Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 6

X-travagant God

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. –Lamentations 3:21–23 RSV

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  – James 1:17 NIV 

 “How much are you spending on me for Christmas?” my husband asked me.

I didn’t want to tell him I’d already ordered everything on his list. His list, by the way, was comprised of dog-eared pages in several Cabela’s catalogs with which we get inundated this time of the year. 

So while DH was out vainly looking for a first day buck, I was online not so vainly spending bucks. I was supposed to spend only a third of what I did—that’s what he said he was spending on me. But trying to pick and choose is too agonizing. It’s a lot easier just to get everything. 

This seems to be our Christmas history—well, mine, anyway, because I’m the one who’s done the Christmas shopping all these years. 

When the kids were little, I tried to get everything on their lists, too. The money was short, but seeing the look on their faces when they opened their presents on Christmas morning was a gift of its own. I wanted to be as extravagant as our budget allowed. 

We have a heavenly Father who wants to be extravagant with His children, too. Only He can afford to lavish every good gift upon us—and He does. Oh, we don’t get everything on our wish list, but He gives us exactly what we need when we need it and in His way. 

Some of His gifts we don’t even think about. Or maybe we don’t even realize we’ve been given them.

Take, for example, His LOVE. It reaches to the heavens (Ps. 36:5), surrounds us (Ps. 32:10), never ceases (Lamentations 3:22), and is the reason He sent His Son to provide the way to heaven for us (John 3:16).

His FAITHFULNESS shields us (Ps. 91:4), “extends to the clouds” (Ps. 36:5) and continues through all generations (Ps. 119:90). 

His unlimited MERCIES—we receive them daily, fresh as the morning dew (Lamentations 3:22–23).

He supplies all our NEEDS, and He doesn’t skimp, either. He provides them “according to His glorious riches” (Philippians 4:19). Wow! All we have to do is ask (Matthew 7:7). 

His GRACE, which is His daily care, strength, guidance, and favor. His grace is all we really need, for what we lack, He provides (2 Corinthians 12:9).

His WISDOM—Once again, all we have to do is ask: “If any of you lacks wisdom he should ask God, who gives generously to all, without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5).

Did you get that? He gives GENEROUSLY TO ALL. 

So go ahead. Make up that wish list—then watch your heavenly Father do what He loves to do—be extravagant with His child.

Forgive me, Father, when I whine and complain that I don’t have enough or I don’t have what I want. Open my eyes to the gifts You shower me with every day. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 7:7–11. 

NOTE: For more examples of God’s extravagance, read about the miracles of the loaves and the fishes and see how many baskets of leftovers were gathered up (Matthew 14:13–21 and 15:32–38). Or the miraculous catches of fish in Luke 5:4–7 and John 21:4–6.

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

W – A Heart of Wisdom

A heart of wisdom

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “W”
 
Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. – Psalm 90:12 NIV
       
If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. – James 1:5 NIV 
        
Henrietta Benson was the wisest person I’ve ever known. 
 
When I met her, I was a young mother with three children, the third a surprise – a big surprise. I was quite upset about it. I was, truth be told, mad at God. 
 
Back then I was still under the illusion that life should go according to what I’d planned, what I’d worked for, what I’d prayed for. But God had things to teach me, and I was at times a reluctant, if not rebellious, learner. Impatience was one of my defining traits—and perfectionism. I was always worried about what others would think or say about me or my family. If my kids did something wrong, somehow it was my fault. 
 
Enter Henrietta Benson: mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother; former teacher in a one-room schoolhouse; farm wife; godly woman. Once Henrietta and her family began attending our little church on Canoe Ridge, I was never the same.
 

Henrietta’s philosophy was that once she met you, you were family. Not only were there church functions, such as carry-in dinners for Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving, and other holidays, there were also picnics and campouts on the hill, part of the farmland she and her husband owned. 
 
So there were plenty of opportunities for me to pour my heart out to her. She’d listen patiently, keeping her eyes and attention on me, never interrupting, with not even a sliver of judgment on her face or in her eyes. There are few folks you can really talk to—to whom you can reveal the pain, the worry, the mistakes, your true feelings, the “stuff” that makes up the real you—the things you hide from the world because you don’t want anyone to think less of you. 

Henrietta never preached. She’d wait until I finished my tirade then, like soothing balm on a seeping wound, dispensed her words of wisdom. They were few, but they were effective. 
 
