Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 3

A Piece of the Rock

Anyone who listens to my teaching and obeys me is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. – Matthew 7:24 (NLT)

When my husband woke up one Sunday morning with his left arm numb, our life together suddenly took a different perspective. Especially when the numbness settled in his fingers on both hands and in his right foot. Uncertainty crept into our schedules just as sure as the doctors’ appointments and plethora of medical tests.

Possible causes swirled through my mind. I spent hours online, searching WebMD and other sites, seeking understanding, trying to prepare myself for the worst. 

Would he be able to continue to drive truck? Should we start thinking about another line of work? But then, what can you do when you lose the use of your fingers? Just three months earlier I had quit my full-time job, with its regular, although meager, paycheck. My freelance work was bringing in enough to help pay the bills, but that depended on how much work I contracted and when I received payment. So far, we were able to pay the bills on time. 

I wasn’t worried about the finances, though. I believed that the One who called me into full-time writing was faithful, and I trusted that He would provide for all our needs (1Thessalonians 5:24, Philippians 4:19). I knew that if Dean couldn’t work anymore, then God would send enough work my way that I’d be able to support us both. 

I was more concerned about losing my life’s companion. With the kids gone, we’d gotten closer. I loved the stage of life we were in. Then the dreams of growing old together were suddenly threatened. But I had no real fear, no doubt, no anxiety. I slept well.

I was feeling pretty proud of my spiritual maturity when God dropped a bombshell: “You thought it was a leap of faith when you quit your job and trusted Me to provide. But would you still trust Me if your husband’s paycheck were gone?”

My faith hadn’t really been put to the test when I quit my job. I still had Dean, he still had his job, and the paychecks were still coming in. As long as I had those, faith talk was easy. Take all that away, and would I be able to walk my talk? 

Where can we place our security these days? Certainly not in jobs. In insurance policies?  They don’t prevent misfortune; they only promise to provide for our needs in the event something happens. A good credit rating? Identity theft can shoot that overnight. A healthy bank account, investments? A sudden, catastrophic accident or illness, or an extended stay in a skilled care facility can eat those up quickly. Real estate?  a house? A fire can destroy in a few minutes what we’ve spent a lifetime building. Examples: Louisiana sliding into the Gulf, beach erosion, fire destroying mansions in Malibu.

Where, then, can we find true, rock-solid security? The Bible tells us, over and over: In God and in God alone. “The LORD is my rock,” (Psalms 18:2, 19:4, 92:15; Isaiah 26:4; Deuteronomy 32:4). 

I have a piece of the Rock—do you?

Thank you, Lord, that “I’ve got a piece of the Rock. I’m no longer building on sand. Daily with Jesus I’ll walk, and stand on my piece of the Rock.” Amen.  (From “I’ve Got a Piece of the Rock,” by Sammy Hall)

Read and reflect on Matthew 7:24–27.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3 © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Photo “Big Rock in Forest” public domain

A Little Leaven, A Lotta Heaven

“The kingdom of God is within you.” –Jesus, as quoted in Luke 17:21 NKJV

Friday night at our house is-pizza-and-a-movie night. It began when the youngest left for college, and my husband and I ate out at a local pizzeria. Eventually our date night morphed into dining on frozen pizza at home. After a while frozen pizza lost its appeal, and I rooted around in my recipe box and retrieved my old pizza dough recipe.

Years ago I learned the secret of making good pizza dough. It’s in the kneading. First I dissolve the yeast in warm water. Warm, not hot, because hot will kill the yeast. Then I add the sugar, salt, and oil, mixing it well so the yeast, sugar, and salt dissolve. Then I add about half the flour, mixing it with a wooden spoon until it’s just past the gooey stage.

Then I knead in the rest of the flour by one-half cupfuls—and I don’t pay attention to the recipe! I pay attention to the dough. I’m done adding flour when the dough is just past being sticky, soft like a baby’s behind, and springs back when I lightly indent it with my finger. I rarely use all the flour the recipe calls for.

Now, you’re asking, what does this have to do with the kingdom of heaven? Everything. You see, Jesus spent a lot of time teaching the people about the kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of God, using analogies of things they understood so they would grasp what He was trying to tell them.

