that defaults to lazy whenever things seem to be going OK.

Neglect because we take them for granted. They’ve been faithful, loyal, and hard working for so long. The thought that they would be anything else seldom crosses our minds. They’ve done a good job of making us feel loved. How can we be failing so miserably?

Misplaced priorities because the tyranny of the urgent screams loudly while they only sigh. Until we reach a crisis point—then the anger echoes loudly against the cold walls of our bedroom, and we wonder how we’ve reached this place.

Again.

Hopeless.

Hopeless.

Hopeless.

You'll never change. 

They might say it to us in words dripping with disappointment and compromise. Settling for what they think they have a chance of getting but don’t really want. A consolation when they really want the grand prize.

Their hopelessness almost sucks us in. We almost believe them because we know the weakness of our flesh and the truth of Romans 7: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.”

But then the still small Voice whispers Philippians 1:6 into our hearts, “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”

We realize we can’t conquer laziness, selfishness, neglect, and misplaced priorities. But God can.

“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness” (Lam. 3:21-23).

God began a good work in us and in our marriages, and by God’s good grace, he will be faithful to complete it.

Instead of hopeless, we can be hopeful.


If you're struggling in your marriage, here are two great resources:

7 Things He'll Never Tell  You, But He Wants You to Know by Dr. Kevin Leman

The Marriage You've Always Wanted by Dr. Gary Chapman





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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Satan's Game -- A Guest Post by Kelli Hughett

One of the best parts of summer as a child was visiting friends. Sleeping over was the best, but even a short visit to a friend's house was a treat. 

Today I'd like to introduce you to Kelli Hughett, a new friend and fellow Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas author who's visiting my blog today. Like the summer visits of long ago, I hope you enjoy Kelli's time with us today.



Satan's Game

Have you ever played Jenga? Each player takes turns pulling a block out of a large stack, tugging ever so carefully so as not to upset the tower. If you cause the tower to fall, you lose. 

Sometimes, I’m afraid we play Jenga with our faith. We stack our towers with spiritual building blocks—prayer, Bible reading, fellowship, meditation, service, obedience, and belief. 

When the pressures of life assault our tower, however, we begin to play Satan’s game instead. We feel the pressures of time and commitment and believe the lie that if we remove a block from our life stack, things will improve. Prayer is often the first block we slide from the tower. 

At first we don’t even miss it. The base of our tower remains strong and unmoving. Then more pressure comes. More defeat, more struggle, more disappointment, less money. 

We slide other blocks from the tower, thinking we can use the room for other things, but the slot remains empty because nothing can fill the space where faith fits in our lives. 

We pull blocks out left and right, but we’re not stupid. We try to slide blocks from all sides, counting on perfect balance to keep our tower aloft. 

After a while, the tower begins to sway precariously. 

This is Satan’s favorite part of the game. A sneeze, a tiny tremor of the table, even a slight breeze can cause the tower of our faith to fall to ruin. Make no mistake, he will take this advantage. 


How is your faith tower doing today? Is it solid and strong, or does it feel like the slightest breeze will blow it over? Is Satan’s game about to topple your tower? 

Or maybe your tower’s already crashed to the ground, and you’re sitting in the rubble wondering how it happened. 

May I encourage you? Give your blocks to the Master and stop playing Satan’s game. First Corinthians 3:11 reminds us that Jesus Christ is the foundation of our faith. 

“For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.” 

Jesus Christ is the true foundation. 

First Corinthians 3:13-14 says: “their work will be shown for what it is, because the day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person's work. If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. 

We want our work to survive the fire. We want our tower to survive the pressures of this life. 

Dear friend, build on Jesus. Put the blocks back one by one, line upon line. Cement the blocks with love and grace. Put prayer back in. Slide in Bible Study. Tap meditation into place. Hammer obedience home. 

Stop playing Satan’s game and build on Jesus, the true foundation. 



Kelli Hughettholds a degree in Women’s Ministry from Bear Valley Bible Institute of Denver. In addition to teaching women, Kelli is a fiction writer and homeschool mom. She and her husband, Kirt, work with the church in Windsor, Colorado where they’re raising their three kids. Kelli loves agricultural landscapes, the Broncos, and reading the classics. Her debut novel, Red Zone, is available on Amazon. You can read more devotional thoughts or book a speaking engagement with Kelli at www.kellihughett.com. 





