Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 48

September 25, 2016

Enjoy the Journey

 


Rainbow over Smithport October 16, 2015 Rainbow over Smithport, October 16, 2015

Even if you live a long time, don’t take a single day for granted. Take delight in each light-filled hour. – Ecclesiastes 11:8 (The Message)


I once read of a woman who wanted to visit some relatives who lived halfway across the country. Since she didn’t like to fly, she decided to take a train. Besides, she figured, she’d see more of the countryside that way. But when she got to her seat, she fiddled around, arranging her things for comfort and convenience. She was never quite satisfied, and, by the time she got situated, she had reached her destination. She never got to enjoy the trip!


On our life journey, we can become so focused on trying to make little, inconsequential details perfect that we miss the best part—the journey itself. We fail to discover the pleasant surprises—the serendipity moments—God has placed around us each day.


A rainbow is a serendipity moment. One summer morning years ago I roused my three children out of bed to see a rainbow. The sleepyheads didn’t appreciate it then, but I hope they remember, and I hope, now that they’re adults, they allow some serendipity in their lives—and teach their children likewise.


Serendipity is more than spontaneity. It’s finding an unexpected joy—a “fortunate happenstance” or pleasant surprise on your life journey. Detailitis blinds us to serendipity.


Or maybe we just get too busy, period, and develop “projectitis.” We become slaves to a list of projects that “just must be done,” and we don’t take time to smell the lilacs, gaze at a rainbow, watch the sunset, dance barefoot in the rain, go on an impromptu picnic, or take a day trip just for fun.


Stopping to appreciate what’s around us isn’t the only way to enjoy life. Don’t just say, “I’ve always wanted to ______” (fill in the blank). Take the time and do it!


Just this past week I listened to a radio host interviewing a man who set out, at the age of 69, to visit each of the 50 states before his seventieth birthday. His visits aren’t just drive through or stop and take a few pictures, either. He plans an adventure in each state—a bike ride, a hike—something physically challenging. He has four states left, one of which is Colorado, where he plans a skiing adventure.


My writing colleague and friend Karen O’Connor, a senior who writes for seniors, is currently on a two-week tour of the national parks in the western states. “This trip has been on my bucket list,” she said. “Now it’s time to pull it out of the bucket.”


Don’t let detailitis blind you to the beauty of the world around you or projectitis snuff out your dreams. Give in to serendipity moments. Pull something out of your bucket.


Remember that happiness is not a destination—it’s the journey itself.


However many years I have, Lord, help me to enjoy them all (Ecclesiastes 11:8 NIV). Open my eyes to the pleasant surprises in this day, and give me the courage to take time to pursue those dreams You’ve placed in my heart. Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Luke 10:38–42


1276884_10201492829315470_359539492_o Dean and me on top of Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park, Maine, September 2013 (on our 40th wedding anniversary camping trip)
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Published on September 25, 2016 02:00

September 18, 2016

Finding Joy Again

 


20160916_133005


For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” – Isaiah 55:8–9 NIV


I’d been feeling poorly for nearly a year—stressed, down, tense—living in a gray world. I’d lost my joy and didn’t know how to get it back. I wanted it back. Oh, how I wanted it back.


One day, feeling particularly overwhelmed, I told God, “Everything I’m doing—writing, preaching, teaching the women’s Bible study, the two boards on which I serve—I give it all back to You. I’m taking everything off my plate. You put back what You want on there.”


Now, I’m a believer in open and closed doors. That’s how God directs me. I figured He’d close the doors to what I’m not supposed to be doing. So I kept on keeping on and forgot all about that prayer. Until Monday.


I was canning tomato juice when I remembered.


Perhaps it was because, despite the exhaustion and body aches, I had such joy as I gazed at those filled jars lining the countertop and heard the pop of the lids as they sealed. I hadn’t experienced such a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment in a long time.


I made the connection. And I was aghast.


“Lord, is that why I have no desire to write fiction? Why the joy has gone out of it? Why the passion for it is missing? This is the one thing You didn’t put back on my plate.”


I didn’t expect this! Writing fiction was something I did for me. It was such fun running with the muse. Yet the muse had been AWOL for quite some time.


