<![CDATA[Finding God in the Ordinary

<![CDATA[Finding God in the Ordinary - Blog]]>Tue, 21 Apr 2026 06:07:21 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[The Truth about Giving Your All]]>Mon, 20 Apr 2026 16:16:34 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/the-truth-about-giving-your-all

“God’s hands are never limited by what we have in ours.” ~Lysa Terkeurst

Do you ever have days when it feels like you don’t have enough to give? Perhaps your faith, physical stamina, or mental energy is depleted, making it difficult to end the day well. If you’re anything like me, you might even be harsh with yourself and ask questions such as,

Why am I so lazy today?
Why don’t I have more to give?
What’s wrong with me?

Research has found a rise in anxiety and perfectionism in our culture.* There is a heightened pressure to do more, give more, and be more. In reality, we’re only human, and we have many days with limited energy. How do we muster more when our tanks run on empty? The Bible suggests that this may not be the right question.

Time and again, the Gospels demonstrate Jesus’ abundant grace for our lack. In Matthew 14:13-21, Jesus withdrew on a boat to a solitary place. The crowd learned His whereabouts and came from the surrounding towns to meet Him when His boat landed. Jesus had compassion on the people, for they were hungry. He said to His disciples, “Give them something to eat.”

The disciples responded, “We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish.”

Jesus responded with a simple yet profound solution: “Bring them here to me.”

He took the bread and fish, looked up to heaven, gave thanks to God, and broke the loaves. There was enough for the five thousand to eat and be satisfied with twelve basketfuls left over. When the disciples deemed the task impossible due to their lack, Jesus didn’t tell them to conjure up more. He told them to offer what they had. When the disciples handed it to Jesus, it became more than enough for everyone. Likewise, Jesus doesn’t tell us, “Come back when you have more to give, and then I can do something with it.” He says, “Surrender what you have, and I will multiply it.”

We see a similar message in the Parable of the Mustard Seed in Matthew 13:31-32: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”

Though small, the mustard seed grew into an unlikely refuge for God’s creation. Jesus teaches that a seemingly inconsequential beginning can have a far-reaching impact. God’s Kingdom grows over time and often starts with simple, humble acts.

Realistically, we won’t bring 100% energy to the table every day. Some days, we only have 60%, 50%, or even less. I know many people (myself included) who might chastise themselves for not having more. When they have a 50% day, they ask, “Why can’t I have 100% today?”

I’ve tried some cognitive reframing and have decided that if I begin the day with only 50% and choose to offer it all, I'm giving 100% of what I have—and that is enough. In the story of the widow’s offering in Mark 12:41-44, we learn that it’s more than enough in Jesus’ eyes.

“Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, 'Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.'”

Perhaps Jesus can do more with a wholehearted 20% than a half-hearted 80%. Sometimes we fall prey to the deceptive charm of pride, convinced we've brought more to the table than others. In reality, we are not glorified in any of this because it’s never been about us. Jesus is glorified in all of it. This mentality offers abundant peace because it reminds us that the pressure is not all on us! The earthly question is, “How do I muster up the energy when my tank runs on empty?” The Gospel question is, “How can I use what I already have?”

Photocred: Unsplash

*To read more on the rise of perfectionism, see the American Psychological Association

]]><![CDATA[Allowing Interruptions]]>Sun, 29 Mar 2026 07:00:00 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/allowing-interruptions

“We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God, who will thwart our plans and frustrate our ways time and again, even daily, by sending people across our path with their demands and requests.” ~Dietrich Bonhoeffer

The other day, I listened to a podcast by Father Mike Schmitz entitled “If You’re Too Busy, You’re in Danger of This Grave Mistake.” He discussed the Parable of the Great Banquet in Luke 14. In the story, a man hosted a banquet and ordered his servants to send out invitations. As the servant approached prospective guests, each offered a reason they couldn’t attend. The first recently bought a field to see; the second owned five yoke of oxen to care for. The third got married and wished to spend time with his new bride. The servant returned with the news, and his master ordered him to invite everyone he met on the street: the poor, the maimed, the blind, and the lame.

