The Miracle of Love

Dean and me in the spring of 1973

Read and reflect on Ecclesiastes 4:9–12

Then the LORD God made a woman…and he brought her to the man. – Genesis 2:22 (NIV)

“Love is a miracle,” I told my husband the day after we attended a wedding.

The groom’s love for his bride shone from his eyes, was etched in every line of his face as he watched her approach him on her father’s arm.

“You must be so in love,” I told him after the ceremony.

He beamed. “Oh, I am!”

Love is a miracle. Think of it—one man meets one woman and falls in love—and she loves him in return. What, with all the billions of men and women in the world, are the chances of that? Yet it happens everyday.

I remember when I met my husband. I was drawn to him instantly—his gentle manner; his tall, slender frame; his trim beard; and curly, shoulder-length hair—but it was those twinkling blue eyes that did me in. That’s why all the love interests of the protagonists in the novels I write have twinkling blue eyes.

What a wonder when I found out that he was attracted to me, too! I mean, I was the girl who, in grade school, could never get anyone to “like me back.” Who wondered in high school if she’d ever go steady (I did). Who, in college, accepted a proposal from someone she thought was the love of her life, only to have him drop her a year later without an explanation. Who, after having her heart shattered, gave up on love and focused on a career.

And then, three months after vowing never to fall in love again, I met Dean. On our first date I knew deep down, where there are no words, that he was “The One.” We married eleven months after we met. The heart, indeed, has a mind of its own.

 I still thrill at the sight of him. Time and life, with all the disappointments and curve balls and tests and trials, have only strengthened and deepened the bond we share. And, wonder of wonders, after experiencing me at my worst, after 48 years, he loves me still!

Some call it chemistry. I call it God.

After all, He is love (1 John 4:16). He created woman for man and performed the first marriage ceremony (Genesis 2:18–25; 1 Corinthians 11:8–9) because He knew that “two are better than one” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–12). He blessed us with the gifts of romance and passion, which, within the boundaries He set, are gifts, not sin (Song of Solomon).

Love is a miracle and miracles are matters of the heart, not the head. If you have to talk yourself into loving someone, it isn’t love. With love, using your head and all your reasoning ability doesn’t work.

The miracle of love. One man. One woman. Loving—and in love with—each other. Wow.

Dear God, thank You for the love that blesses and brightens my life. Amen.

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

Lazarus at My Gate

Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.  —Matthew 6:33 KJV

Global seems to be the latest buzz word. You’ve got to think, speak, and act globally. No more the small-town mindset. Anyone who isn’t sophisticated, well-informed, and technology-savvy just isn’t with it these days.

This global philosophy has infiltrated the Christian ranks too. We’re to pray for the world, for the country, for worldwide missions, for people we don’t know and probably never will. Now, this isn’t bad. Someone needs to pray for world peace and give to missions.

There are those who can handle this information overload. I’m not one of them.

Quite frankly, it depresses me. I’m overwhelmed by prayer lists that grow longer and more disheartening by the day. I feel helpless when I read of a 101-year-old woman on her way to church who’s mugged by an addict who targets elderly women to get his drug money; of children and animals that are tortured and killed; of government officials who are more interested in playing politics, posturing, and pointing fingers than running the country; of misused money that was sent in good faith to alleviate others’ suffering.

Do I really need to know all this? My global prayers seem weak, bumbling, pat, and ineffective.

I keep thinking of the question God asked Moses, “What is that in your hand?” (Exodus 4:2).  And then I see the need to focus on what I have in my hand. I’m sensing the need to reach out to people around me who are hurting—something I’ve neglected because I’ve been too focused on the global.

 I realize God has been saying, “Look to the Lazarus at your gate.” The older I get, the more people whom I know will be hospitalized, lose loved ones, experience crises. These are the Lazaruses at my gate. Yet I’ve insulated and isolated myself from my immediate world in pursuit of the global.

How many decades did Mother Teresa labor in the ghettos of India unnoticed? Now, this woman didn’t think globally. Yet her words resonate in my soul: “God has not called me to be successful; He has called me to be faithful.”

When we focus too much on the global, we can overlook the people around us—family, neighbors, those we meet at church, in the store, at ballgames and on the street—because we may think ministering to them is too small. But the globe is made up of folks like these, and if we each reached out and touched them, the ripples will be felt in all the world.

Dear God, open my eyes to the Lazarus at my gate today. Amen.

Read and reflect on Luke 16:19–31.

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