“Lord,” I prayed, “if this is what You want, help me. Make me willing to be willing.”


I thought of my readers who have told me how much they love my books and all who have encouraged me. And I thought: Am I writing fiction to please them or to please God? And I realized the answer was “them.”


The next day I had peace about it. I sensed the Spirit telling me it’s just for a season. I’m taking a hiatus, not hanging up my fiction writing spurs.


Remember how God led the Israelites through the wilderness to the Promised Land? The cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night—when the cloud/pillar moved, they moved. When it stopped, they stopped.


Perhaps I need a season to heal emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically. They’re all connected. When you’re hurting in one of those areas, the rest are affected.


I’m taking this hiatus one day at a time. I still have the desire to learn the craft of writing fiction and to hone my writing skills. But I’m okay with not writing fiction until the cloud/pillar moves.


When I shared this story with a friend this past week, she asked me, “How did you get peace?”


“God poured it in me,” I said, “at the point of submission.”


God has a plan, and I need to follow His and not mine. His way. His time. That’s the only way to peace and joy.


“Not my will, Lord, but thine be done.”


One day God’s going to nudge me back to that novel I didn’t finish. It will be fun. I will be exhilarating as I joyfully run with the muse again.


Thank You, Lord, for reminding me that Your way is the only way to peace and joy. Amen.


Extra Tea: Read and meditate on Isaiah 55:8–13


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Published on September 18, 2016 02:00

September 11, 2016

Give Me a Map, Not an App!

 


road-atlas


Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. . . . The unfolding of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple. Psalm 119: 105, 130 (NIV)


We weren’t lost. We just couldn’t find our destination.


It wasn’t like we hadn’t been there before. Of course, “before” was close to 25 years ago. And “there” was the Kinzua Bridge, which was once the tallest railroad bridge in the world—until July 2003, when an F1 tornado came roaring through the valley. What was left of the bridge has been transformed into a skywalk, which I wanted to see.


So on our Labor Day weekend camping trip to the Allegheny National Forest, my husband and I planned two day trips—one to the Kinzua Dam and the other to the Kinzua Bridge Skywalk.


We had no problems on Saturday, but Sunday was another story.


We set out, armed with a road atlas, a map of the area, the Google map app on my cellphone, and Dean’s handheld GPS.


And we still got lost.


Well, not lost, but we kept getting turned around. Over and over and over again.


It wasn’t like we hadn’t navigated miles and miles and miles of unknown territory over the many road trips we’ve taken. But this time, it seemed we were driving in a big circle around the area of bridge but somehow couldn’t find the road to the bridge.


We even followed the road signs—you know the brown ones with the name of the state park, an arrow to indicate which way to go, and the number of miles?


Crazy, but Dean thought it was the signs that got us turned around. Because each time we took the turn the sign indicated to Kinzua Bridge State Park, we drove farther away from it, according to the Google Map app.


But then maybe the Google Map app, which depends on a strong satellite signal, wasn’t as accurate as it should have been. The satellite radio station we listen to kept cutting in and out, indicating a temporary loss of signal, which is often the case when traveling through the mountains. Same with the cellphone signal.


We’ve rarely gotten so confused—so turned around—that I, navigator and map reader extraordinaire, became so flummoxed I tossed my hands up in frustration.


“I give up!” I snapped, shutting off the Google Map app.


Which is probably what I should have done in the first place—or not even turned it on. Now that I look back—isn’t hindsight always better than foresight?—I never should have tried to use it at all, with the spotty signal and all. I should have chosen one thing to guide us—my trusty road atlas. It has never let me down.


We never did get to Kinzua Bridge. We’d planned on visiting a couple we know who were camping near Coudersport after we’d gone to the bridge. When I finally figured out where we were, I told Dean, “We might as well forget the bridge and go visit Mark and Anna. We’re already halfway there.”


The same is true in on the journey of life, isn’t it? We often get turned around and lose our way when we use too many guidebooks or apps. One says one thing, another says another. Which one is correct? Which one is accurate?


