Where am I?

As Jesus and the disciples left the city of Jericho, a huge crowd followed behind. Two blind men were sitting beside the road.

When they heard that Jesus was coming that way, they began shouting, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

The crowd told them to be quiet, but they only shouted louder, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

Jesus stopped in the middle of the road and called, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“Lord,” they said, “we want to see!”

Jesus felt sorry for them and touched their eyes. Instantly they could see! Then they followed him. – Matthew 20:29–34 (NLT)

Jesus walks in the world today, like He did 2,000 years ago. You can see Him if you look hard enough.

He’s the mother cradling a sick child, the father playing catch with his son, the grandfather putting a popped chain back on a bicycle with training wheels, the grandmother setting aside her what she planned for the day so she could watch the kids while their mother ran some errands, the friend who listens no matter what time of the day when you call.

But when Jesus walks by, where am I?

Perhaps I’m one of the blind beggars, crying out for mercy and healing, ignoring those who tell me to give it up, God’s too busy or important for little me, or that my problem is too small or too large or impossible. “Who are you to ask God for anything?” I’m chided. “You’ve been that way all your life. Accept it.” But I’m desperate. I’ve tried everything else. He’s healed so many—the woman who spent all her money on doctors and only got worse. The thousands of people He fed at one time with a little boy’s lunch of bread and fish—and had food left over! Surely there’s hope for me.

Or am I one of the crowd, shushing up those who don’t meet my standards? They’re too dirty or smelly or lazy. They have no hope, so why bother? Or maybe I don’t want to share Jesus, don’t want Him to take time away from me for those dirty beggars who never worked a day in their lives. They’re not “our kind” of people, you know? Am I one of those who love Jesus because of what He can do for me, for the thrill of the miracle?

Or am I one of the disciples, in training, trying to grasp all that this Man can do, all He’s teaching me. I’m watching, waiting, learning—relearning because I was too thick the first time. Or the second. Or third. Jesus is the Man everyone loves and listens to. I’m merely riding on the coattails of His popularity, basking in the reflection of His glory, important only because of my relationship with Him. I’m one of THE disciples. I’m in with the “in” crowd.

Or am I Jesus to someone who will see Him in me? In what I say and do? In my attitudes and responses. Do I dare touch the untouchables. Step out of my comfort zone to help in a tangible way someone who is sick or hurting or needy? Or do I just drop a few extra dollars in the offering plate so someone else can do it?

Where am I in this scene? Or, more importantly: Who am I?

There’s a story about a statue of Jesus that was damaged in World War II. The villagers tried to reconstruct it, but the hands, they discovered, were beyond repair. “A Christ without hands is no Christ at all!” someone said.

They considered replacing the statue, but then someone wrote a poem that was inscribed on a brass plaque and attached to the base of the bomb-damaged figure:

“I have no hands but your hands to do my work today.
I have no feet but your feet to lead men on their way.
I have no tongue but your tongue to tell men how I died.
I have no help but your help to bring men to God’s side.”

Jesus still walks in the world today. Do you see Him?

Dear God, remind me that I don’t just GO to church—I AM the church and part of the body of Your Son. Show me how I can be Jesus to somebody today. Amen.

Special-Tea: 1 Corinthians 12:12-27

Time in a bottle

Children are a heritage from the LORD. The fruit of the womb is a reward. – Psalm 127:3 (NKJV)

On the kitchen windowsill above my sink are two vases of flowers: daisies my 5-year-old grandson Kyle picked for me the day he was a little stinker and got me mad, and a handful of tiger lilies my husband plucked on the way home from work the day my daughter and her two boys left after a wonderful three-week visit home.

Since Jaime lives 700 miles away, we don’t get to see her and her family often. Now that she’s teaching full time, her week-long Christmas visit is no longer feasible, so she decided to make her annual visit home in June and extend it to three weeks.