“The kingdom of heaven,” He said once, “is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour until it worked all through the dough” (Matthew 13:33 GW). The kingdom of heaven is like yeast.

The older versions use the word “leaven.” Leaven, according to my trusty Webster’s, is “any influence spreading through something and working on it to bring a gradual change.” In bread dough, the leaven causes it to rise and gives it a delectable flavor. Ever eat bread that failed to rise? It’s useless, isn’t it? Fit only for the trashcan.

In this world, the leaven is the kingdom of heaven, or the rule of God over all who accept and submit to Him (see John 3:3,5). In each believer, the leaven is the words of the Master, found in Scripture, that gradually spread through our minds and hearts, transforming us, transforming our lives, ever so gradually.

First, though, the leaven must be added carefully then worked through the dough of our lives. Just like bread dough, the secret is in the kneading. Ever knead dough? It takes time and patience—and just the right touch—not too heavy and not too light.

God is the one who kneads His Word through our lives. If you’re dough being kneaded, though, it doesn’t feel too good to be twisted and turned and folded and pushed and pulled. But the Master knows what He’s doing. He’s not following a recipe because we are individual lumps, each needing a different touch, a different amount of flour to be added, and a different amount of kneading time. The Master works us until we’re pliable, soft, resilient—not too sticky or gooey and not too dry or tough. Then He sets us aside for a while for the leaven to do its work.

But we’re still not ready. Like bread dough, we must be punched down, worked again, shaped, and left alone, covered with a soft cloth, so that the leaven can finish its work. It’s a long process.

Child of God, are you being kneaded? Don’t despair. Just remember—a little bit of leaven, worked just right into the dough of your soul, means a whole a lot of heaven.

Dear God, thank You for kneading me in the way I need to be kneaded. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 13:33 and Luke 17:20–21.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3 © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission. Photo courtesy of ABSFreePic.com.

Spout and Pout

            The fruit of the Spirit is . . . self-control. – Galatians 5:22–23 (NIV)

At the beginning of every year, I write out my goals for the coming year. One January, I noticed that “lose weight,” “manage time better” and “get out of debt” were three recurring ones, going back years and years and years—and ones on which I’d made little, if any progress.

“Hmmm,” I thought in a moment of brilliant self-revelation, “Looks like I have a little problem with self-control.”

I’d lost and gained the same 15 pounds several times. 

Time management is almost as difficult. One of my weekly goals was “be more realistic in setting goals.” 

As far as the finances, well, we all know how impossible it seems to get out of the hole once you’re in. 

But I’d been making progress—slow, but inching ahead—until I overdrew the checking account. I’d scheduled a credit card payment to be made on the due date, figuring one of my writing checks would cover it. Normally it would have, but the check was late—a week late. And I’d forgotten about the payment.

When I went online to balance the account and noticed the $25 overdraft charge, I was sick—especially when I noticed that it had been deducted within the past hour. 

I was mad. Mad at myself. But madder at God.

“I’ve been trying so hard, Lord,” I complained. “And I’ve been doing so well. How could You do this to me?”

And I’d had such a good attitude earlier that same week when an order for 100 of my books fell through. “Oh, well,” I said at the time. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles.”

Then came the overdraft—and this cookie crumbled.

“It isn’t my fault the check was late,” I whined. “And, in regard to that canceled book order, I didn’t count my chickens before they were hatched. The guy said in the spring he wanted the books. It was only last week that I noticed the money would have nicely taken care of the fall taxes, the heating oil and the car insurance. How could You do this to me?”

I spouted. I pouted. I spouted some more. I still maintained my peace about the book order, but I stewed and spewed about the overdraft. 

It took several days of complaining to the Almighty that it wasn’t my fault, I had no control over when the check came in, but He did. Yada, yada, yada. 

Sometime during one of my non-spewing moments, it occurred to me that if I’d put some money aside as a cushion, to cover the payment should a check come late, instead of living from paycheck to paycheck, I’d have avoided the overdraft.

OK, so I knew that all long. I just wouldn’t admit it.

I began to squirrel away a little bit every payday in a “cushion fund.”

Live and learn. Even when you’re in your mid-fifties.

Several of my columns that year covered the Fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, meekness and faith. But I struggled with the last one—self control.