In his analysis, Father Mike noted that the first three individuals were too occupied by their obligations to attend. They weren’t “excuses” per se. In fact, all were fair reasons, reasons we might all have given had we been invited. Yet their preoccupations kept them from shifting their attention to something of greater symbolic significance. The mystery of this is that their lives were full of honorable commitments—a new field, oxen, a wife—yet each kept them from being “interruptible” when a new invitation arose.

One might make the point that tending to a field, caring for oxen, or spending time with family lands higher on the hierarchy of importance than accepting a party invitation from a random stranger. If we take the story at a literal level, I believe that’s true. But I wonder what the field, the oxen, and the wife might represent for us today? Perhaps they look like social plans, our own agendas, or “me time.” Maybe the “banquet” today looks like a service opportunity, helping a friend in need, or making time for a conversation. Might there be moments when God asks us to surrender something we want for something that builds the Kingdom?

Father Mike reflected on this in humility, acknowledging it as a habit of his heart. If we’re honest, I think we’ll find that it's our habit, too. Perhaps our lives grow so full of obligations, responsibilities, and plans that they hinder our love. Many of us would likely insist that we want to love God and our neighbors, yet perhaps we fill our lives to the brim and don’t allow time.

I’m reminded of the story of the rich ruler in Luke 18. The rich ruler asked Jesus what he had to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus told him to follow the commandments, sell his belongings, and distribute them to the poor. The ruler found the level of surrender Jesus asked for too great to embrace. In this story, the rich ruler loved God and followed the commandments, yet in this crucial moment, he loved his belongings more. We often interpret this story in terms of wealth and possessions, and I think largely that’s true, but I wonder if there are moments when we love our time more than we love God. I wonder if we guard our schedules and plans more than we submit to interruptions for God’s kingdom-building purposes. Perhaps we share a commonality with the rich ruler. We may love God and follow Him in many ways, but when Jesus interrupts us for a meaningful encounter, we end up loving our time more.

Father Mike posed the question: Does God have our permission to interrupt us? He made the case that being interruptible means making space for the question: What matters most in this moment? The willingness to change our direction and engage in what is most important might be the fullest expression of our love. Perhaps in the disruption of our earthly inertia, we find faith refined by surrender.

My next-door neighbors live this virtue well. As chance would have it, we often arrive home at the end of the day around the same time. As I pull into my driveway, they’ve usually just stepped out of their car and begun walking to the front door. Even when they’re over halfway to the door, they always take the moment to stop, turn around, and offer a warm wave and smile. It’s a simple routine I’ve observed, yet never evaluated for deeper significance until viewing it in the light of interruptibility. Even with a destination in mind, they pause and acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, we focus so heavily on where we’re headed that we forget who is beside us. We forfeit attentiveness for urgency. I think my neighbors understand the value of being interruptible.

I’ll never forget how my best friend lived out this virtue a couple of years ago on my birthday, which falls during spring break. That day, dark clouds masked the sky, and rain fell in buckets while I sat alone at my apartment with a cold. My friend came over with a bag of groceries and my favorite video game. She cooked us a meal, and we spent the afternoon playing video games together. I will never forget how deeply cared for I felt in that moment. I’m sure she had other things on her plate, and she likely didn’t picture herself spending a day of her spring break with a sick friend and risking getting sick herself. Yet, she sacrificed her time to brighten my day.

The ever-wise C.S. Lewis puts it like this: “The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s ‘own’, or ‘real’ life. The truth is, of course, that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life—the life God is sending one day by day.” So often, we view our priorities and agendas as “life” and anything that takes us away from them as an inconvenience. Perhaps God calls us to lean deeper into the interruptions. Who knows what we will discover in this unfolding space?

Photocred: Unsplash

]]><![CDATA[How Grace Shows Up]]>Sat, 03 Jan 2026 17:28:11 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/how-grace-shows-up

“For nature is an image of grace, and the visible miracles are images of the invisible.” ~Blaise Pascal

In recent years, viewing annual meteor showers has become one of my new favorite pastimes. I used to think they took place on a long-term basis, such as once every twenty years or so. Before looking into it, I had no idea how many appeared yearly. In 2025, I learned of an annual event known as the Ursid meteor shower, which is caused by debris from the comet 8P/Tuttle. The Ursids are active in mid-to-late December and peak right before Christmas, at which time observers can see about 5-10 meteors per hour.