So Dean and I brought two mattresses in from the motorhome, emptied a few drawers, moved my lateral filing cabinet into the closet and transformed my writing room into a bedroom for the boys, Alex, 8, and Kyle. I took a monthlong sabbatical from writing and stocked up on macaroni and cheese, paper plates, disposable cups, Band-Aids, Fruit Loops, paper towels, and laundry detergent. I made sure there were children-friendly games, puzzles and movies on hand for rainy days.

Our other three grandchildren, ages 10, 6, and 2, who live next door, were thrilled to have their Southern cousins visit during the summer, when they could play outside. The kids spent every minute they could together. We had a houseful from morning ‘til night.

I sat back and savored every moment, soaking in the sounds of children’s laughter and spats when a game they were playing got too intense, and enjoying my brood together at last. I made a note to hang up a few strips of fly paper in strategic but out-of-the way places. And, of course, I kept the vacuum cleaner within reach.

My refrigerator was crammed. My bare feet picked their way through scattered toys and pieces of toys and games. I stitched a seam on Kyle’s stuffed penguin, did loads and loads and loads of laundry, and ran the dishwasher sometimes twice a day.


Before they came, I’d thought that after three weeks, I’d be ready to see them go.

I wasn’t. I could go for another three weeks (give me a few hours every now and then to myself, though). The day they left I cleaned the upstairs, washed all the bedclothes and hung them on the line, and kept so busy, I made myself sore.

The next day, however, I cried for two hours in an empty and too quiet house. Good thing my daughter-in-law called and asked me to watch the kids in the afternoon. But the oldest, Brent, who had bonded with Alex, looked like I felt—bereft.

When my kids were little and creating chaos, I couldn’t wait for them to grow up and move out, so I could have peace and quiet and order—and a life.

Now I realize they and their families are my life, and an empty, too quiet house isn’t what I really want. I want my brood close, filling my house and heart with life and love and joy.

There was a song back in the ’70s called “Time in a Bottle” that pretty much sums up what I’m feeling today. If I could save time in a bottle, I’d bottle up the first time I held each of my babies and the times I’ve held my children and grandchildren in my lap, reading to them or scratching their backs or just watching TV. I’d bottle up the Sunday evenings we made homemade ice cream using an old-fashioned, hand-crank ice cream maker and the times we spent camping. I’d capture those fleeting moments watching my children run through the grass on a glorious summer day, and I’d bottle up every single visit they made home.

And in lonely, missing-them moments like these, when the reality of how quickly life is passing hits home, I’d pluck down a bottle, open it, and inhale the love and energy of the most cherished moments of a life that’s been blessed beyond all I could have asked or imagined.

Life is passing by all too quickly, Lord. Teach me to number my days aright, that I may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:15) and to rejoice in each day, each moment, that You give me (Psalm 118:24). Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Psalm 127

Virus protection

Take . . . the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. – Ephesians 6:17

The window popped up on my computer screen as I booted up my system for the day’s work session.

“Oh no,” I groaned. “Not again.” The notice informed me that I needed to update my virus protection files.

When I first bought my computer, I pooh-poohed the idea of purchasing a program to protect my system from “viruses” – nasty programs that sick people write and send through the Internet that either make your computer act wacky or shut it down completely.

I got through a year without incident. Then someone informed me that I’d sent an email that had a virus attached. I didn’t even know I was sick. All the horror stories I’d heard about virus-caused computer crashes, I realized, could happen to me. So I bought an anti-virus program and installed it.

I lost count of the times the program arrested an incoming virus and jailed it in quarantine. Since I don’t like the idea of anything potentially harmful in my system, even though it’s disabled in a safe place, I’d mutter a prayer that I didn’t mess things up, hold my breath, and click on the “delete” button. I remained in business.

Screening emails for incoming viruses isn't the only way the anti-virus program protects my computer. Once a week, it automatically scans my complete system for hidden viruses.

Simply installing the program, however, isn’t enough. Updates are needed daily, sometimes several times a day. My program automatically downloads new information so the program can identify the latest viruses going around and stop them before they have a chance to wreak their havoc.