I can’t remember specifically the words she said—after all, my youngest is using 40. But I can remember how she made me feel—understood, loved and accepted as I was, that I wasn’t hopeless, that God was using these things to change me and make me into the person He planned for me to be. 
 
She taught me more about God and what He is like than any Bible study or sermon ever did. 
 
Looking back on it all now, I realize that oftentimes it wasn’t I who sought her—it was she who drew me out with a “You look stressed today, Michele.”
 
Henrietta has long left this world for her heavenly home, but her godly influence and wisdom live on. You see, now it’s my turn to be a listening ear, give a timely word of wisdom, dispense love unconditionally.
 
It’s my time to pass it forward. 
 
       
Thank you, Father, for Henrietta and her godly wisdom. Grant me the grace, love, and wisdom to be to others what she was to me. Amen.

© 2023 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Read and reflect on Proverbs 2. 

Finding the Thanks

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. – 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18 (NIV)

I stared at the numbers. The “out” figure was significantly higher than the “in.” Paying only a portion was not an option. The bills were to be paid in full, the due dates firm.

“Show me how to do this, Lord,” I whispered, pushing back the worry nudging at my heart.

And He did. It wasn’t the way I’d wanted—taking the money from a meager investment account we had for emergencies. But when God gives the answer, I’ve learned to follow His advice.

It looked as though I was going to be asking His advice more, because that year our budget was hit hard.

We had to replace our 35-year-old water pressure tank, the washer (although it was only 16 years old), and my husband’s eyeglasses, all within two months after we breathed a sigh of relief when we paid the taxes on time.

Looming just ahead were a deposit on a new hearing aid for me (I won’t even tell you how old the one I had was), the bi-annual car insurance payment, and a doubled property tax bill. Add to the list higher copays and health insurance deductibles.

But, as they say, it is what it is.

So I was back to praying, “Lord, show me how to do this.”

There was a time when I prayed for God to send the money. I expected Him to drop it in our laps.

It didn’t happen. Not that He doesn’t keep His word to provide for all our needs (Philippians 4:19), to hear us when we call on Him (Jeremiah 33:3), to answer when we ask, seek, and knock (Matthew 7:7–11).

He just knew I had greater needs than instant money.

I needed to learn to live within our means. I needed to apply the words “frugal,” “resourceful,” and “wise.” I needed to learn the difference between “needs” and “wants.” It took me a while, but I needed to learn how to pray—not “Send me the money (like, NOW)” but “Show me how to do this.”

And I needed to learn to find the thanks.

When we’re getting slammed with the unexpected, the unwanted, it’s human nature to cry, “Unfair!” or “Why me?” and to complain, argue, and wrestle with (and sometimes feed) a bad attitude.

Changing our attitude involves a change in our thinking from “poor me” to “rich me.” Because we have a Father who provides for all of our needs out of His riches—His glorious riches.

What am I thankful for during this time when the month is longer than the money?

I’m thankful the water tank lasted as long as it did, the washer needed only one repair during those 16 years, and when they did need replaced, we had the money to pay for them—hubby’s first Social Security check.

Now that the gratitude floodgates were opened, I found myself listing the many, many things for which I was thankful.

But most important,  I’m thankful for a Father in Heaven who will show me how to meet the upcoming bills, who provides for all my needs, and who’s teaching me to find the thanks.

When the stuff of life starts to be overwhelming, Lord, help me to find the thanks. Amen.

Read and reflect on Philippians 4:4–9.

© 2023 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Staying Connected to the Vine

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “V”

And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being. – Genesis 2:7 NKJV

“I am the vine, you are the branches. . . Without Me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5 NKJV 
 

I learned to type on a big, black, heavy, manual typewriter. I composed many a poem on that old machine, using half-sheets of erasable-bond typing paper and saving them in a handkerchief box.

When I got to college, my roommate let me use her portable electric typewriter—and I fell in love! With just a slight touch of the keys, sentences zoomed across the page. (Although I did have to learn not to press so hard.) I begged for one for Christmas, and Santa obliged. I used that machine for over 25 years, typing tests, quizzes, and worksheets on mimeograph masters in my teaching days. 
 
About the time I began writing seriously and submitting my articles to magazines, I learned of something called a word processor. It was like an electric typewriter with a screen (monitor), and I didn’t have to use erasable bond typing paper or whiteout or scratch my mistakes off the page with a razor blade. All I had to do was use the “delete” key. My work was saved to a floppy disk (remember those?), as the word processor had no internal memory to store documents. 
 