Sigh. I still do. 

Dear God, I tend to forget that everything You allow in my life has a purpose. Thank You for reminding me. Amen.

Read and reflect on Galatians 5:22–23 and Psalm 40.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3, © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

A Soft Answer

            The fruit of the Spirit  . . . is gentleness. – Galatians 5:22, 23 (NIV)

            A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. – Proverbs 15:1 (NIV)

            Let your gentleness be evident to all. – Philippians 4:5 (NIV)

            “I hate you!” screamed my friend’s little boy as she held him, squirming and kicking, in her lap and struggled to put sneakers on his busy feet. It was time to go, and the toddler didn’t want the visit to end.

            “Well,” she answered gently, tying his shoelaces and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, “I love you.”

            I was amazed. If that were me, I would have turned him over my knee and spanked his little wriggling behind but good. 

            As a grandmother, I’m much gentler than I was as a mother, and in everyday life, I find I’m holding my tongue better than I used to—except when I’m behind the wheel of my vehicle or when I was at one of my son’s baseball games.

            Every driver who doesn’t use turn signals, passes in a no passing zone, tailgates me, slows me down by driving below the speed limit or neglects to turn on the headlights when it’s hard to see because of rain, snow, fog or dusk, is, in my opinion, an idiot. While I don’t succumb to road rage, my mouth goes a mile a minute and the words are none too gentle. Which is why I don’t have one of those “Honk if you love Jesus” bumper stickers on my vehicle. 

            And at baseball games, it was hard to respond in a gentle manner when the umpire made an obviously bad call that went against the team I was rooting for, especially in a close game where one call can change the momentum of the whole game. Before one series, I promised God I’d behave and keep my mouth shut. But when the home plate umpire called one of our runners out at second after the base umpire had called him safe—and from my vantage point in the stands behind the plate, he was safe—I yelled that he was making it hard for me to keep my promise. 

            At that point my husband turned to me. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or amused.

            “Behave yourself,” he said, nodding to the seat in front of us, where our grandson Brent, who was just starting Little League, was booing. “You’re not setting a good example.”

            So I kept my mouth shut and only groaned when the umpire called a homerun a foul ball. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and agreed with my husband that the foul pole needed to be higher. 

            “I hope this guy doesn’t umpire any games for the playoffs,” I couldn’t resist adding.

            I needed to stop and consider what the other parents thought when someone who claims to be a Christian yells at the umpire like I did. Bad calls are part of baseball, from Little League to the professional leagues. While it’s OK to disagree, it’s not OK to be disagreeable and unkind.

            Being gentle means to treat others with kindness, consideration and respect because, no matter who they are, they have value in God’s eyes. Jesus set the example when He embraced the children the disciples tried to shoo away and when He had dinner with despised tax collectors who to the Jews were little more than scumbags, but to Him were hungry souls needing love, mercy and grace.

            Can I do any less?

            Dear God, grow Your gentleness in me. Amen.

            Read and reflect on Ephesians 4:1–3.

            From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3, © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Of Kicks and Crowns

The fruit of the Spirit is . . . faithfulness. ~ Galatians 5:22 (NIV)

Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a little, I will set you over much; enter into the joy of your master.  ~ Matthew 25:21 (RSV)

Work hard and cheerfully at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people. . . .the Master you are serving is Christ. ~ Colossians 3:23, 24 (NLT) 

“I knew I shouldn’t have sent that manuscript evaluation before the guy paid me,” I grumbled to my husband one night at the supper table. “Now I’ll never get paid. What do I get for being nice? A kick in the pants.”

“No,” he said with a knowing smile. “Another jewel in your crown.”

“And what about that book order I sent on good faith that the lady really did just put the check in the mail, like she claimed?” I continued, ignoring his comment. “Twenty-two bucks may not sound like a lot, but we could really use that money now.”

He grinned. “Another jewel in your crown.”

I wasn’t in the mood to hear about jewels in my someday crown. We needed money in our checking account now. My freelance work wasn’t just slow—it had come to a screeching halt. 

