Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 10

The Ending Is Sure

“These words are trustworthy and true.” – Revelation 22:6 NIV

My friend George Caylor and his wife, JoAnne, once met the late actor Charlton Heston when he visited Lynchburg, Va., where they live. Now George is not one to pass up an opportunity to meet someone like Heston, whose career included lead roles in such movies as The Ten Commandments, El Cid, and Ben Hur, for which he won an Academy Award in 1959.

Heston regaled them with the story of filming the famous chariot race in Ben Hur. Refusing to use a double for the scene, the actor had practiced for months. He was trying desperately to win the race when Director William Wyler drew him aside.

“Chuck,” he said, “the plot has been written! You win! Just stay on the chariot!”

What a reminder for believers!

We, too, often feel as though we’re running a desperate race—and losing.

Jostled about, thrown from one side to the other, bouncing every which way, we try to stay on our feet and maintain control. We take our eyes off the finish line to see what the enemy is up to.

And we do have an enemy—an unseen adversary who does whatever he can to trip us up, sidetrack us, get us to doubt our faith. If we abandon that faith, he’s won.

Have no doubt: This enemy is real, and he means business.

“For we are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood,” Paul wrote the Ephesian believers, “but against persons without bodies—the evil rulers of the unseen world, those mighty satanic beings and great evil princes of darkness who rule this world; and against huge numbers of wicked spirits in the spirit world” (Ephesians 6:12 LB).

Indeed, our adversary prowls around like an insatiable lion, looking for his next meal (1 Peter 5:8). One of his favorite strategies is to get you to take your eyes off the finish line and look in the rearview mirror—at your past. Your sin. Your guilt. Your shame. “How could God ever forgive me for what I’ve done?” you wonder.

Don’t fall for that trick. Your sin, guilt, and shame have been washed away forever by the blood of Jesus. As the saying goes, “When Satan reminds you of your past, remind him of his future.”

The race may be fierce, but the outcome is certain: You win; the devil loses (Revelation 20:10). If you’re a believer in Jesus (see 1 John 5:11–12), your victory was sealed over 2,000 years ago on a hill outside Jerusalem by none other than God’s own Son.

So if you’re being tossed about in this race called life and it seems as though you’re losing, remember: The plot has already been written! The ending is sure! You win!

All you have to do is stay on the chariot.

When doubt steps up in my life chariot and I try to take over the reins, remind me, Lord, that You are in control. My victory is certain, for You won it for me on Calvary. Help me to keep my eyes fixed on the finish line. Amen.

Read and reflect: Revelation 19­­–22

 From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God  ©2017

My Little Flock

If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad. —  1 Corinthians 12:26 NLT

I call them “my little flock.” 

They are a small group of believers, numbering at most twenty-five, who comprise a local congregation who look to me as their pastor.

I said I wasn’t. “I’m a Christian speaker and writer,” I insisted. 

My qualifications do not include training in ministry. I’m not ordained, not certified as a lay speaker or lay minister.

I just love them.

And I love delving into Scripture, preparing a message for Sunday’s sermon, and then delivering it to them. I so want to see them grow in their faith—to increasingly know, love, and serve the God I know, love, and serve (2 Peter 3:18). I want to help them not only grow, but also experience the joy of their faith (Philippians 1:25 NLT). 

My husband, who sits in the back pew, times my sermons and waves his cell phone when it’s time to begin winding down, told me I’m a pulpit pounder. I didn’t believe him until one Sunday I found myself pounding the pulpit. 

I was first called to fill their pulpit ten years ago when they’d begun to search for a fulltime pastor. The quest took a year and a half, during which time I fell in love with them. Then, after another year and a half, I was called again to fill the pulpit when they lost their pastor. After all, how can a church of twenty-five faithful members support a fulltime pastor with benefits?

So I said yes, I’ll prepare weekly worship services, “but I’m not a pastor.”

I look out over the congregation on Sunday mornings, and I see my little, hurting flock. Some have undergone recent cataract and back surgery. Some are waiting for surgery or treatment. One dear lady was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, another woman deals with her ailments day-by-day, moment by moment. There isn’t much doctors can do about her condition. Still others grapple with long-term illnesses and caregiving. 

And then there’s grief.  I conducted my second funeral service in as many months that first year. 

I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect the sorrow I felt.