A cloudless sky settled over West Michigan on the peak night of the Ursids, perfect conditions for stargazing. That night, I lay outside on the frigid ground, donned in snowpants and a coat, hoping to catch a glimpse of a meteor dancing across the sky. The atmosphere of the night filled my senses—the distant hum of vehicles off the highway, the chill of the grassy floor beneath my back, and stars dotting the jet black sky to offer pinpricks of light. While waiting, I began to whisper my favorite hymn, "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus," words I’ve found comforting in times of hardship.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace

As the last words “glory and” left my lips, a meteor flared across the sky. It seemed like God’s way of chiming in, a physical example of grace filling in the next line of the song. Its beauty and timeliness robbed me of words.

It reminded me that when we allow ourselves to be still in creation, God can meet us in unique ways. We encounter the beauty of nature every day and often don’t give it extra thought. Sometimes, we’re granted moments that gently invite our attention, opening us up to the miracle of creation. God’s divine handiwork can act as a visible sign of His invisible grace and mercy. Frederick Buechner once said, “In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

The Ursids are only one of two major meteor showers in December. The other is the Geminids, which originate from the asteroid 3200 Phaethon. Most meteor showers stem from comets, but the Geminids are unique in that they derive from an asteroid. They are active from late November to late December, with their peak in mid-December. It seems fitting that these two beautiful celestial shows take place during the season of Advent, a time of waiting. They give us something to look forward to, something to stand in awe of, an avenue to encounter grace—all as we wait for the arrival of our Savior.

Sometimes we can become so focused on the things we wait for that we forget to cherish the quiet gifts already in hand. We need patience for waiting, and beauty has a way of teaching us patience. Perhaps these meteor showers serve as a microcosm of possibilities that offer abundant joy, even in chapters of waiting. What might that look like for you today?

Photocred: Unsplash

]]><![CDATA[Beauty in Change]]>Wed, 10 Dec 2025 20:41:58 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/beauty-in-change

One autumn day, I took a forest walk to observe the colors of the shifting season. Along the path, a vibrant leaf on a tree branch caught my eye, its red hues a striking contrast from the sea of green surrounding it. It made me wonder: Why did it draw my eye more than its neighboring leaves? What was it about that leaf in particular that made it stand out?

It stood out because it appeared distinct from the others. It occurred to me that the leaf which underwent the process of change held the greatest salience. By its nature, a leaf releases its bygone layers, allowing for rebirth in a new season. I wonder if our nature requires the same of us. It reminds me of the famous quote by C.S. Lewis about God building a palace:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

Lewis illustrates a picture of change that seems painful. I imagine God ripping out the foundation of pride, tearing down walls of self-sufficiency, disconnecting old wirings of vanity, and clearing away outdated fixtures of culture. Once He eradicates the old, God straightens the cracked and shifting foundation, rewires the internal systems of our desires and thought patterns, establishes a new structural framework of grace and truth, and puts up restored walls with the vibrant hues of His mercy and love. God brings about more than surface-level modifications for cosmesis alone. He is shaping something brand new from the ground up. In 2 Corinthians 3:18, the Apostle Paul writes, “And we all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”

"From one degree of glory to another” implies an ongoing, progressive molding to the likeness of Christ. God doesn’t plan to leave us in our present condition. Just as Jesus called Simon “Peter,” He names us according to His future vision, not by our current limitations. He promises to make all things new. In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis puts it like this:

“If we let Him—for we can prevent Him, if we choose—He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful, but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said.”

The most beautiful people I have met are those willing to let their former selves fade, paving the way for renewal. They’ve shed worldly ways of vanity, envy, pride, and selfishness to welcome the new work God plans to do in their hearts. Change begins with naming the patterns in our lives that must come to an end, involving those we trust to walk alongside us, yielding to God’s sustaining grace, and establishing alternate habits to replace our rhythms of the flesh. If we allow His mercy to inculcate our nature, we will emulate the beauty of the scarlet leaf in a sea of green.