I thought of all the books and bookmarks I’d given away, the hours I’d spent—way more than I was paid for—painstakingly editing mediocre manuscripts because I felt each author deserved my best work. I thought of all the work I’d done gratis—articles written, workshops taught, manuscripts edited. I thought of all the recent opportunities for writing, speaking and editing that had fallen through. I thought of the paying job doing something I loved that I gave up because I believed God called me to write full time. And now doors were slamming shut in my face. 

Weren’t you supposed to be rewarded for doing the right thing and being faithful? 

“You know the verse about ‘casting your bread on the waters and after many days, you’ll find it again’?” 

Sensing I was on a roll and nothing he could say would derail me, Dean didn’t even nod. 

“Well,” I continued, “my bread must have gotten water-logged and sunk, or gobbled up by fish and fowl.”

Faithfulness isn’t easy. Especially when you’ve done all the Good Book says to do, and you don’t see the fruit of your labors.

When you’ve trained up your children in the way they should go (Proverbs 22:6), and they choose not to follow it. When you’ve faithfully brought your tithe into the storehouse (Malachi 3:10), but the windows of heaven remain shut tight. When you’re kind, thoughtful and pleasant to people, treating them the way you want to be treated (Matthew 7:12), and they’re snippy, rude and thoughtless in return.

Sometimes I get tired of doing the right thing. Of being the nice guy. Nice guys get taken advantage of. They get ignored, overlooked. They’re overworked and underpaid. And, like me, they sometimes become battle-weary and weak, vulnerable to doubt and despair. 

We can give in or choose to fight the good fight of faith (1 Timothy 6:12), remembering that “He who called us is faithful” (1 Thessalonians 5:24) and will keep His Word (Isaiah 55:11). Even when we’re faithless, God remains faithful because He cannot be false to Himself (2 Timothy 2:13).

These days I find myself repeating the words of Jim Cymbala: “Though in my heart I’ve questioned, even failed to believe, He’s been faithful, faithful to me.” 

How can I be any less?

Dear God, I’ve poured my heart and soul into what You’ve called me to do, but, for all my labor, I see little, if any, fruit. I feel like such a failure. Help me to persist and persevere in the face of disappointment and discouragement and to leave the fruit up to You. Remind me that You have not called me to be successful, but to be faithful. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 25:14–46.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3, © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Goody Two-Shoes–NOT!

            The fruit of the Spirit is . . . goodness. – Galatians 5:22 (NIV)

            He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. – Micah 6:8 (NIV)

            For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God has prepared in advance for us to do. – Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)

            And let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers. – Galatians 6:9–10 (NIV)

            It wasn’t my mistake, but I was the one who’d pay for it.

            When my credit union changed hands, the new company changed the date on which it automatically deducted a $300 loan payment so that the payment would come out two days earlier.

            The problem was they never told me. Never sent me a notice, never called me. Nothing.

            So when I received a notice that they were docking my checking account $50 for two bounced checks, I called.

            “I mailed a check two days before the loan payment was due,” I told them. “It was enough to cover the payment.”

            That’s when they told me about changing the date. Long story short, they added the $50 back in my account. 

I thought that was the end of the matter until I got a bill from the optometrist for $15—the insufficient funds fee from one of the checks my credit union bounced because they took out the loan payment two days early.

I called the optometrist’s office and explained what happened.

“I’m not paying this,” I said firmly. “This wasn’t my fault.”

           You know the spiel. The bank charged them the fee, and they were passing it on to me. 

            I argued with the office manager.

            “Somebody has to pay it,” she insisted. “And we aren’t.”

            “I shouldn’t have to pay for someone else’s mistake,” I muttered to myself after I hung up.

            Then I pictured the Son of God hanging on a cross. He paid for all of our mistakes. All of our rebellion. All of our wrongs. And He never did a thing wrong.

            I called the office manager back and apologized.

            “I get yelled at everyday,” she told me, her voice softening. “It’s not often someone calls back and apologizes.”

            I thought about calling the credit union or the bank involved and arguing my case with them, but decided it would be easier to pay the $15 than to run headfirst into the concrete wall of corporate policy. My blood pressure is high enough.

            “To be good,” reads my Bible dictionary, “is to do what is right. It is to show, by our works, praiseworthy character and moral excellence.”