I was happy with my Brother word processor, even when I began using a computer at the newsroom where I worked as a feature writer. Although I saw the advantages, I resisted the idea of getting a personal computer. After all, my word processor never crashed.
 
Eventually, though, I caved in. Why had I waited so long? My word processor was relegated to the attic beside the electric typewriter. 
 
I resisted, however, connecting to the Internet—too much risk, I thought, after hearing stories about viruses and hackers and other such boogeymen of the information superhighway. 
 
It took me a while to cave in on that one. But cave in I did, going from a dialup connection through my phone line to a satellite dish on the side of my house.
 
Progress. 
 
From an ugly old manual typewriter to a sleek laptop. From limited telephone communication to being able to connect with anyone on the planet at any time. From boxes and file cabinet drawers stuffed with file folders and floppy disks to practically unlimited online storage space in what’s called a “cloud.”
 
But just let the electricity go out, and we’re stymied. We can use our laptops, portable devices and cell phones until the batteries die, then we’re helpless until the power comes back on. To get anything accomplished these days, it seems, it’s vital to remain connected to an electric power source.
 
“I am the vine, you are the branches,” Jesus said. “He who abides in Me, and I in Him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).
 
Just as I wouldn’t want to go back to the days I used a cumbersome manual typewriter, I don’t want to go back to the time I lived my life without Jesus, my personal power source that never goes out. 
 
Remind me, Lord, to stay plugged in—that in You “I live and move and have my being” (Acts 17:28). Amen.

Read and reflect on John 15:1–15. 

© 2023 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Remembering the Forgotten

There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. –John 15:13 NLT

My late cousin Mary Ann’s career as a military nurse was the inspiration for my second novel, The Heart Remembers.

While my cousin served at a U.S. Navy hospital in Japan during the Vietnam War years, Vangie, the main character in my novel, was a fictional Army nurse who served during that conflict. Vietnam, specifically Pleiku, a town in the central highlands, was the setting for Part One of the book. However, the story wasn’t about the war. The war was but a backdrop of the romance between Vangie and Seth, a medical evacuation helicopter pilot.

Through my research, I pored through several books, including A Piece of My Heart by Keith Walker and Home Before Morning by Lynda Van Devanter, true stories of military nurses who’d served in Vietnam. I learned of the Army’s medical evacuation program in Rescue Under Fire: The Story of Dust Off in Vietnam by John Cook. I read about the bravery of Dust Off pilot Chief Warrant Officer Michael J. Novosel that earned him a Medal of Honor. I learned of the Medcap program that provided medical care to the Qui Hoa Leper Hospital.

In short, I discovered there was good done in Vietnam that never saw press.

The Heart Remembers is a story that patriotic me wrote with passion and sorrow. I was a high school, then college, student during the Vietnam War years. I knew of the protests and the shameful treatment the Vietnam veterans received when they returned stateside. Not a hero’s welcome, that’s for sure.

I hoped my book would somewhat right the wrong by showing at least a glimpse of the courage, grit, and compassion shown in the midst of a very unpopular war. I’m not saying everything done in Vietnam was humane. But since when is war, at any time, humane? When is any war a “popular” war?

When the manuscript was finished, a local Vietnam veteran who was a former Navy Seal read it for accuracy. Then I sent it off. Several publishers seriously considered it. A senior acquisitions editor for a major Christian publishing house liked it so much she presented the manuscript to the committee that determines what gets published and what doesn’t. I had high hopes.

Until I received her email: “Our editorial board met yesterday, and I regret to say we won’t be moving ahead with The Heart Remembers. There was still a lot of concern about the salability of the Vietnam War even as a partial setting, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Even after all these years,” I told my husband, “these poor Vietnam vets are still getting slammed.”

So I published it myself as an independent author-publisher.

The Heart Remembers stands as my tribute to the brave men and women who served their country during a war that some folks still try to hide in the closet. Yet the Vietnam vets I know proudly fly Old Glory in their front yards.

Every Veteran’s Day, this heart remembers.

Thank you, Lord, for the selfless men and women who have served and are serving their country. Bless them and protect them. Smile upon them and be gracious to them. Show them Your favor and give them Your peace (Numbers 6:24–26 NLT). Amen.

Read and reflect on John 15:9–17.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons, © 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

The Heart Remembers is available on Amazon in print and Kindle editions. Click here to get yours. Or you may contact me for an autographed copy at michelethuey@gmail.com.