Photocred: Unsplash

]]><![CDATA[The Importance of Stillness]]>Sun, 28 Sep 2025 15:09:00 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/the-importance-of-stillness

"We need to find God, and God cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence." ~Mother Teresa

One day, I made my way to a favorite restaurant for a meal and a cup of coffee. Usually, I’d plan ahead and ask a friend to join me. This time, however, the impromptu nature of the decision left me unaccompanied.

As the waitress led the way to a booth, I chuckled, thinking of how uncomfortable my high school or even early college self would have felt sitting on her own. With age and maturity, that way of thinking has changed, but I’ll never forget the impact that mindset had on me at the time.

Many of us possess a strong urge to appear productive and busy. If we have even a moment of silence, many of us feel an immediate impulse to pull out our phones and fill the space. This has conditioned us to experience discomfort with stillness. Yet, this stands in contrast to the call of Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.”

The word “and” sticks out to me the most. “And” is a conjunction that, according to Merriam-Webster, is used “as a function word to indicate connection or addition” or “as a function word to express logical modification, consequence, antithesis, or supplementary explanation.” Perhaps “and” connects the ideas of being still and knowing God. It may also serve as a function word to express the subsequent consequence of pursuing stillness. In other words, it might imply that experiencing stillness is an important key to entering into relationship with God.

I’ve learned it’s challenging to find God in the ordinary when oversaturated by noise (and the Lord knows our society is filled with it). From work and school to relationships, social obligations, screens, and social media, many corners of life clamor for our precious time and attention. At times, the cultural noise feels deafening.

Now, we can certainly encounter God in the rhythms of daily life; they serve as meaningful spaces to worship and glorify Him. Not everything is a distraction. And yet, I wonder if there exists a deeper invitation in stillness. Perhaps God longs to reveal truths in the whispers of quiet, truths we cannot hear in the clamor.

I’ve come to realize that silence opens the door for novel ideas to enter our minds. For example, if I listen to a podcast while walking, I’m flooding my headspace with content created by another person. While a valuable practice, as it serves as an avenue to learn new information, excessive consumption of content in the absence of stillness removes the opportunity for original thought. In other words, if we fill our minds only with what others think, do we forfeit the chance to discover what we truly think? I often challenge myself to take walks with nothing in my ears but the chorus of creation, and the reflections that emerge have surprised me. Much of my writing content flows out of quiet contemplation. When I forgo this practice, the creative well often runs dry.

When we have moments to pause and observe our surroundings, God meets us there with something new. We need not feel uncomfortable or alone. In silence, we encounter the Spirit of the Living God, Who breathes life into our lives and makes all things new.

I encourage you to find your way of quieting the cultural noise and take notice of how you feel afterward. Go for a walk. Look up at the trees and observe how the sunshine peeks through the branches. Sit by yourself at the lake and listen to the waves meet the shore. Watch as an intricate snowflake finds its home on the icy forest floor. Pay attention to a squirrel scuttering busily up a tree. Feel blades of grass tickle the spaces between your toes. When you experience true stillness, maybe you will come to know God more deeply.

Photocred: Unsplash

]]><![CDATA[Humble Tasks with Profound Purpose]]>Mon, 28 Apr 2025 19:32:28 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/humble-tasks-with-profound-purpose

“Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” ~Mother Teresa

Is it just my imagination, or has this Michigan winter been harsher than those of years past? Had I kept track, I'd estimate about ten to fifteen days lived underneath a relentless gray sky. Then came a single day of sunshine—a tease and a much-needed reprieve—before the clouds returned, once again blanketing the sky in an all-too familiar gray. In conversation after conversation, the weather often came up as a quiet lament and shared weariness. Spring felt long overdue. Yet as the days steadily warmed, I could feel the subtle lift in the spirits of those around me.