            I’m no goody two-shoes. I fail every day. I get tired of doing the right thing time and time again, only to get slammed, blindsided, taken advantage of and treated like I’m a nobody. 

            But that’s why God gave me His Holy Spirit—to help me to do that which I know is right, especially when it’s hard to do. 

            And sometimes the right thing is to say, “the buck stops here.”

            Dear God, forgive me for becoming weary in well-doing. Give me the wisdom to know the right thing to do and the strength and courage to do it. Amen.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3, © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Kindness Is

The fruit of the Spirit is . . . kindness. – Galatians 5:22 (NIV)

Be kind to one another. – Ephesians 4:32 (NIV)

“We must be active and earnest in kindness, not merely passive and inoffensive.” – Joy and Strength (p. 7)

In a scene in the movie The Notebook, Allie, who is in the latter stages of Alzheimer’s disease, and Noah, whom she no longer remembers as her husband, are chatting in the extended care facility in which they now reside.

Noah recites a quote from a poem they once shared.

“That’s beautiful,” Allie says. “Did you write it?”

Noah smiles softly and answers, “No. Walt Whitman did.”

Allie looks puzzled for a few seconds, then says thoughtfully, “Walt Whitman. I think I knew him.”

Noah smiles. “I think you did.”

Now, if that were me, I probably would have launched into a mini-literature lesson. The teacher in me—or the parent—or the perfectionist—just can’t squelch the urge to correct mistakes, to set the record straight. 

But Noah doesn’t correct Allie. Setting the record straight isn’t important. Saving her from embarrassment and pain is. Throughout the movie, when Allie asks questions, Noah purposely gives evasive answers. 

“On days like these, when her memory is gone, I am vague in my answers because I’ve hurt my wife unintentionally with careless slips of my tongue,” he explains, “and I’m determined not to let it happen again.”

I’ve done that—hurt other people unintentionally with words and deeds that I thought were helpful. It’s not kind, for example, to correct all the typos and errors I see in the church bulletin. Even if no one else sees me scribbling away. 

It’s not kind to interrupt my husband’s story because he got a couple of details wrong. 

It’s not kind to put my children down in front of others, remind them of past mistakes, make fun of their faults or make them the butt of a joke.

Kindness is being sensitive to someone’s feelings. It’s helping another person to save face, couching the truth in cushions of love.

Kindness is finding something nice to say about your wife’s appearance when the dress she’s wearing does make her look fat. 

Kindness is praising your husband’s attempts at cooking supper and ignoring the overdone meat, the grease splattered three feet in every direction from the stove, and the kitchen that now looks like a disaster area.

Kindness is telling your daughter the floor needed mopped anyway when she puts dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher instead of dishwasher detergent. 

Kindness is not calling your son an idiot after he fills up his gas tank with diesel fuel instead of gasoline. 

Kindness is baking cookies for that colleague who’s meaner than a junkyard dog (Romans 15:7). 

Kindness is saying something nice about someone who’s not saying nice things about you (Proverbs 19:11). 

Kindness is not judging the snippy receptionist in the doctor’s office (Romans 14:13). 

Kindness is encouraging that young mother struggling with busy toddlers in the grocery store (1 Thessalonians 5:11). 

Kindness is praying for your son’s girlfriend even though you think she’s not good enough for him. 

You can argue that Noah’s kindness was born of love. True. 

But, as I thought about kindness, I realized that kindness and love are intertwined. One cannot be divorced from the other. 

Perhaps that’s why the word “fruit” in “the fruit of the Spirit” is singular.

Dear God, show me ways to be kind to others today. Amen.

Read and reflect on the Book of Ruth. 

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3 © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

That’s What Parents Do

We love, because He first loved us. —1 John 4:19 RSV

At first I thought I had a flat tire. I was on my way to Johnstown to take my college-age son to the doctor.  My son had called earlier, asking me what my schedule was for the day.

“I have a list of things to do,” I said. “Why?”

“Never mind,” he mumbled. 

Turns out he needed a ride to the doctor’s office because he couldn’t shake a weeks-long bout with congestion and persistent coughing, and his car was in the repair shop—that is, Dad’s repair shop, with possibly a blown motor. My husband drove to Johnstown two days earlier to bring it home and, hopefully, fix it or get it fixed. At our expense, of course. Most college kids don’t have the money it takes to fix cars. At least, ours didn’t. He barely had enough to keep his jalopy running.