Give me a map, not an app. And only one—the map of God’s Word—will lead me through the confusion, chaos, and jumble of roads life can become. It’s clear, unchanging, unfailing, steadfast, and authored by the One who created me and the world I’m traveling through.


And, like my trusty atlas, it never has let me down.


What are you using?


Thank you, Father, for giving me Your Word and Your Holy Spirit to guide me through life. Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Psalm 119 (Since this is a long portion of Scripture, you may want to break up the reading into daily sections of 25 verses.)


 


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Published on September 11, 2016 02:00

September 4, 2016

Storm Warning

storm


God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. – Psalm 46:1 (NIV)


As I write this, Hurricane Hermine, now downgraded to a tropical storm, is wreaking havoc across the Southeast, threatening beachgoers who’d hoped to spend the holiday weekend that officially marks the end of summer enjoying the sand and surf. High winds, torrential rains, and flooding, as well as power outages, are impacting not only the Eastern Seaboard, but also farther inland.


Meanwhile, Hurricane Lester threatens Hawaii.


Here in Western Pennsylvania, though, a pleasant weekend with plenty of sunshine and warmth (minus the heat and humidity) is forecast. Hurricanes that travel up the East Coast usually don’t affect us, although there have been times they have, mostly with rain and flooding. Those times, however, are few and far between. Thank heaven.


But we’ve had our share of thunderstorms this summer. The abundance of rain has all but ruined our garden. And then there are the winter storms, which probably make up for the lack of hurricanes.


And we sure get our share of personal storms, don’t we?


None of us want to endure storms that arrive, often unheralded, on our horizons. Storms of illness, accident, financial setback, relationship problems, a rebellious child, a loved one’s death. Storms that arrive and stay around awhile, siphoning our strength and battering our spirits.


Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live a life in which we suffered no pain, no grief, no sorrow? We’d never cry, never have our hearts broken, never hurt, never be disappointed, discouraged, or depressed. There’d be no need for medicine to numb our physical and emotional pain.


But, as a wise friend once told me, “You won’t have heaven until you get there.”


Storms are a part of life. “The years of our life are threescore and ten (70), or even by reason of strength, fourscore (80); yet their span is but toil and trouble” (Psalm 90:10).


While you can’t escape the storms, you can, like the residents of the Southeast, prepare for them. How?


First, by knowing that you are not alone. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1).


Second, by knowing that God hears your cries for help and answers. “But I call to God, and the LORD saves me. Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice” (Psalm 55:16–17).


Third, by knowing that, if you truly love God and are doing your best to follow Him and do what He wants you to do, everything – even the bad times – will work for your good. “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them” (Romans 8:28, emphasis mine).


Fourth, by knowing that with God, you can overcome anything. “If God be for us, who can ever be against us?” (Romans 8:31).


And finally, by knowing that God loves you and nothing can separate you from that love. “I am convinced that nothing can separate us from His love. Death can’t, and life can’t. The angels can’t, and the demons can’t. Our fears for today, our worries about tomorrow, and even the powers of hell can’t keep God’s love away. Whether we are high above the sky or in the deepest ocean, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38–39).


When hurricanes appear on my life’s horizon, Lord, remind me that You are in the midst of the storm. Amen.


Read and meditate on Psalm 46


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Published on September 04, 2016 02:00

August 28, 2016

On His Hands

 


hand med size


See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. Isaiah 49:15­16 (NIV)


When my daughter was in high school, she often came home with inked scribbles covering her hand.


“Jaime,” I asked her one day, “what did you do to your hand?”


She held out her hand for me to see. “Take gym clothes,” read one message. “Call Sharon” read another.


“I write notes to myself on my hand because that way I know I won’t forget,” she explained. “It’s always in front of me.”


I write notes to myself, too, but my method isn’t as efficient as hers. Sticky notes and scraps of paper tend to get lost in the shuffle of everyday living, or I just plain forget to look at them. And I’m too old fashioned to get in the habit of using my use my cellphone for reminders.


Maybe I should consider using Jaime’s method of reminding myself of important things, as I’m getting older and my brain feels like a cluttered room.


It’s a good thing God doesn’t forget us, even though at times we may feel forsaken.