With spring here, I gave thought to seasonal traditions I’m most looking forward to. Some of us may have more formal practices, such as gatherings with family to celebrate annual holidays. I think there are also less obvious, informal seasonal customs that call for our greater attention. One such practice I’m eager for is watching more people enjoy nature. In my neighborhood, people are always out walking and relishing the fresh air. Last summer, I observed a neighbor who had an endearing routine. At first, its meaning escaped me, but with closer attention, I learned an important lesson.

My neighbor, John, is among the most joyful, kind, and gracious individuals I’ve ever met. On many spring and summer days, you can find him zooming around the neighborhood in his motorized wheelchair, blasting music on his phone from classic artists like Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, or Louis Armstrong. I often open my windows when he travels by to allow his lively music to fill the room.

Outside my window stands a welcoming, community bench under a shady tree for residents to enjoy. One day a week, I witnessed John soaring past my house with music on and a spray bottle of cleaner in his hand. He drove next to the bench, parked, and tenderly wiped it clean. As I paid closer attention, I noticed the maintenance crew arrived to tend to the grounds the next day. Whether John knew it or not, the maintenance crew sat on the bench to eat and enjoy their lunch each week between work hours. With all of the hard work they put in, I was touched by the fact that the bench was one less thing they had to tend to. Instead, they could sit and enjoy it, thanks to John.

After I noticed the maintenance crew, John’s delight while cleaning the bench became more apparent to me. He accomplished the task with a distinct joy and purpose, mysteriously intertwined with pride and humility. He seemed to take great pride in his kind act, yet humbly did it for the enjoyment of others. It reminded me of the well-known quote by Mother Teresa: “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”

John’s actions served as a reminder to be the type of person who does small acts of love without seeking validation. John taught me that perhaps “great love” isn’t compatible with seeking praise. Bob Goff describes it as being “secretly incredible.” When we eliminate the fanfare of culture, I think we can experience deep joy from thoughtful acts. John might be one of the most “secretly incredible” folks I’ve met. That’s the kind of presence that can disarm and remind you of what’s most important. What is a “secretly incredible” thing you can do for someone this week?

Photocred: Unsplash

]]><![CDATA[Regression to the Mean]]>Mon, 10 Mar 2025 17:32:16 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/regression-to-the-mean

“The only thing that is constant is change.” ~Heraclitus

Have you ever experienced hardship and felt like it would never end? When we’re in seasons of want, it’s easy to forget what seasons of plenty feel like.

A mathematical term, regression to the mean, has brought me great comfort in adversity. Statistically, it refers to the phenomenon in which a sample or value that falls at an extreme is usually followed by a sample closer to the mean. In short, no matter the circumstance, whether trial or triumph, everything returns to the middle eventually. Recognizing this trend does a couple of things for us. First, it serves as encouragement that our tribulations won’t last forever. In time, the storm will pass. Second, when we find ourselves at a peak, we can have humility and gratitude for however long it may last.

Oscar Wilde echoes this notion: “Some things are precious because they don’t last long.” We can appreciate blessings more deeply when we’re honest about circumstances eventually falling back to the middle. Likewise, we can have hope in hardship because we know it too will pass. Cognizance alone of regression to the mean is enough to bring us some degree of peace. In an article entitled “Regression Toward the Mean: An Introduction with Examples,” featured in The Brain Food Newsletter, the author suggests that regression to the mean highlights the importance of “track records rather than relying on one-time success stories.” C.S. Lewis referred to it as the “Law of Undulation.”

Their nearest approach to constancy therefore is undulation: the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks. If you had watched your patient carefully you would have seen this undulation in every department of his life—his interest in his work, his affection for his friends, his physical appetites, all go up and down. As long as he lives on earth periods of emotional and bodily richness and liveliness will alternate with periods of numbness and poverty.
—C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

Nothing on earth remains the same for long. It is an integral part of the human experience. Embracing regression to the mean fosters humility at our peaks and hope in our troughs. Adversities are not without purpose, for God uses them to shape us into His likeness. He uses them to refine virtues of humility, perseverance, patience, contentment, and courage. Lewis even suggests our prayers offered in undulation please God best.