I thought all I had to do was prepare Sunday services and occasionally make hospital visits. I didn’t expect all they are dealing with. I feel overwhelmed at times by their pain, and I don’t know how to ease it.

Except love them. And pray for them.

Perhaps the life-pain was there before, and I just didn’t see it. 

Maybe as my heart has opened more and more, so have my eyes. 

For when they hurt, I hurt.

They are my little flock, and I love them.

And maybe that’s what being a pastor is all about.

Dear God, I feel so inadequate to shepherd these wonderful people, to apply Your salve to their life-wounds. Remind me to empty myself of me and to let You minister to them through me. Remind me You are the balm to their pain, and You are the light in the darkness of difficult times, Your promises are what give hope when the situation seems hopeless. Remind me You are their true Shepherd. Shepherd them through me. Amen.

Read and reflect on 1 Corinthians 12:12–27.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

The Listmaker

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O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You, my body longs for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.  – Psalm 63:1

Whenever my daughter, Jaime, and her family drove from South Carolina for an extended family visit, this mama and grandma got in gear weeks before, making my all-important lists: housecleaning lists, grocery lists, lists of deadlines and other writing-related work that needed to be completed before and during her stay. 

My plan was to have only one list while she’s here, with only one item: “enjoy the chaos and the fun.” 

In the rush to get everything done, I skipped my daily quiet time. I gulped my morning hot tea as I flit from chore to chore. It was iced tea by the time I finished it. 

But the more I crossed off my lists, the more frenzied I became. Whatever happened to my “slow down, pace myself, and enjoy life” philosophy?

It was gone with an earthquake, wind, and fire of my own making. 

“I miss you, God,” I whispered one morning, ignoring the urge to grab my Bible and my cup of tea and head to the back deck and leave behind the list of devotional readings and prayer lists so it would be just me and God. 

But I couldn’t. 

Lists – do they serve me – or do I serve them?

Jesus was crazy busy too. But the Son of God took time out to go on a mountain or to a quiet place like a garden before the crowds showed up, before the disciples stirred from their beds on the ground, before the world awakened. He took no devotional books with Him, not even a scroll of Scripture. It was just Jesus and God. In communion with each other. Talking and listening. 

Why do I think I need anything more than me when I approach God?

Because I feel naked without my lists. I hide from Him behind my Scripture reading for the day, behind the devotionals written by others, behind the lists of prayer requests. I rush through the readings, checking them off the quiet time list so I can get to that all-important work list. 

I can face the earthquake, the wind, and the fire, but I’m afraid of the whisper. 

But I feel empty. It’s like gulping a cup of tea without taking time to savor its essence and inhale its aroma. Or shoving food in my mouth and swallowing without tasting each unique flavor that begs to be enjoyed. 

My friend Kathy Bolduc takes her Bible, her journal, and her cup of tea to a place where she can be alone and observe God in creation around her. Then she reads a portion of Scripture slowly, savoring every word, meditating on God’s message and how it applies to her. 

If a hectic schedule or fatigue causes her to miss a day, she doesn’t have the stress of a catch-up list. She simply meets with the God who is waiting for her. 

He’s waiting for me, too. 

Give me the courage to shed the lists that I hide behind, Lord. Only then will I hear Your whisper. Amen.

Read and reflect on Psalm 63:1–8; 1 Kings 19:8–13. 

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

The Pressure to Perform

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If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. – John 8:36 (NIV)

I once knew a man who was very active in the church, teaching Sunday school, singing in the choir, and serving on committees. A former music teacher, he often filled in when the choir director was out of town. And when a new Christian school was launched, he donated his time to give instrument lessons and form the fledging musicians into a band.

Arden was a man I looked up to, but not because he was so involved and had such a dynamic personality. He challenged me to think, to dig deep and analyze why I believe what I do. He didn’t offer pat answers to the questions of life or spout Christian clichés and platitudes that miss the mark and don’t satisfy.

And he loved God. He didn’t have to say it, you just knew it from how he lived his life. Nearly every time I saw him, he exuded energy and was bursting with joy.

Then one year we almost lost him. Doctors determined his heart was weak and, without a transplant, there was nothing that could be done. So Arden spent many months at home, resting.

I missed him. I missed his energy, his ever-present smile, his outspokenness, his way of getting me to think and not accept things just because someone said so.

But God worked a miracle because Arden eventually returned to church and was able to do much more than doctors had predicted. I asked him when he returned if the recuperation time at home was difficult for him.