So I put aside my do-list, gathered the makings of homemade chicken soup, stuffed my checkbook in my purse, and headed for Johnstown. That’s what parents do. 

It was on the other side of Northern Cambria that I heard the whoomp-whoomp-whoomp. I pulled over, put on the flashers, and got out. But none of the tires were flat.  When I walked in front of my 11-year-old Explorer, which boasted nearly 164,000 miles, I heard what sounded like little stones hitting the inside of the hood. I checked the gauges—all were showing normal readings. The noise soon stopped, and after checking the gauges again and listening to the engine, which sounded like it always does, I went on my way. 

That evening with half a tank of gas less than I had before my unexpected trip and fifty-seven dollars more on my credit card (for medicine—that’s what parents do), I arrived home. My husband popped the hood and examined the engine.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the belt that ran the engine and just about everything else. 

It was split in half—but lengthwise, so that although half the belt was twisted up and useless, the other half still held, running the engine and getting me home safely. 

“You ran on prayer,” he said, scratching his head. “I don’t know how that held.” 

Or how the broken half didn’t twist around the motor, stopping everything, I thought. Then I grinned. 

“My Father,” I said, the warm fuzzy reaching from my heart to my lips, “takes good care of me.”

You see, that’s what parents do.

Dear God, thank You for Your awesome love for and care of me. It’s exceedingly abundantly above all I can ask or imagine. Amen.

Read and reflect on 1 John 4:7–21.

From God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3, © 2019, Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Image by prostooleh on Freepik

Hangeth Thou in There

The fruit of the Spirit is . . . patience. – Galatians 5:22 (NIV)

Do not throw away this confident trust in the Lord, no matter what happens. . . . Patient endurance is what you need now, so you will continue to do God’s will. Then you will receive all that he has promised. – Hebrews 10:35–36 (NLT)

“Any time a man takes a stand, there will come a time when he’ll be tested to see how firmly his feet are planted.” – Author unknown

It all began with an email—one of those forwards I usually delete without opening. All my bad luck I can blame on deleting them, because most come with a curse or a guilt trip if I don’t forward it to seven or 10 or a hundred friends within seven minutes. 

But this one I opened and scanned the contents. Then my eyes stopped. “God, deliver the person reading this right now from debt and debt burdens.”

With a son in college and the escalating cost of living, it was getting harder and harder to keep our heads above water. 

The Sunday after I received the email (OK, I forwarded it to seven people, including the person who sent it to me—may the gods of cyberspace be appeased), I noticed in the church bulletin an announcement about a workshop for managing finances. “Get control of your finances. Get out of debt.” I read. 

“We’re going,” I told my husband.

After the workshop, we resolved to commit ourselves to getting our finances under control. And we started praying together every morning at 5:30 a.m. before Dean left for work.

At first things seemed to be going smoothly. Two unexpected checks came in that month to help the income meet the outgo. We came up with numerous, creative ways to tighten our belts, streamline and simplify (22 at last count). 

Then our son’s car—the one Dean worked on all summer and into which we’d poured hundreds of dollars—broke down. It was like a giant hand was pushing us back under water. For two weeks, Dean tinkered with it, trying to figure out what the problem was. Then he turned it over to an engine repair shop that’s had it for two weeks and still can’t find the problem.

Meanwhile, we’re asking ourselves, “What’s this going to cost?” 

My freelance income had all but dried up. 

The more I prayed, the more I heard God telling me, over and over and over: Be still. Wait. Be patient.

Waiting is not one of my strong points, and patience is not a virtue I possess in abundance.

But everywhere I turned there it was: on the screen at church as we sang worship songs, on a bowl on a friend’s coffee table, in my devotional readings—Be still. Wait. Be patient. 

My journal pages were filling up with Scripture that jumped out at me and insights that pierced my mind like a well-aimed arrow. On Feb. 27 I wrote:

“I want this time to be over quickly, learn the lesson and move on to better things, out of the hole of debt. But God is doing a greater work in us.