If you find yourself in a trough, take heart in the knowledge that it won’t last forever. God treasures the prayers you offer Him in hardship. God can use it to sharpen your resilience and perseverance, which will serve you well in the future. Eventually, things will come back to the middle.

Photocred: Unsplash
*To learn more about regression to the mean, visit Brain Food Newsletter

]]><![CDATA[2025: the Year of...]]>Wed, 18 Dec 2024 08:00:00 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/2025-the-year-of

“Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.” ~Psalm 27:14

I’ve gotten into the practice of developing a theme by which to “mark” each year. It has helped me center my thoughts and actions around a single virtue and strengthen it throughout the year. In the past, I’ve chosen themes such as grace, acceptance, and gentleness. This year, the season of Advent inspired me for my 2025 theme.

During a sermon, my pastor quoted the famous theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was born in 1906 and became a strong antagonist against the Nazi regime. He was arrested in April 1943 for his opposition to Hitler. Bonhoeffer was hanged in April 1945, only weeks before the end of World War 2. In a letter to his fiancée before his death, he wrote:

“Celebrating Advent means being able to wait. Waiting is an art that our impatient age has forgotten. It wants to break open the ripe fruit when it has hardly finished planting the shoot. But all too often the greedy eyes are only deceived; the fruit that seemed so precious is still green on the inside, and disrespectful hands ungratefully toss aside what has so disappointed them.”

Bonhoeffer reminds us of the heart of Advent. We wait in anticipation of the Savior’s arrival, which symbolizes hope, joy, and the eventual day when sin and darkness will be no more. Advent is marked by waiting. Yet, waiting bleeds into the season of Advent and into our everyday lives. We find ourselves waiting for jobs, people, relationships, change. In life, we have to wait for so many things. To do that well, we need patience.

Joyce Meyer says, “Patience is not simply the ability to wait - it’s how we behave while we are waiting.” Thus, to embody patience, we need abundant humility. This ties in with my previous theme of acceptance. Acceptance doesn't mean you particularly like your circumstances; it means you surrender your expectations of them. It takes patience and humility not to allow negative reactions or behaviors to flow from our unmet expectations.

An article written by Thomas Barbain, Ph.D., in the Columbia Metropolitan offers a fascinating insight into patience:

“Patience is a virtue! Or, at least that is how the saying goes. But is it really? Patience is defined as “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset,” a definition with several important components. Patience is also a skill. We can work on increasing our ability to be patient and engage in practices to become a more patient person.”1

For much of my life, I thought of patience as a virtue. To some extent, I suppose it is. However, I never considered it a skill. Patience involves a capacity to demonstrate certain behaviors in undesirable circumstances. Thus, it isn’t simply a virtue we either have or don’t, but a daily challenge we can all accept.

To achieve patience, I think we need some level of stillness, like water that is so still it reflects an image on its surface. When we are impatient, what we lack is stillness. We feel a rush of emotions and often react without providing space to process our feelings and let them pass. Perhaps if we find patience and stillness, we can better reflect the image of God.

I invite you on my journey through this next year of patience: patience for people, circumstances, and ourselves. Perhaps we can accept what is with humility and wait for what is not yet with patience.

Photocred: Wikimedia Commons

]]><![CDATA[The Spirit of Our Values]]>Mon, 07 Oct 2024 07:00:00 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/the-spirit-of-our-values

“Action is the language of the body and should harmonize with the spirit within.” ~Cicero

I used to think the most important part about being a Christian was believing all of the right things, and then the right actions would naturally flow from this belief system. In recent years, I’ve realized God not only cares about our values but also about the spirit of those values.

The best Biblical example that comes to mind is the Pharisees. They adhered to a high moral standard that, rather than making them more humble and gentle, became a cause to condemn and criticize others. Even though they endorsed the virtuous principles of the Christian faith, they gained a reputation for being pedantic and legalistic. This is because many viewed themselves as assiduous defenders of the law rather than sinners who needed God’s grace just as much as everyone else.