“Weren’t you just itching to be busy?” I asked.

“No,” he answered. “I could truly relax because there wasn’t any pressure to perform.”

The pressure to perform. Arden passed away several years ago, but I never forgot that statement. I use it to gauge my motivation for doing what I do: Do I teach Sunday school because it’s expected of me or because I love to teach, I love God and His Word, and instructing others fills me with satisfaction and joy? Do I write a weekly column, produce a daily radio program, and speak to groups to feed my ego and glorify myself? Or because it’s a way of telling others about the God I love? And because I believe teaching, writing, and speaking are callings from God?

Do I go to church every Sunday because it’s expected of me or because I want to worship God with other believers? Why do I try to set aside a quiet time everyday? Because that’s what was told I should do or because I hunger and thirst after God?

The list goes on. Sometimes the introspection reveals that instead of seeking after God, cultivating a relationship with Him and serving Him out of love, I’m merely playing at religion.

God’s Son died to give us freedom – freedom from sin and from the shackles of religion, from the pressure to perform.

He longs for a growing relationship with us. We cultivate this relationship, first, by seeking Him, then by serving Him.

“You will seek Me and find me when you seek Me with all of your heart,” He tells us (Jeremiah 29:13). We seek Him when we talk to Him (prayer); when we read, study, and think about His Words to us (the Bible) – and it doesn’t have to be a read-the-Bible-through-in-one-year thing; and when we are still before Him, listening in the quiet for His voice.

Then, we serve Him by serving others, using the talents He’s given us to reach out to a hurting world.

Don’t succumb to the pressure to perform. Seek a personal relationship with God first, then serve others with a heart full of love overflowing – just like Arden.

Help me, Lord, to truly put You first in my life. Free me from the shackles of empty religion to grow a loving, fulfilling relationship with You. Amen.

Read and meditate on Galatians 5

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

The Lost Hearing Aid

In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents. – Jesus, as quoted in Luke 15:10 (NIV)

I couldn’t find my hearing aid. And for once, I was about to get out the door on time. But when I reached into the black pouch where I keep the device when I’m not wearing it, it wasn’t there.

I checked all the places I could have put it down: the breakfast bar, the vanity top in the bathroom, the mirrored tray in the bedroom, the lamp table beside the love seat where I sit in the evenings. I emptied my purse. I checked the pockets of the jeans and jacket I wore Monday evening, when I’d last used it. Nothing.

Panic set in. Not only did I have a haircut appointment, but I also had half a dozen errands to run, errands that entailed talking with people.

“I can’t go without my hearing aid,” I muttered, emptying my purse for the second time. “I won’t hear anything anyone says to me today.”

Not being able to hear was only one aspect of my concern. The other was that the hearing aid would be expensive to replace. But what could I do? I’d already scoured the house. I’d just have to explain to everyone what happened, ask them to speak louder – and to pray. 

When I returned home later in the afternoon, I had less than an hour before I had to leave for town again to help set up for Saturday’s Punxsutawney Christian Women’s Conference. I popped a pizza in the oven for supper, put away the groceries and searched the house again. 

For some reason, all day I’d been thinking about a bag of garbage I took out to the shed on Tuesday. I had a feeling burning the garbage was on Dean’s do-list for the evening, so I lugged the bag to the back deck and began emptying it, one yucky item at a time. Only six relatively clean objects later, I found the missing hearing aid.

Hallelujah!

I brushed off hazelnut coffee grounds, rinsed the ear mold, plugged it in my ear, and turned it on. After being in the garbage bag for three days, it worked just fine! I must have put it on the breakfast bar Monday night, when I’d come home exhausted, and forgot about it. Dean came home the next day after work and dropped the mail where he usually does – on the breakfast bar, where the hearing aid lay. Apparently it got mixed in with the junk mail that I tossed in the garbage.

Everyone I met Thursday evening got the story of the lost-and-found hearing aid. I wanted to share my joy.

So it was in heaven the day I decided to follow Jesus. I, too, had been lost, buried in the trash of life and headed for the burn pile. But God removed the junk that covered me and cleaned me so I could do what I was created to do and fulfill His purpose for me.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound!”

Lord, I pray there’s rejoicing in heaven right now because the lost are being found. Show me what I can do to keep the rejoicing going strong. Amen.

Read and reflect on Luke 15.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. 