When the Israelites were sent into exile because of their repeated refusal to obey God’s laws, God, through the prophet Isaiah, assured them that He would not forget them: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15 NIV).


Even though at times I may feel that God has forgotten me, I need to remind myself that my faith is not based on my feelings, which change with every passing moment.


Faith is believing that God is with me, even though I can’t see Him, hear Him, or sense His presence. My faith is based on the unchanging Word of God Himself, who says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5 NIV). “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands (Isaiah 49:16 NIV).


Wow!


Remind me, O God, when I’m feeling forsaken and alone, that I am always before You. Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Psalm 139


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Published on August 28, 2016 02:00

August 21, 2016

Sadie’s Story

Sadie, AKA Sadie, AKA “Bitty”

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17 NIV)


When the 11-year-old Chihuahua was dropped off at the crowded animal shelter, she had obvious health problems. Two weeks went by and no one showed interest in adopting her. After all, who’d want an old dog with health issues? So Sadie was scheduled for euthanasia.


Enter one young lady with a heart for the hurting—and with a passion for God’s creatures. When Sarah McKenrick and her fiancé, Jonathan Cherry, visited the shelter, “to give some animals some love,” a volunteer told them the sad story of the Chihuahua.


“She had been with a family for 11 years,” Sarah told me, “and they just dumped her at the shelter. My heart broke, and I couldn’t let her be put down like that. We adopted her.”


While the veterinarian was spaying Sadie, he discovered still another health problem and called Sarah.


“Are you sure you still want to adopt her?” he asked.


“Absolutely!” Sarah said.


With a heart murmur, congestive heart failure, fluid in her lungs, a bad stomach due to hookworms, and “a long list of other issues,” Sadie was given three months to live—“a hospice situation,” Sarah said. “She was 3.25 pounds and terrified.”


That was three years ago.


“Today she is on ZERO medication, the heart murmur is gone, and she’s a chunky 6 pounds!” reports Sarah, who is now Mrs. Jonathan Cherry.


That’s what love can do.


Jonathan and Sarah loving on Bitty (Sadie) Jonathan and Sarah loving on Bitty (Sadie)

In Sarah’s and Jonathan’s love for Sadie, who now responds to the name “Bitty,” I see God’s love for all humanity. God’s love for me. God’s love for you. Each one of you.


It doesn’t matter who you are, what your nationality is, what your beliefs are, what you do for a living, or how old you are. It doesn’t matter that you have “SIN” written all over you. It doesn’t matter if you’ve messed up. Or if you are messed up.


It doesn’t matter if you’re what the world calls “damaged goods.” It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, who’ve you’ve been with, where you are.


Read the Gospels. Over and over you’ll see God’s Son reaching out to the outcasts of society.


The woman at a well in Samaria (John 4:1–26) had three strikes against her: She was a woman—women were not at the top of the social ladder in those days; she was a Samaritan—the Jews hated the Samaritans; and she’d had five husbands and was living with a man who was not her husband.


But she wasn’t out—not by God’s standards.


Neither are you.


Then there was the leper who asked Jesus for healing and Jesus touched him (Matthew 8:1–4; Luke 5:12–14). He touched him! My goodness, you didn’t even breathe the same air as a leper in those times, let alone touch one.


But in God’s eyes he wasn’t untouchable.


Neither are you.


And then there was Levi, the tax collector, whom Jesus called to be one of His 12 apostles (Mark 2:13–17; Luke 5:27–31). A tax collector—a despised traitor in the eyes of the Jews.


But he wasn’t despised by God.


Neither are you.


You may know Levi better by his name as one of Jesus’ disciples—Matthew, which means “gift of the LORD.”


That’s what happens when Jesus comes into your life—it changes, you change—transformed from the inside out. It all starts with the unconditional love of God.


Sadie’s story, you see, is your story.


When I’m feeling down on myself, O Lord, remind me of how very much You love me. Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Romans 8:31–39


Many thanks to Jonathan and Sarah Cherry for giving me permission to share their story and use their photographs.


