Today was harder than expected. It is an anniversary, but not really one that is cause for celebration. Perhaps it’s better to call it a milestone, one that I don’t think I’ll be able to forget for the rest of my life but hopefully will be less painful to remember year after year. Yet today was admittedly more difficult than I prepared myself for.
One blessing was that I was asked to sing and serve with friends for the worship service today. I’ve shared in previous blog posts that singing has been helpful in this journey. One of the songs chosen was a new addition to the set of songs we usually play throughout this year. It was actually an old song from the past and I was thankful that it was chosen on such a day like this. I found myself trying to keep it together, so let me share these appropriate lyrics that I’ve sung on repeat today to remind my grieving and doubting heart that I have reasons to sing and praise my Heavenly Father who loves me.
This is my prayer in the desert When all that’s within me feels dry This is my prayer in my hunger and need My God is the God who provides
This is my prayer in the fire In weakness or trial or pain There is a faith proved of more worth than gold So refine me Lord through the flame
Have you ever thought that you needed to do “big things for God”? Have you ever felt like you weren’t living up to the standard of a “good Christian” if you weren’t giving up all that you have to donate to the poor or to become a lifelong missionary? While there are people that may be called to do so, most people throughout history to this day, including you and I, will continue to lead ordinary, mundane lives. But we get lots of sermons, books, and resources that heavily encourage us to do big, monumental things for God.
In this book, The God of the Mundane, Matthew B. Redmond asks a very important question, “Is there a God of the mundane?” Does God care about the parent that is barely able to stay awake after changing countless diapers and feedings throughout the day for their child? Does God care for the individual that is struggling with their job? These are all believers but there is nothing seemingly significant about their day-to-day roles.
The answer to Redmond’s question shouldn’t be surprising (spoiler alert: it’s in the title). He argues that most of us will not be called to be like the apostles in the New Testament, but rather, most of us will be the audience that the apostles wrote to. In 146 pages, Redmond reminds us that God seeks obedience and faithfulness in whatever season, circumstance, gifts, and talents He has given to us. The reality is that the majority of our life will be filled with the mundane and that is totally okay. We may remain nameless in history, as did most of the readers of the epistles, but we will be remembered by the God who knows and sees all.
We are not saved from mediocrity and obscurity, the ordinary and the mundane. We are saved in the midst of it. We are not redeemed from the mundane. We are redeemed from the slavery of thinking our mundane life is not enough.
Page 62, The God of the Mundane
I was very encouraged to read this book. It challenged me. I have definitely listened to sermons and read books that challenged me to live radically and boldly for Jesus. I have grappled with similar questions of whether God truly wants me to continue to live normally in my profession, doing what seems to be somewhat insignificant tasks in light of eternity. However, it would be a lie to think that where God has called each of us is without a purpose. There is a purpose. It does take courage to follow Jesus as a nobody, but perhaps being faithful in the mundane, especially joyfully obedient, can be quite extraordinary. It would reflect dying to ourselves, the self that seeks fame and glory. Only a God of the mundane will be able to tell the story of how He sustained His people who live ordinary lives and reflect His image in ordinary ways.
This is a question I’ve been asked a lot lately. Sometimes it’s just a greeting, which may usually get my automatic usual response of “I’m doing good, how are you?”. However, when this question is being asked out of genuine care and concern for my well-being (which is quite often), I know that my automatic response can’t fool the ones asking me, so I’ll pause to answer because it really depends moment by moment. There are certainly happy days – days when life feels a bit normal and I am able to laugh and feel grateful for how far I’ve come and where God has placed me. But then there are many lonely nights when I’m just lying down, curled into a fetal position, crying out to God to take away my pain, my hurt, my longings. To restore what has been broken. To help me to surrender and to trust in the unknown. To give me new desires.
Honestly, it’s super embarrassing and humbling to admit that some days are just so hard. I don’t like working through my emotions or revealing my weaknesses. Waking up and facing each new day is a battle for me. I’m still sad and confused; processing and grieving; waiting and trying to be still.
I’m still processing over the events that have happened to me recently, trying to figure out what forgiveness might look like and what will it take for me to move on from this traumatic heartbreak and to have closure. It has become more and more clear that what I chose was the wisest decision, that obedience to Christ is better than whatever temporary sorrow and despair that I feel now. This doesn’t mean that I haven’t felt resentment or bitterness. Oh, on the contrary, I think I’ve gone through every possible emotion in the last three months!
And yet, despite all of this, I can’t believe that my heart has grown to love Jesus more. I’m learning that I can run to Him and bring all my emotions to Him (yes, even the ugly ones!). There have been many moments of desperation and in those times, even when I can’t stop the stream of endless tears from flowing down my face, I have a gentle assurance and conviction that God is worthy of my trust. He is speaking to me through Scripture. He is speaking to me through family and friends who are praying for me, caring for me, and spurring me on to finish this race well. He is faithful to me.
Persevering Joy 