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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Obeying God Even When It Costs You Something

Richard* made a faith promise pledge to the building project at his church. He committed to give a certain amount of money every month for two years.
Then the stock market crashed.
Instead of having a comfortable income that allowed him to meet his family’s needs and many of their wants, he now had an income that barely covered the basics. With fifteen months still left of his pledge to the building project, he wondered if he should continue to give.
“You need to look out for your family,” one friend said. Richard knew this was true, but he also knew it wasn’t a question of providing his family’s needs. It was their wants they’d be doing without if he kept his commitment.
“God will understand,” another counseled. “After all, he’s the one who allowed your income to be reduced in the first place.”
But the more he thought about reneging on his promise, the more uncomfortable he became. He thought about the instruction he’d read recently in Numbers 30:2. “When a man makes a vow to the LORD or takes an oath to obligate himself by a pledge, he must not break his word but must do everything he said.”
He thought about how good God was, how he had always provided for him and his family, and how he was still providing, even during a difficult economic downturn. He thought about how Jesus had commended the widow for giving out of her poverty, and knew he was far from poor.
One morning, seeking counsel from the Scripture, Richard read the account of King Amaziah in 2 Chronicles 25. Amaziah was gathering an army of fighting men from among the people of Judah. A great military threat loomed on the horizon, and he wanted to be prepared. He wondered if his 300,000 men would be enough to defend the country.
Fearful, he decided to shore up his forces by hiring 100,000 mercenaries from the country of Israel—to the tune of one hundred talents of silver. To put this in perspective, this equals about ten million dollars in today’s economy.
Before the ink had dried on the payroll check, however, the man of God came knocking on the door of his throne room. “Don’t let the army of Israel go with you, King Amaziah,” the prophet said. “God is not with Israel. If you do, God will make you fall before the enemy.” Then he scolded Amaziah for his lack of faith. “Don’t you realize ‘God has power to help and to overthrow’?”
Amaziah was cut to the heart, and rightfully so, for God had always been faithful to him. He’d never given him reason to doubt, and certainly no reason to put his trust in human power rather than in the Lord’s.
But there was still the matter of the ten million dollars.
“What shall we do about the hundred talents which I have given to the troops of Israel?”
And the man of God answered, ‘The Lord is able to give you much more than this.’
“So Amaziah discharged the troops that had come to him from Ephraim, to go back home.” He led his significantly smaller army into battle, and, with the Lord’s help, they conquered their enemy.
When Richard read this account, he knew what the Lord was telling him do.
He called a family meeting, explained the financial circumstances they were facing, and told the children about the commitment he and his wife had made to the Lord. Then he shared with his family how the Lord had spoken to him through his Bible reading.
“It’s going to be challenging for the next 15 months,” he told them. “We’ll have everything we need, but I’m going to have to say no when you ask me for money for extras. God has been so faithful to provide for our family all these years. I know we can trust him.”
And trust him they did. The kids were great, although occasionally they’d whine and complain. Sometimes Richard felt like a terrible father when they’d ask him for money to go out with their friends for pizza and he’d say no.
Eventually his daughter sought babysitting jobs and his son mowed lawns to earn pocket money. They invited friends into their home for games and dinner instead of eating out at a restaurant. They borrowed movies from the library, popped microwave popcorn, and piled up together on the couch. He and his wife brainstormed creative, free date nights. They grew closer together as a family, more creative, and much more resourceful. When they did splurge on a birthday dinner out or a special outing, they no longer took it for granted.
When fifteen months had passed and the day came to write the final pledge check to the church, Richard gathered his family around the table. He told them how proud he was of them. He recounted the many ways God had shown himself faithful over the past year and how they had lacked nothing essential. When he took stock of where they were, compared to a year before, he realized God’s Word to him had been true:
“The Lord is able to give you much more than this.”
Are you afraid to do what’s right because it might cost you something? Are you hesitant to obey what God wants you to do because it involves financial risk? Take the words of the man of God to heart: “The Lord is able to give you much more than this.”
Step out in faith today.



*This is a true story.