I have an anti-virus program for my spirit, too. It’s called the Word of God. I update it each time I read, study, and memorize Scripture (Ps. 119:11). It abides there, deep in my heart, mind, and soul, protecting me from any incoming things that could harm me. These viruses, once attached to my spirit, either make me “act wacky” until I determine to delete the sin from my life, or control me so that I don’t do what God wants me to do.

A “window” pops up whenever I need to be reminded that God will give me the strength to resist temptation (1 Cor. 10:13), that trials perfect and strengthen my faith (1 Peter 1:6,7; James 1:2-4), that tribulations are the lot of life (John 16:33), and that I can be forgiven when I fail (1 John 1:9). Reading the Bible regularly “scans” my heart, mind, and soul for any hidden sins lurking there.

“The word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12 NIV).

Taking the time each day to read the Bible helps me not only to identify sin when it tries to attach itself to me, but also to boot it out. And that’s protection I wouldn’t want to do without.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (Psalm 139:23-24 NIV)

Special-Tea: Read Ephesians 6:1-18

The right shoes

…having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace… - Ephesians 6:15 (RSV)

When he was growing up, my son David took the shoe trophy for the Huey household. He had a pair of shoes for every occasion and activity: baseball, basketball, skateboarding, school, play, work, fishing and hunting. It would have been simpler—and cheaper—if one pair would have worked for all occasions.

His different shoes, however, each had a different job to do and were crafted accordingly. His spiked baseball shoes gave him traction as he ran around the bases or through the grassy outfield. His basketball shoes gave him the ankle and arch support he needed as he ran and jumped on a hard, wooden floor. Sturdy work boots, like hunting boots, gave him support and protection as he tramped over the uneven terrain of the woods in search of firewood or game. The shoes he wore for fishing were made to keep his feet dry, while his hunting boots were insulated to keep his feet warm.

Cold, wet, or aching feet make it hard to concentrate on and complete the job at hand.

I, too, need the right “shoes” for the job God has given me: to take His peace to the world around me (John 14:27, Matthew 28:20, Acts 1:8).

In order to take this peace to others, though, I have to have it first. Where can I find it? Only through Jesus. It is a gift that comes when we receive Him as Savior and make Him Lord of our lives.

“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart,” Jesus says in John 14:27 (NLT). “The peace I give isn’t like the peace the world gives.”

The peace of the world is fragile, mercurial and temporary. The peace that God gives is solid, unchanging and permanent.

We receive God’s peace when we pray, when we takes our concerns to Him and leave them there, when we trust Him and obey what He tells us.

“Do not be anxious about anything,” Paul wrote to the Philippian church when he was imprisoned in Rome, “but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you” (Philippians 4:6-9 NIV).

Only God’s peace gives me the traction, support, warmth and protection I need to run life’s bases and stand my ground against the enemy.

Only when I have God’s Son in my heart do I have the right shoes on my feet and am ready to take that peace to a world that so desperately needs it.

Do you have the right shoes on your feet?

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace…” (Isaiah 52:7 NIV) Lord, let my feet be beautiful!

Special-Tea: Read Ephesians 6:10-20

Full house, full heart

My kids (from left) David, Shelley, Jaime, and Todd

I'm taking a sabbatical this month from my freelance work, as my daughter and her family are home for three weeks. Since we hadn't seen them in a year, I cleared my schedule so I could spend time with them. Alex, 8, and Kyle, 5, are having a blast with their "northern" cousins, Brent, 10, Madison, 6, and Deagen, 2, who live next door. Jaime lives in South Carolina.

Yesterday on the way home from VBS, we saw a black bear up close, lumbering around in a yard on the side of the road, about 50 feet away. Today we saw a doe munching at the edge of the woods behind the house, about 25 feet away (there go the flowers my husband planted).

Pictured above are my kids and their cousin Shelley, who is Jaime's age and grew up with them. It's been at least two and a half years since we've had all three together in one place at the same time. As soon as I get a picture of all five grandkids together, I'll post it.