Sarah and Jonathan Cherry with Bitty (Sadie) Sarah and Jonathan Cherry with Bitty (Sadie)
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Published on August 21, 2016 02:00

August 14, 2016

Misunderstanding

 


Photo courtesy of Ken Banks, kiwanja.net Photo courtesy of Ken Banks, kiwanja.net

Live in harmony with one another. – Romans 12:16 (NIV)


I often complain to my husband of nearly 43 years that I feel more like his personal assistant than his wife. Filling out forms, researching information online, scheduling appointments, and making phone calls add to an already overloaded to-do list. The paperwork is the worst.


“You have no idea of the time it takes,” I grumble. “I have other stuff I have to do, you know.”


But Dean works 11-hour days five days a week then comes home to an evening of more work around the house and property. He doesn’t have time for the plethora of paperwork that comes with living these days, especially when you’re planning retirement.


And filling out forms is not always quick, easy, or simple.


Take, for example, the form I completed for him last week—one of those labeled “EZ.” The directions, which I dutifully read first, said the form “on average will take 30 minutes to complete. This includes the time it will take to read instructions, gather the necessary facts and fill out the form.”


“Yeah, right,” I muttered—and timed myself.


Over an hour later—and I’d had the facts they wanted at my fingertips—I finished, except for one box, which needed a simple “yes” or “no” answer. Dean was to ask a co-worker who’d already gone through the process about it, so I called him. The co-worker told him to call Brenda at the organization. Two phone calls later, I reached Brenda, who gave me the information I needed, and I finished the form. All it needed was Dean’s signature.


Feeling accomplished, I texted Dean with a list of things I’d already done that morning — “all before breakfast,” I boasted.


“Forget the form,” he texted back. “I’ll work ‘til I die.”


What? Where did that come from?


When he came home from work, he apologized for the text and explained why he sent it.


“You listed all these things you did, and I thought you meant you didn’t have time to do one more thing,” he said.


Oh. That was where it came from.


“I’m sorry,” I said. “That wasn’t what I meant, but I can see how you’d take it that way. I do complain about being your personal assistant at times, don’t I?”


We kissed and made up, and I deleted the text. But I can’t delete how those words made him feel on a hot, busy, frustrating day at work. Or how his words made me feel.


It isn’t always easy to forgive and forget. We hold onto hurts, nursing grudges, sometimes about a perceived offense the other person has no clue about. I didn’t understand why Dean was so upset until he explained it to me.


I have to learn to be mindful of what I say in the first place. “I didn’t think” is too frequent an excuse that accompanies my apology. Think and pray first, then speak—or don’t speak.


I’ve also learned how important it is to clear up any misunderstandings right away. Molehills have a way of becoming mountains, if we let them.


Getting along with others, especially those we’re closest to, is like the paperwork I dread doing—it can get complicated and it takes time—but is so worth the effort.


Father, remind me to be “quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry” (James 1:19). Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Romans 12:9–20


 


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Published on August 14, 2016 02:00

August 7, 2016

Aha! Moments

 


Acadia National Park, Maine (Photo by Michele Huey) Acadia National Park, Maine (Photo by Michele Huey)

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Jesus, as quoted in Matthew 11:28 (NIV)


I’d been feeling overwhelmed and down-in-the dumps for quite a while. So last month I escaped for a week to a writers’ conference, where someone else planned and prepared the meals and cleaned up after. There was nothing I had to do but eat, write, and rest (and call my hubby each evening to say goodnight and “I love you”).


Then I came home—and back to reality.


But my trip wasn’t all for naught. One of the things I’d acknowledged while I was away was I hadn’t been taking time to pray, read the Bible, and meditate on it—to be still and listen for God’s voice. No wonder I felt adrift in a sea of too-much-to-do-and-not-enough-time-to-do-it. I’d be off and running, checking off tasks from the day’s list of things to do as soon as my bare feet touched the morning floor.


Jesus said, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). The Amplified version uses the term “overburdened.” That I was—and weary, so very weary.


So the first thing I did when I returned home was to put God back where He belongs and began my day with prayer and Bible reading. I love lists and schedules, but I’ve found a Bible reading schedule with dates doesn’t work for me. I get behind, feel pressured to catch up, then give up.