A God Who Understands

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “U”

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  – Isaiah 40:28 NIV
       
Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. – Luke 2:47 NIV 
 
 
One of the deepest longings we have as human beings is to be understood. If someone truly understands us—who we are deep inside, why we act and react the way we do—and remains in our lives, we know that person loves us, warts and all.
 
I’ve been blessed to have such persons in my life. 
 
First there were my parents, who understood me a lot better than I thought they did. They watched me as I matured, had a hand in developing who I became, and saw parts of themselves in me. 
 
Then there was my godmother, my precious Aunt Betty, who understood me better than my own mother did. While Mom gave me practical birthday gifts, Aunt Betty gave me the girly things I longed for.
 
Then there’s my husband, whose understanding of me has grown with time. He’s seen me frantic, worried, angry, afraid, anxious, joyful—the gamut of emotions. How blessed I am that he’s hung around all these years (50). He understands me through and through—and loves me still.
 
Then there’s my friend Sharon, who understands me because we share both a sisterhood in our womanhood and a common bond as believers. She understands me because we’ve spent time together, and she’s listened to me with not only her ears but also with her heart. She understands me because I’ve trusted her enough to let down my guard and allow her to see me as I really am. 
 
But there’s Someone who understands me even better than anyone, even better than I understand myself—my heavenly Father, my Creator.
 
Psalm 139, one of my favorite portions of Scripture, plumbs the depths of God’s loving understanding of each of us. You are not a nameless face in the mass of humanity. You are His child, uniquely created, intensely loved, and thoroughly understood. 
 
He knows you better than you know yourself. He knows when you come and when you go, when you sit, when you lie down, and when you rise. He knows what you think and what you’re going to say before you even say it (vv. 1–3). 
 
No matter where you go, He is with you, ready to guide you when you need direction and ready to hold you fast when you need stability and security. And when you’re scared of the dark, His eyes pierce the darkness—for darkness is as light to Him (vv. 5–12).
 
He saw you before you were born (vv. 15–16). He shaped you inside and out. Body and soul, you are marvelously made (vv. 13-14, The Message).
 
Each day of your life had a plan and a purpose even before you took your first breath (v. 16).
 
He thinks about you constantly—so much you cannot even begin to fathom how much (vv. 17–18).
 
So the next time you’re feeling misunderstood, when you think no one could possibly understand you, remember the One who created you and, more than anyone else, knows you, understands you, and loves you, warts and all.
 
       
Abba Father, how awesome to be understood and loved like You understand and love me! Amen.

Read and reflect on Psalm 139. 

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

Truth Be Told

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “T”

And the LORD passed by before him, and proclaimed, “The LORD, the LORD God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.”  – Exodus 34:6 NIV
        
“I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  – Jesus, as quoted in John 14:6 NKJV 
 
I’ve always been one to believe whatever anyone told me. Call me gullible. Call me naïve, but I’m a trusting soul. 
 
My mother taught me to always tell the truth, even if it got me into trouble. Like the time my brother, sister, cousin Billy, and I were playing in the backyard, where a green canvas Army tent stood. When my mother called my siblings inside for a few minutes, Billy decided to hide from them.
 
“Don’t tell them where I am,” he said as he slipped into the tent.
 
“I won’t,” I said, feeling awesome that my older cousin trusted me—the youngest of the family—with such important information.
 
When they returned, I put on the most solemn expression I could and said, “Billy isn’t in the tent.”
 
I’ve never been able to lie, and I figured everyone else was wired the same way.
 
But I discovered, to my pain, they aren’t.
 
Like the time my high school boyfriend slipped me a note on the bus coming home from the class picnic at the end of the school year and whispered, “No matter what happens, always remember I love you.”
 
Yeah, right. The note was a “Dear Michele” letter. But I clung to his spoken words throughout that miserable summer even though my heart was broken. Just before the new school year began, I learned he dumped me for a cheerleader.
 
But it didn’t sour me on people. He was just one lying jerk, right?
 
Then in college I got burned again. I was in the dorm lobby with my then-fiancé (who at least told me the truth when he dumped me a year later) waiting for one of the girls in the group I hung around with to return from an errand. It was her birthday, and we’d planned a surprise party. Tammy, one of the gang, told me she’d let me know when the birthday girl came.  
 