Meanwhile, I'm having a ball enjoying every minute of the noise and commotion that comes with a full house. And I'm getting all the hugs and kisses I can! Full house, full heart.

Chest protectors

Stand firm…with the breastplate of righteousness in place. – Ephesians 6:17 (NIV)

When our boys were younger, my husband was forever reminding them of the importance of wearing the proper equipment when playing sports. So when he got his ribs bruised rough-housing with the oldest, who was in full football gear, I had to bite back the “I told you so” and go and buy the biggest Ace bandage I could find. He who preached protection was sore for a month.

Football isn’t the only activity for which participants must wear protective gear. Baseball catchers and umpires, deep sea divers, astronauts, law enforcement officials, construction workers, firefighters and soldiers all wear specially designed equipment to protect their bodies from serious injury.

Especially vulnerable is the torso, where the heart is located. The heart keeps us alive by pumping blood, containing oxygen and nutrients, throughout our bodies to every organ in our body. When our heart stops, we stop. That’s why chest protectors are so important.

In spiritual warfare, we also need a “chest protector.” St. Paul calls it the breastplate of righteousness.

Righteousness is, most simply, right thinking, right feeling and right living.

In a world where right and wrong have become relative and are too often interchanged, the line between what is right and what is wrong has become blurred. How, then, can we know what is right?

That’s easy: Read the Bible. “All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It straightens us out and teaches us to do what is right” (2 Timothy 3:16 NLT).

When the winds of trial threaten my faith, when anger over a careless remark or action rises unbidden, when low funds tempt me to delay paying what I owe, when desire for others’ respect becomes more important than truth and honesty, I need to dig more deeply into God’s Word says and bind that chest protector around me even more tightly.

I should never, ever be without it. I’m much too vulnerable to the enemy’s attacks. Only with it secured and in place can I stand firm.

Have you put on your chest protector today?

Thank you, God, for Your Holy Word. By reading it and putting it into practice, I can stand firm in the battles I face every day. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Romans 3:21-26

Not an ornament

Stand firm, then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist. Ephesians 6:14 (NIV)


When my favorite belt began to unravel, I tucked the frayed and broken edges into the weaving, hoping to extend its life span. Small wonder it was falling apart—I wore it every day with slacks, jeans, shorts or a skirt. I liked the sporty look it gave my outfit for the day.

After a couple of years of daily use, however, the belt took on a worn appearance, and, in time, I could no longer hide the frayed and broken sections, no matter how hard I tried. It was time to dispose of what I’d come to depend upon to complete my daily dress.

At first I felt incomplete, but then I noticed I really didn’t need the belt to hold up my bottoms—my middle-age spread did the job just as well. All my belt had been was an ornament, something added for decoration but having no practical value.

Two thousand years ago when St. Paul instructed the people of Ephesus to have the belt of truth buckled around their waists, a belt was more than an ornament. It was an important piece of a soldier’s armor. A strong, wide piece worn around the middle of the body, the soldier’s belt served two purposes: It protected his vital organs, and it held all the other pieces of his armor together.

In likening truth to a belt, St. Paul has shown us its importance. Truth, defined as “all that is real and will not change,” is not just something I put on to make me look good. Truth has a real and vital purpose: to protect me and to hold me together. The belt of truth gives the wearer the security and peace of a clear conscience. Unlike my imitation leather belt, the belt of truth will never unravel or wear out.

Truth is more than not telling a lie—it’s not being deceitful in any way. It’s not leaving out part of a story in order to change the meaning, either to make ourselves look good or to cover something we don’t want revealed.

Truth is keeping a promise in spite of changing situations and not going back on your word when something better comes up.

Truth is not relative, not a perspective, not a twisting of words, not telling folks what we think they want to hear.

Trust and truth are intertwined. Lose truth, and you lose trust.

In a world where deceit runs rampant, truth is refreshing and freeing.

Have you put on your belt of truth today?


Help me, O God, to bind myself with truth every day of my life. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Ephesians 6:10-24