But while I was away, God reminded me of the Quiet Time Bible gathering dust on my bookshelf. It’s organized with manageable readings and questions to help me ponder what I’ve read. If I miss a day, it’s no big deal because I just pick up where I left off. No catching up.


I forced myself to center down, focus, and read God’s Word slowly and reflectively. I responded to what I read by writing my thoughts and my prayers in my journal. I opened my heart, and out gushed what had been dammed up, what I’d been denying and refusing to see.


God knew all this, of course, but I needed to see it. How can I be so dense and obstinate? I wondered.


I’m learning to be still—rest—and listen for God’s voice in the quiet.


Do I hear Him every time? Not audibly, but His Spirit “eases, relieves, and refreshes” my soul (Matthew 11:28, Amplified).


I ask for guidance for a life-changing decision, and I see glimpses of how He’s leading me (Psalm 23:3). I ask for wisdom, and I recognize things I hadn’t before but were right in front of me (James 1:5).


And, in an “Aha!” moment, I realize I want an “Aha!” moment for all my struggles, all the problems and decisions I bring to my Shepherd. But sometimes—most times—God wants to lead me through a growth process instead.


Are you feeling weary and overburdened? That life is sometimes too much? That your plate is too full?


Don’t wait. Turn to your Shepherd now. Let Him lead you to a place where you’ll find rest, where He’ll refresh your spirit, and you’ll learn to cast all your “stuff” on Him, because He cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).


Remind me, Lord, not to rush headlong into my day, but to take time to fuel up my spirit with You. Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Psalm 23Matthew 11:28–30


 


 


 


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Published on August 07, 2016 02:00

July 31, 2016

A Deep, Dark Place

cave-1149023_640


 


From the LORD comes deliverance. Psalm 3:8 (NIV)


Decades ago, when the kids were still with us, we visited Indian Caverns. While I’d long grown out of my fear of the dark, my heart picked up pace and my breathing quickened as we toured the underground cave. It was dark. It was dank. It was scary, especially when the lights were extinguished so we could “see” and comprehend the deep, utter darkness—a darkness so profound I couldn’t see shapes, forms, or the hand in front of my face.


As I read Psalm 3 for my devotions this morning, I realized the writer, King David, was in a deep, dark place when he penned those words. His own son had betrayed him and usurped the throne. David had to flee for his life.


“How many are my foes!” he lamented. “How many rise up against me!”


I identified with his words. Not because I have foes (except one—see 1 Peter 5:8), but because I have woes. Because there are situations in my life that make me feel I’m “up agin it” with no way out.


You, too?


“How many are my woes!” we lament.



David didn’t wallow in his woes too long, if he wallowed at all. Because only two verses into this psalm, he’s turned the corner. He does this often in his writings—finds himself at the crossroads of Despair and Hope, and he chooses Hope—with one little word: “but” (other versions use “nevertheless”).


I call this “The ‘But’ Factor.” When in despair, factor in hope.


How? Let’s look at Psalm 3.


First, know that God is a shield around you (verse 3). Picture this. Nothing can touch you that doesn’t first go through Him, that He doesn’t allow. Everything that reaches you serves His purposes.


Second, know that when you cry to Him, He will answer (verse 4). Be sure of it. How do I know? Because He says so—right in His Word. He said it. I believe it. That settles it. God always keeps His promises. And because He has answered me in the past.


Third, you don’t have to stay up all night wrestling with worry. God’s got this: “I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me” (verse 5). Repeat this verse to yourself—quietly or aloud before you close your eyes for the night. Use it instead of counting sheep. (Who counts sheep, anyway? More likely we count our woes.)


Don’t let fear take control (v. 6). Over and over God’s Word tells us to “fear not,” “do not be afraid.” Fight that fear with your faith. Don’t have much faith, you say? Remember Peter. How much faith did it take for him to walk on the water? Just enough to take one step. (Actually, just enough to fling one hairy leg over the side of the boat.)


Fourth, pray specifically for deliverance from whatever it is that troubles you (v. 7). God may take away the trouble, smooth it out, provide a way out, or see you through it, giving you the peace and calm assurance that He will never leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).