“Our marriage relationship is becoming stronger. We’ve become closer as we discuss things and as we pray together every morning. We try to help each other out of the funk we get in when we focus on the mountain and not on the God who’s bigger than the mountain. We’re seeing more of what we have, than what we don’t have, what we truly need and what we could do without. And God is strengthening the ‘do-without’ so we don’t miss what we’ve eliminated. He’s showing us where we’re weak and helping us to overcome those weaknesses. 

“We’re on the road to a better, stronger, more satisfying marriage; a simple, more satisfying lifestyle and a closer walk with God as we learn to depend on Him and trust Him more and more.

“This process takes time. I should not rush it. God knows what He’s doing.”

Dear God, help me to hang in there. Remind me that what You have in store for us will be worth the wait. Amen.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3 © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Games People Play

Fourth in the series Fruit of the Spirit

            The fruit of the Spirit is . . . peace. – Galatians 5:22 (NIV)

            Do everything possible on your part to live in peace with everybody. – Romans 12:18 (TEV)

            Make every effort to live in peace with all men. – Hebrews 12:14 (NIV)

            Karen and Paulette were fighting again. Our third grade class was split in two.

            “Whose side are you on?” one classmate would ask the other. 

            Never mind that the two best friends would soon make up and put the spat behind them, leaving the rest of us in social turmoil, everyone mad at everyone who wasn’t on her side. 

            Everyone, that is, except Thomas.

            “I’m on my own side,” he answered confidently when I asked him. 

            Good for Thomas for not choosing sides and staying out of it. He probably had—and kept—the most friends. 

Why did I have to choose a side, anyway? Because it was the thing to do? Because I felt pressured by my peers? Because if I didn’t choose a side, I’d be left out? At least if I chose a side, I’d have some friends. 

At that age, I thought the silliness of taking sides was a kid-thing, that we’d outgrow it and, as adults, be able to get along with one another.

Ha! It doesn’t get any better, does it? From office squabbles to church splits to road rage to family feuds, discord abounds in the world around us. Will it ever end? 

A more important question, though, is, where does it start? (Once you can answer where it starts, you have the answer to how it can end.)

It starts, not with conflict between two people, but in the heart. When the twins of selfishness and pride reign, one-upmanship defines all your relationships. You have to tell the better story, own the nicer home, drive the more expensive car, have the last word, inflict the final blow. 

It never ends, though, does it? It just goes on and on and on, until one person says, “I’ve had enough.”

It takes two to tangle. All it takes for peace is for one person to refuse to take part in these dangerous games people play. 

Look at the story of King Saul and David, the shepherd boy anointed to be the next king. With all his kingly resources, Saul relentlessly pursued David to kill him, but David, even when he had an opportunity to gain the upper hand, refused to retaliate. It wasn’t David who suffered from a troubled spirit (1 Samuel 16:14).

How can we obtain the inner peace that spills over into outer peace? 

First, make peace with God, the giver of peace (Romans 5:1), through His Son, Jesus Christ. Remember the peace that He gives is deep and lasting, unaffected by worldly troubles (John 14:27).

Second, learn to trust God with every aspect of your life, banishing anxiety by telling God about your needs (Philippians 4:6–7, 19; Matthew 6:8, 25–33), knowing that His way is always the best way (Isaiah 55:8–9).

Third, train your mind so that your thoughts are on God, for He will “keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on” Him (Isaiah 26:3). Remember the Maker of the mountain is bigger than the mountain.

Fourth, make a conscious effort to “let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts” (Colossians 3:15) by refusing to play the one-upmanship game, to retaliate when someone hurts you (Matthew 5:38–48). Don’t allow bitterness to take root in your heart and mind, where it will grow and poison you and your relationships with others (Hebrews 12:14). “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, and every kind of malice” (Ephesians 4:31). Don’t play the payback game (Romans 12:14–21).

Instead, “be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as God, in Christ, has forgiven you” (Ephesians 4:32), and overcoming bad with good.

Peace is a choice. 

What’s yours?

Dear God, in a time when world peace is humanly impossible, remind me that true peace begins with me—and You. Amen.

Read and reflect on 1 Samuel 24; Colossians 3:12–15.

From God, Me, and a Cup of Tea Vol. 3, © 2019. All rights reserved, Used with permission.