Today, this can look like people having all the right words, but lacking sincerity, authenticity, and gentleness. When we share our beliefs with others, we need to ask: Am I trying to share the joy of a life lived for Jesus, or simply win an argument? It can look like someone doing something kind and posting about it on social media. Are they doing it because it’s the right thing to do or for the social accolades it may bring? While God looks at our beliefs and actions, He cares about the state of our hearts, even regarding charity. From 2 Corinthians 9:7:

“You must decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. ‘For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.’”

Many of us may think the action of giving is all that matters when it comes to charity, but God also cares about the state of our hearts when we give. Is it out of guilt? Compulsion? Expectation? Or does it flow from a heart of gratitude over what God has done for us? The motive behind the action matters just as much as the action itself. Seneca echoes this sentiment in his book Moral Letters: “Nothing is noble if it’s done unwillingly or under compulsion. Every noble deed is voluntary.” Seneca even goes so far as to suggest that an ill intent behind an action nullifies any nobility the action may have created.

Our beliefs and actions may head-fake us into thinking we have it all figured out, but it’s important to look deeper and discover the why behind what we say and do because it can tell us a lot about the state of our hearts. God cares about our beliefs and actions, but He wants our hearts to be in line with them too.

Photocred: Unsplash

]]><![CDATA[God's Magical Surprises]]>Mon, 26 Aug 2024 14:50:36 GMThttps://www.findinggodintheordinary.com/blog/gods-magical-surprises

“God’s way is better than your way. His plan is bigger than your plan. His dream for your life is more rewarding, more fulfilling, better than you’ve ever dreamed of. Now stay open and let God do it His way.” ~Joel Osteen

Every year from mid-July to late August, the Perseid Meteor Shower gifts us a stunning celestial show. Gaining its name from its proximity to the constellation Perseus, the Perseid Meteor Shower peaks between the 9th and 14th of August, at which time viewers can see up to 60 meteors per hour in a clear sky. The comet Swift-Tuttle, orbiting every 133 years, is the parent body from which the meteorites originate.*

During the peak of the meteor shower, some friends and I took the opportunity to witness the astronomical event. We made our way to a school football field outside the range of the city lights. The minute we got out of the car, I saw a streak of light dance across the sky and knew instantly that a magical night awaited us. We lay in the grass and spotted several meteors racing above us. Then, my friend turned to her left and noticed faint streaks of green in the sky. She adjusted the exposure time on her phone to better discern what she was looking at. A few of us attempted to direct her back to the meteor shower, convincing her it must be nothing more than the school stadium lights (boy, were we wrong). After changing the exposure time on her phone, she discovered it was the Northern Lights!

Through the phone lens, we saw brilliant hues of green and pink paint the sky. It was a one-in-a-million experience, and I found myself with an afterglow of wonder. What struck me about the entire thing was that we went into the night with our eyes set on a different prize. Yet, God surprised us with something a million times more shocking and beautiful.

It reminded me of a quote spoken by the character Steve Edison in the movie The Wedding Planner: “What if what I think is great really is great, but it’s not as great as something greater?” I think sometimes, we go into life with a certain plan or expectation, blinders on to anything else that could happen, because we don’t expect more for ourselves than what’s right in front of us. Maybe this looks like a difficult living situation, complicated relationship, or exhausting occupation. You may think this is all there is for you, and things couldn’t possibly get better.

That mid-August night reminded me that God is more than capable of wowing us beyond our wildest dreams. Like a father’s elation at surprising his child with the perfect gift on their birthday, God experiences immense joy from witnessing His children's delight. We went into the evening hoping to encounter a meteor shower (which arguably was a pretty magical thing to begin with), but God somehow opened our eyes to something even more magnificent. I could almost hear Him whisper into the night: My children, I have more waiting for you. And I can’t wait to unfold it. Keep your eyes open.

What if we stopped getting so stuck on our expectations and opened our eyes to what God may have in store? What if we looked beyond our myopic views to see the magic that God is capable of dropping in our lives? We may enter into situations with our versions of how things will play out, but rest assured, God has a surprise act backstage that will leave us in awe.

*To learn more about the Perseid Meteor Shower, see Perseids

]]>