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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

Cease Striving - A Guest Post by Nan Jones

Today I'd like to introduce guest blogger Nan Jones. Nan and I met at the Writers Advance Boot Camp conference in 2014, but I knew a lot about her before we met. I'd even been privy to the private details of her life as a pastor's wife.

Are you curious?

As faculty at Writers Advance Boot Camp 2014, I had the privilege of serving as a judge in the conference's annual writers' contest. Nan had entered her book proposal, Perils of a Pastor's Wife. Of all the proposals I read that year, I gave Nan's the highest score. Her ability to paint vivid word pictures, her transparency about the struggles pastors and their families face, and her faith-filled encouragement to her sisters in the ministry had produced a manuscript I felt deserved the top prize--a publishing contract.

But I was only one of several judges. Would the other judges be equally impressed? 


As you can see in the photo, I wasn't surprised at all when the conference director announced the winner, but Nan sure was.

It's my pleasure to share one of Nan's devotions and tell you a little bit about her book. It's been quite a journey to get to this place, and I'm delighted to be part of its launch.





Cease Striving


I came in from work frazzled and weary with my insides running a million miles an hour like a gerbil on its wheel. Frustrated tears trickled down my cheeks, releasing the pressure of a busy and emotional day. I prayed. I sighed. I prayed. I cried.

I closed my eyes and spoke the name of Jesus.

Jesus ... softer still ... Jesus.

He began to quiet me with His love. In my spirit I felt the Lord nudging me to seek solace on my porch "sanctuary". I live in the mountains of North Carolina far away from city lights and traffic. Countless hours of communion with the Lord have occurred while aimlessly rocking on my beloved porch.

I snuggled into the corner of the porch swing. With my toe, I gently moved the swing back and forth … back and forth … the simple rhythm soothing my spirit, refreshing my tired body. I closed my eyes and thought about the Lord.

You are wonderful, Lord. Your love embraces me with a comforting warmth. I'm so thankful for You.

I sat quietly, closed my eyes, and steadied my heart. A sweet breeze kicked up, rustling the wind chimes, sending them into song. A celestial melody filled the air. The cardinal chirping in a wild cherry across the way joined in. Out back a woodpecker drummed on our apple tree, adding percussion to the symphony. I'm certain the strings section buzzed in and out of my irises. Oh my! What a heavenly chorus of praise to the Creator. 

I could sense his lovely presence surrounding me.

Because of Jesus, we can know our God. We can know his voice and his love. Isn't that amazing? What love is this that we can walk with the Creator of the Universe? What love, indeed!

I kept my eyes closed and listened to nature's song of praise. In the quiet of the moment I heard him whisper, Be still and know that I am God.

I relaxed in the arms of Jesus. My restless spirit ceased its striving. The constant motion of my thoughts submitted to his peace, his calm, even to his authority. For it is in the stillness that our spirit recognizes his supreme authority over all things that concern us and suddenly we realize that it's not who we are or what we are up against. No. It's all about Who is with us and Who has inscribed us on the palm of his hand.

But we must learn to be still. Cease striving. Rest in his lovely presence.


"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth! The Lord of hosts is with us; The God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah" ~ Psalm 46:10-11 
If you hear the Lord's whisper today beckoning you to come and sit with him awhile, will you heed his call? Will you leave the dishes in the sink, dry off your hands and run to him? Will you turn of Facebook and your phone and focus on Jesus? He will meet you right where you are and he will turn your mourning into dancing, your ashes into beauty and your crazy, busy life into a calm refreshing pool of Living Water.



Nan Jones is an author/speaker who uses the words of her heart to assist fellow Christians in discovering the presence of God in their darkest hour. Her devotional blog, Morning Glory, has become a place of community for Christians to find encouragement in God’s Word and comfort in his Presence. She is thrilled to announce her debut book, The Perils of a Pastor's Wife released June 30, 2015 by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas.

When Nan is not writing, she enjoys leading prayer retreats, bible studies or sharing God’s love as keynote speaker for special events. You may visit Nan at her website or her blog, Morning Glory

Nan has also created a facebook community page, Seeing Beyond The Veil, to provide a place for folks to go and get away from the chaos for a few moments and focus on Jesus through scripture, worship, testimony, and inspirational quotes. For personal communication you may email Nan at nan@jubilantlight.com.