So when Tammy came down and said Penny hadn’t returned yet but she’d come get me when she did, I had no reason not to believe her. Turns out she lied. Penny had returned. Tammy went up to the party and told everyone I didn’t want to come. And I wondered for the longest time why I suddenly didn’t have any friends.
 
As a teacher, I learned students were adept at lying—no hint whatever of deceit in their eyes. 
 
I’m sure glad there is one person I know who will never lie—because He can’t. It’s not in His nature.
 
“God is not human, that he should lie,” Scripture tells us (Numbers 23:19). He is “abundant in truth” (Exodus 34:6), “a faithful God, without deceit” (Deuteronomy 52:4), and “the God of truth” (Isaiah 65:16). The apostle Paul called Him “the ever truthful God Who cannot deceive” (Titus 1:2). 
 
People will deceive us. But God never will. 
 
And that’s a truth I can stake my life on.

Thank you, God, that I can trust what You say and know that You will never break Your promises. Amen.

Read and reflect on Psalm 119:41–48.

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

The Lord Is My Shepherd

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “S”

We are His people and the sheep of His pasture. – Psalm 100:14 NKJV
       
“I am the Good Shepherd.” – Jesus, as quoted in John 10:11 NIV 
       
       
Sheep are mentioned in the Bible more than 500 times, more than any other animal. This shouldn’t be too surprising, as sheep were important to the agricultural life of the Hebrews. 
       
But sheep are also used symbolically to refer to God’s people. Have you ever wondered why?
       
First of all, sheep are natural followers. Their instinct is to follow the sheep in front of them. When one sheep decides to wander off, the rest of the flock usually follows. Unlike other animals, they are led, not driven. That’s why the shepherd goes before them. If the shepherd were to go behind them, the flock would scatter.
       
Second, sheep are sociable creatures, living in flocks, staying together while grazing. There’s safety in numbers, as predators are less likely to pounce on a group than one solitary, wayward sheep. However, sheep are known to wander from the fold and have no sense of direction when they get lost (sounds like me). When cornered, their instinct is to flee, not fight. Indeed, they don’t have the equipment to fight—no sharp teeth or hooves, for example—and they can’t run very fast. So a lone sheep separated from the flock is a sheep in trouble.
       
Third, sheep can easily become downcast, and if not tended to right away, can die quickly or become dinner for a predator. In his book, A Shepherd Looks at the 23rd Psalm, former shepherd turned lay pastor Phillip Keller describes what it means when a sheep is downcast: “This is an old English shepherd’s term for a sheep that has turned over on its back and cannot get up again by itself. (It is not strong enough.) . . . It is so essential for the shepherd to look over his flock every day, counting them to see that all are able to be up and on their feet.”
       
Sheep are easily frightened and will stampede, which can lead to them piling up against each other and smothering. Sheep will not drink from running water, so the shepherd must find still waters for them to drink from. They never walk in a straight line (me again) and are the only animals that need care 24/7. And, unlike horses and dogs (and probably more like cats), they’re not trainable.
       
But sheep have good traits, too. Their excellent senses, for instance. They recognize and remember faces and their own shepherd’s voice. At night several flocks could be housed together in one pen, but when morning comes, all the shepherd has to do to separate his flock from the rest is to call out to his sheep, and they will follow him out of the pen. 
       
The shepherd’s job is to protect and defend his sheep, seek those that wander away. He must know 

his sheep well, minister to their wounds, rescue them, lead them, all the while being gentle with them.
       
And he never leaves his sheep alone. His abiding presence is their safety, their security, and their salvation.
       
Does any of this sound familiar?
       
We are the sheep of God’s pasture. He will take care of each of us as a good shepherd takes care of his sheep.

       
Thank you, Father, for watching over and taking care of a dumb sheep like me. Amen.

Read and reflect on John 10:1–18 and Psalm 23.

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

R – A Place of Refuge

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “R”

I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress.” – Psalm 91:2 NIV
       
Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”– Jesus, as quoted in Mark 6:31 NIV
       
       
When my parents bought a rustic one-room cabin in the western Pennsylvania mountains, my mother dubbed it “Camp St. Jude” – “after the saint of impossible cases,” she said.
       
I don’t think she was as fired up about buying the property as my father was. Dad wanted a guy place where he could hunt and enjoy the peace only a place like this could offer. It was the polar opposite of the life we lived in Donora, one of the steel mill towns along the Monongahela River.
       