Image by shatishira from Pixabay

The Potter and Me

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But who are you, a man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me thus?” Has the potter no right over the clay?—Romans 9:20-21(RSV)

I once saw a pottery-making demonstration. I watched, fascinated, while the potter’s deft fingers formed a pitcher from a lump of ugly brown clay.

“Have you ever encountered stubborn clay?” I asked her afterwards. “You know, when the clay won’t let you do what you want to do with it?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding vigorously. “When the clay is too wet or when it’s too dry.”

When the clay is too wet, she explained, it just flops around. The solution is to place it on a porous surface, such as concrete, and let the excess water drain out. Clay that’s too dry, she went on, is too stiff and cracks. Adding water and letting it permeate the clay should solve the problem.

Either way, the potter has to wait until the clay is ready and the texture is just right before she can begin to fashion it into the vessel she envisions.

“Have you ever had clay so stubborn that, no matter what you did, it still did what it wanted to do?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said, selecting a rectangular, concave dish, greenish gray in color, from the display and holding it out for me to see. Raised designs in the shallow bowl adorned the center.

She had intended to make a vase, but the clay wouldn’t rise up into the walls. So, not wanting to waste the clay, she fashioned the stubborn lump into the dish she now held before me.

I bought it. To remind me of my own stubborn self. To remind me that God has to knead me into the right texture before He can begin to fashion me into the vessel He has planned.

I am clay that is too wet when I feel defeated and discouraged. When I’m tired of fighting to move forward and I just don’t want to take another step. When I feel dwarfed by someone else’s accomplishments. When I think all my effort is for nothing. Or when I feel unappreciated and used and taken for granted and invisible. So I kind of flop down and don’t do anything.

I’m clay that’s too dry when I’m stiff-necked and refuse to obey, even when God’s will is clear. After all, His way may not lead to Blessings Highway, Happiness Lane, or Prosperity Road. So I resist. But the pain, disappointment, and heartbreak will mold me into what He wants me to be. But I don’t want any more pain, disappointment, and heartbreak. I’ve taken all I can stand.

“What disturbs us in this world,” Alexander Maclaren wrote more than one hundred years ago, “is not ‘trouble,’ but our opposition to trouble. The true source of all that frets and irritates, and wears away our lives, is not in external things, but in the resistance of our wills to the will of God expressed in external things.” (Joy and Strength, compiled by Mary Wilder Tileston © 1929)

If I continue in my stubbornness, God will still find a use for me, although it will not be what He originally intended. I don’t want that. I want His number one plan for me – because that’s His best.

So I’ll keep my clay dish in a place where I’ll see it everyday – so it can remind me that, as I am kneaded into the right texture and thrown onto the wheel of life, the hand of the Potter is shaping me into the vessel He has planned.

When I get impatient or discouraged, Lord, remind me that making a vessel is a multi-step process that requires time – and my cooperation. Amen.

Read and meditate on Jeremiah 18:1–6

(c) 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

The Measure of a Life

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Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. – Philippians 2:4 NIV

Every spring they amaze me—these plants that come up in our garden on their own. They sprout from seeds left over from last year’s discarded tomatoes, squash or pumpkin, or a missed spud. One spring a nice, straight row of onions pushed through the yet untilled ground. The garden isn’t the only place surprise plants appear. They nudge their way through the hardened soil of my flower pots, too.

These self-sprouting plants are called “volunteers,” and gardeners know they can be hardier and produce better crops than plants intentionally seeded and cultivated.

I’d always thought of volunteers as people who donate their time to a cause they believe in, folks who step to the plate and fill a need and don’t ask for anything in return.

I thought of volunteers one Sunday on the way to church. Every week I’d bemoan the litter alongside the road, and grumble about the thoughtless people who tossed their garbage out the window. I was often tempted to take a day and pick up the trash myself. But I never did. 

Then one Sunday bags filled with litter lined the road, thanks to the volunteers who adopted this section of highway to keep it clean. I felt ashamed. Why don’t I join a group? I chided myself. Or grab a trash bag and a pair of disposable gloves, pick a section of road, and just go do it? 

It reminded me of the time my former pastor happened upon a man cleaning up a local walking trail on his own. When my pastor commended him for his unselfish spirit, the man said, “Thanks, but I sure could use some help!” So my pastor organized a group from our church and set up a couple of work days to maintain the trail. 

Volunteers. I think of the folks who donate their time to hospitals, personal care homes, local historical societies and libraries . . . (I’m sure you can think of many more.) 