 The Perils of a Pastor's Wife is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.


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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher

When Guilt Overwhelms You

King David’s pride and presumption in ordering a census of Israel caused 70,000 mighty warriors to lose their lives (1 Chr. 21). Paul’s violent persecution of the infant church played a part in Stephen’s death and countless others’ beatings and incarcerations (Acts 9). 

I read both stories recently and wept as I imagined how these men must have felt. I imagined David’s overwhelming feelings of sorrow and guilt. SEVENTY THOUSAND innocent people’s blood on his hands. By today’s standards, a tragedy of this magnitude would wipe out every person in a city the size of Richmond, Virginia. 

Listen to David’s gut wrenching lament: 

"Was it not I who ordered the fighting men to be counted? I am the one who has sinned and done wrong. These are but sheep. What have they done? O LORD my God, let your hand fall upon me and my family, but do not let this plague remain on your people."

And Saul. He wasn't jailing murderers or incarcerating thieves or political prisoners, he was persecuting God’s people. People whose only crime was loving Jesus. People who were praying for those who persecuted them. 

Picture him, consenting to brave Stephen’s death and holding the clothing of the murderers and watching as the stones struck his body until he cried out, “Father, do not lay this sin to their account.” Watching Stephen take his last struggling breath. 

Then, while the blood was still wet on his hands, he “was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord's disciples. He went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem” (Acts 9:1). 

Throughout Paul’s writings we see evidence that he never forgot his sinful past: 

“I persecuted the followers of this Way to their death, arresting both men and women and throwing them into prison” (Acts 22:4). 

“For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Cor. 15:9). 

“For you have heard of my previous way of life in Judaism, how intensely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it” (Gal. 1:13). 

Yet David, a believer who sinned horribly, and Paul, an unbeliever with a heinous past, didn’t allowed their sins to define, defeat, or render them useless for the kingdom of God. They understood the truth of 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sin, (God) is faithful and just to forgive us our sin and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 

They confessed, repented, and accepted God’s cleansing grace. 


Listen to David’s prayer in Psalm 51:1-2: 

“Have mercy on me, O God, 
according to your unfailing love; 
according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. 
Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin." 

And Paul’s humble gratitude in 1 Corinthians 15:10: 

“For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle . . . But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.” 

If you’re struggling with guilt over something you did as an unbeliever, or a sin you’ve committed as a Christian, don’t allow Satan to imprison you in guilt and shame. Do what David and Paul did—confess your sin, forsake it, and accept the forgiveness Christ extends to you from the cross. 

Then walk in the confidence that God has separated your sins as far as the east is from the west, to remember them no more. 

Mercy there was great and grace was free. 
Pardon there was multiplied to me. 
There my burdened soul found liberty
At Calvary.* 


*William Newell’s hymn, “At Calvary.”

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Hungry for God is on Facebook! Will you take a moment and LIKE my page? CLICK HERE to help HFG share 5-minute devotions.


You want to connect with God, but in the craziness of life, it’s just not happening. You want practical, biblical answers to situations you face every day, but you don’t have hours to pore over Scripture.

You need a resource that answers the questions you’re afraid to ask out loud. Questions like:

• Is my situation hopeless?
• If God already knows what he’s going to do, why bother to pray? 
• Why have you allowed this to happen to me? 
• No one appreciates what I do. Why shouldn’t I quit? 

Each devotion begins with a Facetime question and ends with a biblical answer wrapped in a modern day parable. Like a spiritual power bar, Hungry for God … Starving for Time is packed with enough scriptural nutrition to get you through the day. Wherever you are—in break rooms, carpool lines, or wherever you can snatch five minutes of quiet reflection—Hungry for God … Starving for Time, 5-Minute Devotions for Busy Women is for you.


 

 

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

My Grandmother's Hands

My grandmother’s hands never stopped. 

A fiery little Portuguese lady with a big laugh and an even bigger temper, my granny was a piece of work. When something struck her funny, she’d throw her head back, slap her leg, and cackle. She loved sweets, gardening, and crochet. 

My granny adored pastry more than any other food group. She hoped to die with a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of cake in the other. Most of the food she made was overcooked and under seasoned, but her Malasathas, Portuguese fried doughnuts, were out of this world. 