Camp St. Jude had no water or electric, only gas-fueled sconces on the wall, a kerosene lantern on the table, a wood-burning stove (which we named “Hot Stuff”) in the middle of the yellowed linoleum floor, and an outhouse, which we called “the poogie house” (rhymes with “cookie”), out back. 
       
To convince Mom to buy the place, Dad treated us to a week in a log cabin in Cook Forest – the first family vacation I remember – and promised Mom electricity, running water, an addition so the five of us wouldn’t be crawling on top of each other, and a foundation of concrete block instead of the piers it stood on. 
       
The next several summers were spent fulfilling that promise, although the only running water we obtained was from the neighbor’s well, which we pumped by hand and carted back along a swampy path in five-gallon galvanized milk cans. 
       
But we had fun. Fun yanking nails out of old siding, ripping off the roof, holding lumber in place while Dad sawed. Fun imagining branches were horses, pretending we were space travelers and the wooden swing hanging between two big pine trees was a space ship from Mars. I spent hours in the boughs of a big pine on the corner of the property where I dreamed of what my life would be like when I grew up. 
       
And then I grew up. We sold Camp St. Jude when I was pregnant with our third child. Close friends bought it and, over the years, remodeled it. One summer they invited Dean and me to spend a weekend there with them. 
       
Camp St. Jude hasn’t lost its magic. I awoke Saturday morning refreshed and relaxed. I hadn’t slept that well in I don’t know how long. 
       
It is still a place of refuge – a place to go when the world is just too much to bear, when the stress stretches me to a breaking point, when I feel overwhelmed and in too deep. Perhaps that’s what Dad saw when he first set eyes on the place. 
       
I can’t always go to Camp St. Jude when life gets a little too much, but I can go to God. He is more than “the saint of impossible cases.” He can make the impossible possible.

Thank you, Father God, that I can run to You for refuge any time. Amen.

Read and reflect on Psalm 91.

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

The Three “Q’s” of God

The ABC’s of knowing God better: the letter “Q”

So this is what the Sovereign LORD says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation; the one who relies on it will never be stricken with panic.” – Isaiah 28:16 NIV
       
Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the Scriptures: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes’?” – Matthew 21:42 NIV
       
 
“Q? What was I thinking?” I muttered to myself as I mulled over words beginning with the letter “Q” that describe God. 
 
I browsed through the “Q” section in a Bible dictionary and my “Flip Dictionary,” which is actually a thesaurus, and came up with three possibilities: qualified, quantity, and quoin.
 
Qualified means “having the necessary skill, experience, or knowledge to do a particular job or activity: having the qualifications to do something” (Merriam-Webster online dictionary). You could say God, the Creator of all there is, is qualified. He sets the bar. More than that. He is the bar. He is the omni of omnis. He can do anything, for nothing is impossible for Him (Luke 1:37, Matthew 19:26). 
 
Quantity, a noun, means “an amount or number of something; a large amount or number of something.” 
 
How big is God? Bigger than you or I can imagine. He limitless, infinite.

I love the way A.W. Tozer describes this attribute of God: “God, being infinite, does not dwell in space; He swallows up all space. Scripture says, ‘Do not I fill heaven and earth?’ (Jeremiah 23:24), and that sounds as if God were contained in heaven and earth. But actually God fills heaven and earth just as the ocean fills a bucket which has been submerged in it a mile down. The bucket is full of ocean, but the ocean surrounds the bucket in all directions.” (The Attributes of God)
 
Then I came to quoin. 
 
What’s a quoin, and why would I choose such an odd word to describe God?
 
Actually it’s quite appropriate. 
 
Wikipedia describes quoins as “masonry blocks at the corner of a wall. They exist in some cases to provide actual strength for a wall made with inferior stone or rubble.” 
 
A quoin is like a cornerstone – “the stone representing the starting place in the construction of a monumental building” – and a keystone – “the wedge-shaped piece at the crown of an arch that locks the other pieces in place; something that is essential, indispensable, or basic.” (Dictionary.com)
 
“See,” God tells us through the prophet Isaiah, “I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame” (Isaiah 28:16).
 
I thought finding a word beginning with the letter “Q” was impossible. 
 
Then God showed me nothing with the One who fills time and space and gives strength to inferior rubble like me is impossible.

Thank you, infinite God, for being my cornerstone, my rock of stability, in a world that gets more unstable by the day. Amen.

Read and reflect on Psalm 118.