And finally, know that true deliverance comes from one source, and one source only: the LORD—El Shaddai, Adonai, El Roi (the God who sees), Jehovah Jireh (the LORD will provide).


Are you in a deep, dark place?


Remember, you’re not alone. God is with you.


Your deliverance, beloved child of God, is imminent and sure.


Thank you, Father, that even in the deep, dark places of life, You are there and You provide deliverance. Deliver me today from worry, fear, doubt, uncertainty, and indecision. Bring me into the Light of Your presence and love. Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Psalm 3


OTHER SCRIPTURE TO READ: Psalm 46; John 1:1–5; John 8:12; Revelation 21:23, 25; 22:5


Photos courtesy of pixabay.com; CC0, public domain, no attribution required 


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Published on July 31, 2016 02:00

July 24, 2016

Information Overload

 


Photo by Kate Scofield Photo by Kate Scofield

“Don’t load yourselves up with equipment. Keep it simple.” – Jesus to His disciples, as quoted in Luke 9:3 (The Message)


I often wonder if technology, instead of making life easier and better, has made it more complicated and stressful.


I grew up during the B.T. Age—Before Technology. I didn’t need to know the up-to-the-second weather forecast. Back then we didn’t have instant access to Doppler radar and cell phones and Internet. If we wanted to know what the weather would be, we had our radio, which sat atop the refrigerator, Eleanor Schano and Bob Kudzma of Channel 4 and Channel 2 respectively, and my mother’s hands and feet, which ached when there was weather moving in. Or we simply looked out a window.


Weather forecasts were broadcast every half hour, along with news headlines. The news reports were given on the hour. Local—by local I mean Pittsburgh and Johnstown—TV stations devoted an hour to the news every evening and a half an hour at noon. If disaster struck, regular programming was cancelled to bring us the details as they unfolded.


That part hasn’t changed, but our exposure to and the availability of up-to-the-second worldwide, national, and local news and weather has. I wonder if we haven’t become information junkies. If we haven’t become addicted to being fed (bombarbed would be a better word) so much information and all of it available with a simple click of a mouse.


Life was simpler B.T. We had worries and concerns, yes, but not on the level we do today. We now can know about every dire event that happens worldwide almost the instant it occurs. I don’t know about you, but I believe this has raised my stress level. Life on a personal level is stressful enough, but factor in worldwide crises, and stress levels become unmanageable (no matter how we saw we’re managing quite well, thank you).


Now we have so many channels to choose from, so many devices, so many remote controllers, so much technology to keep us informed and crazy.


There’s no time to lie on your back in the yard, watching the clouds float across the sky. We’re too busy surfing the channels or the ’Net in search of the latest news, the latest game results. Or we’re checking our emails, Facebook or Twitter to get the latest on our friends, while ignoring the friend or loved one in the flesh right in front of us.


I believe we as a society are on information overload. And the result is more stress, more unhappiness—and an addiction for more info.


I’m not saying to can all the technology. It has its benefits. What I’m saying is we need more balance. We need to control the amount of incoming data to a manageable level, rather than allow it to control us.


In my opinion, “manageable level” is “need to know.” Do we really need to know all this stuff?


We carry it with us 24/7. We worry. We fret. We stew. We lose out on happiness in the here and now because carrying around all this unnecessary information is sucking the joy right out of us.


What did Jesus tell His disciples when He sent them out on a mission? And remember, they didn’t even have telephones back then. They had to figure things out on their own because they couldn’t check back in until they returned.


Jesus said, “Don’t load yourselves up. Keep it simple.”


If we followed His advice, imagine how lighter, freer, happier our lives would be!


  I confess, O Lord, that I’ve become an information junkie and often run on overload. Remind me of Jesus’ invitation to come to Him when I’m weary and heavy laden, and He will give me rest, for His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:28–30). Amen.


Extra tea: Read and meditate on Luke 9:1–6


How do you manage technology? Do you think we’ve gone overboard? Leave your  answers in the comment section. Thank you. 


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Published on July 24, 2016 04:00

God, Me, and a Cup of Tea

Michele Huey
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