I remember watching her stretch the dough between her fingers until it was flat and thin and drop it into the bubbling oil. My childish attempts usually yielded blobs that would fry up doughy in the middle, but not Granny. Hers were perfect every time. I loved watching her flour-covered hands make this delicious treat for us. 

Granny was also passionate about gardening. So much so that before there was running water on the property she inherited from her father, she’d haul the water her plants needed. She'd fill every available container, load the containers into her wagon, and pull it around the block. One by one, like a parent dolling out allowances, she’d give each of her fledgling plants a drink. 

I remember her clucking her tongue at the "greenhorns" digging dandelions from the sides of the road. Her harvest was much more sophisticated. She planted kale and escarole before kale and escarole were cool. If she were alive today, she’d laugh to see that “field greens” are trendy, expensive, sophisticated items on many restaurant menus. I loved watching her dirt-covered hands make something grow. 


Whenever my granny sat down, which wasn’t often, she’d have a crochet needle in her hand and a ball of yarn at her side. 

She’d put her over-sized reading glasses on the tip of her nose and occasionally glance down at the fuzzy yarn sliding through her fingers, counting stitches under her breath. 

It was her way of redeeming the time, I think. And maybe justifying the soap operas she watched every afternoon. How she kept track of her pattern and her soap operas simultaneously, I’ll never understand. At the end of the hour, every stitch was in place, and she could tell you in graphic detail about the latest romantic scandal. I loved watching her nimble hands create something beautiful. 

It was hard watching her confined to a bed in the nursing home where she spent her last years. I baked her pound cake and spooned ice cream into her mouth to satisfy her sweet tooth. A Christmas amaryllis that always bloomed in February and a dusty philodendron in the corner composed her garden. She continued to crochet, only lap blankets instead of afghans. 

And when the phone rang past midnight, I knew why. 

“I’m on my way,” I told my mom, and cried the 45 miles to the nursing home. Images of Portuguese doughnuts, fledgling plants, and yarn balls superimposed themselves onto the dark interstate before me. 

As is so often the case when the essence of a person has gone and only their shell remains, the figure on the bed bore little resemblance to my granny. I stroked the soft grey hair my mom had tenderly brushed from her face. I touched the parchment paper skin that covered her thin arms. And then I noticed her hands. 

Unchanged in shape and size from my childhood, they were the same hands that had cooked, and planted, and crocheted - hands that had held, and hugged, and laughed for nine decades. 

But they were finally still. 

Like Elisha to Elijah when the fiery chariot came to take the prophet away, I prayed, Lord, give me a double portion of her spirit. Use me to carry on her ministry. 

Give me my grandmother’s hands.  

Today, ten years after her passing, I stretch dough into flat thin rounds and fry it up for my granddaughter. I plant flowers in the yard and eat kale and escarole. I’ve yet to master crochet, but I knit words together into something beautiful. 

These hands that hold, and hug, and laugh, and never stop—they are my grandmother’s hands.







"O God, you have taught me from my youth; And to this day I declare Your wondrous works. Now also when I am old and grayheaded, O God, do not forsake me, Until I declare your strength to this generation, Your power to everyone who is to come." (Psalm 71:17-18)







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Because women need to connect with God in the craziness of life. 

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Hungry for God is on Facebook! Will you take a moment and LIKE my page? CLICK HERE to help HFG share 5-minute devotions.


You want to connect with God, but in the craziness of life, it’s just not happening. You want practical, biblical answers to situations you face every day, but you don’t have hours to pore over Scripture.

You need a resource that answers the questions you’re afraid to ask out loud. Questions like:

• Is my situation hopeless?
• If God already knows what he’s going to do, why bother to pray? 
• Why have you allowed this to happen to me? 
• No one appreciates what I do. Why shouldn’t I quit? 

Each devotion begins with a Facetime question and ends with a biblical answer wrapped in a modern day parable. Like a spiritual power bar, Hungry for God … Starving for Time is packed with enough scriptural nutrition to get you through the day. Wherever you are—in break rooms, carpool lines, or wherever you can snatch five minutes of quiet reflection—Hungry for God … Starving for Time, 5-Minute Devotions for Busy Women is for you.

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