I think of the local fire companies and the men and women who volunteer their time and energy to keep them running. They not only drop what they’re doing at any time of the day or night to fight a fire or respond to an accident, but they also must maintain and update equipment and raise funds. I am in awe of the dedication and commitment of these courageous men and women. 

Volunteers spend their time and talents to make a difference in the community, to better the world around them, without expecting anything in return.

“We seem to think our reward is fame or money,” says a quotation on my bulletin board. “But the true reward is the one you feel inside when somebody touches your heart.”

It’s time for me to put aside the excuses and find some place to volunteer. I don’t have to do it all, just pick one tiny corner of the world where my efforts, even an hour a week, can make someone else’s life a little bit better. 

Like Holocaust survivor and author Corrie ten Boom once said, “The measure of a life, after all, is not its duration, but its donation.”

Remind me, Lord, when I serve others, I serve You. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 25:34–40.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God© 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. 

The Honey-Do List

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And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again. — Philippians 1:6 NLT

 “Oh, no,” I muttered as my bare foot met with a wet floor. The puddle of water seeping from my dishwasher meant only one thing—another job to add to the honey-do list.

I hated to do it, especially after my husband spent all summer working on our son’s car while our son played baseball in Canada. That car job included replacing three control arms, with bushings, and two sets of brakes and rotors; finding and fixing an elusive oil leak; patching an exhaust leak; and, somehow, putting back together a cracked splash guard, which had unexpectedly met with both a curb and a snow bank—then making sure everything was in working order so it would pass inspection. All at our expense, of course. What we don’t do for our kids.

 But some repairs can’t be ignored for long, so I added “check dishwasher leak” to the ever-growing and getting-easier-to-ignore honey-do list, which included two commodes—one that kept running and pumped the well dry if we didn’t jiggle the handle and the other that shut the water off too soon, leaving a practically empty bowl. Then there was the hot water tap in the upstairs bathroom—my bathroom—that I kept turned off at the valve because the drip evolved into a slow run.

I’ve learned not to complain or nag, not because I’m such an ideal wife but because I know there are other, more important jobs that need done, such as fixing David’s car. I don’t need an outhouse—yet—and I can get warm water from the tub to brush my teeth. No big deal. 

God, too, has a honey-do list for each of His children. I can just see mine: strengthen patience, repair growing leak around mouth, patch cracked shield of faith, replace emotion-brake so she won’t lose control, find and fix trickle of envy.

His honey-do list, like our household list, is never ending. Finish one job and another pops up. Or something that was fixed breaks down again.

Again, I’ve learned not to complain (too much). Not because I’m such an ideal child of God but because I know, little by little, He’s transforming my attitudes, correcting my viewpoints, honing my emotions, and replacing my dreams. 

Such a total transformation from the inside out must be done gradually, with skilled Hands, a loving Heart, and a wise Mind. But when the job is finally completed, we’ll be more than we could ever have imagined—and all that He knows we could be. 

What God won’t do for His children.

Father God, please keep working on me. Amen.

 Read and reflect on 1 Corinthians 5:17.

 From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

A Fine Kettle of Fish

Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.—Psalm 27:14 NIV

Have you ever made a mess of things because of your impatience? You prayed and prayed, and, not getting an answer, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Or maybe it wasn’t impatience that got you into trouble, but a lack of faith, a failure to trust God, to believe that He’s got it under control, that He will really keep His promises.

You’re in good company.

Abraham, one of the Bible heroes whose amazing faith is recorded in both the Old and New Testaments, got himself into a mess on more than one occasion by taking matters into his own hands, running ahead of God, and demonstrating a serious lack of faith.

Remember when Sarah, his barren wife, talked him into sleeping with her maid Hagar so she could have a child by her? That was a fine kettle of fish. First when Hagar did indeed get pregnant by Abraham, Sarah complained that Hagar now regarded her with contempt. So Hagar was sent away, only to be rescued by El Roi—“The God Who Sees Me”—and sent back to Sarah (Genesis 16:13).

Fourteen years later Hagar was sent away again, this time with Ishmael, the son she’d borne Abraham. Once again, God rescued her in the desert, promising her that Ishmael “would become a great nation” (Genesis 21:18).

All because Abraham and Sarah couldn’t wait on God, who’d promised a son to the childless couple, who were well past parenting age. 

Then there was “The Lie”—a half-truth, really. You know what I always say: A half-truth equals a whole lie. What was the lie Abraham told? That Sarah was his sister. Well, technically she was. They shared the same father but not the same mother. Back then it was okay to marry your half-sister.

Why didn’t he want to reveal that she was his wife? Because she was beautiful, and there was a distinct possibility when they travelled through foreign territory, where the kings saw beautiful women and took them for themselves, Abraham would be killed so the local ruler could add Sarah to his harem. So Abraham said Sarah was his sister.

Not a total lie. But not the whole truth, either. He conveniently left out the part that she was his wife to save his own skin. And worse, he told her to lie, too. “This is how you can show your love to me,” he told her. “Wherever we go, say that I am your brother” (Genesis 20:13).

As a result, Sarah was taken into the king’s harem on two occasions (Genesis 12:14–20; Genesis 20). Both times God intervened and brought her out unscathed. 

So you see the great man of faith, Abraham, had his character flaws, too. He was, after all, human like the rest of us. And God’s Word doesn’t paint these heroes of faith as perfect. Instead, we see them warts and all so we can learn something from their mistakes.

What do I learn from Abraham’s messes?

That God is faithful. He doesn’t cast us off as useless or hopeless because we make the mistake of running ahead of Him, taking matters into our own hands, and making a mess of things. “If we are faithless, He remains faithful [true to His word and His righteous character], for He cannot deny Himself” (1 Timothy 2:13 AMP).

I learn that God is merciful and will save us from ourselves, if only we let Him. But we do have to live with the consequences of our actions. 

I learn that His grace is sufficient and that He won’t leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5) but will walk with us and give us the strength to carry the cross of consequences.

What kettle of fish do you find yourself in?

Why not trust it to the Fisher of Men?

Lord, forgive me when I run ahead of You and muddle things up but good. Help me to listen to You and follow Your plan. Amen.

Read and meditate on Genesis 20–21.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

The Church on the Hill

And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near. — Hebrews 10:25 NLT

 When we moved to the country in 1980, we didn’t need to search far for a church home. A small church, of the same denomination we attended in town, perched on a hill only three miles away in the village of Canoe Ridge. With children ages eleven months and four years, the short distance afforded us the needed time to get everyone ready and still be on time for the service.

It was a simple country church, the kind you see in pictures and paintings: white clapboard siding, double-hung windows, and a spire that reached through the pine trees that surrounded it. The basement Sunday school classrooms were damp, but a dehumidifier, along with the energy of children, chased away the chill. 

We soon found ourselves involved in the life of the congregation—teaching Sunday school, helping with Vacation Bible School and holiday programs, and cleaning the church. Several other couples our age attended, and it wasn’t long before we met in our homes for Bible study, food, fellowship, and just plain fun. We raised our children together, shared our hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, dreams and disappointments. 

A music lover, I volunteered to direct a choir. We sang once a month and practiced after church on Sundays, since we were all there anyway. This was a much better fit for me than supervising the nursery, where I cuddled one child in my lap while two more played kangaroo in the toy box.

The Christmas Eve candlelight service, which we instituted, became the highlight of the year for me. 

We enjoyed carry-in suppers every holiday, with the men serving the women for Mother’s Day. When we first started attending, the dinners were held at a building in Rochester Mills, a few miles from “The Ridge,” as we often called the church. Over time, we dug out a section for a basement kitchen, fellowship room, and food pantry. 

Every summer we drove to Cook Forest for a church picnic, and every fall we bundled up for a hot dog roast and hayride at a nearby lake. We held white elephant sales to raise money. I still remember the retro purse and matching beige patent leather heels that made an appearance every year—disguised, of course. One year the church pianist won the bid then wore them to church the next day! 

Our pastor was a true man of God. I once told him when I looked at him, I saw Jesus. When my mother died in 1986, he and his wife made the two-hour drive to the funeral home. And this was a man who worked a full-time job and shepherded us “part-time.” He didn’t just preach the Word, he lived it. He set the bar, and we were better, truer Christians for it.

Many of the folks have since passed on; the kids are all grown up and have families of their own. But the bond we shared remains, for we were, are, and always will be family. 

So when I hear someone say, “I don’t do church,” I think, “You don’t know what you’re missing!”

 Thank you, Father, for the love we shared and the friendships we forged at the little church on the hill. Amen.

Read and reflect on Acts 2:42–47.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.