Ordinariness

“What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?” -John 6:28

The evening of Christmas Day found us strangely alone. We are not used to that. Typically we are awash in children and grandchildren. But we were sharing them with their other grandparents and so we went to see a movie. It almost seemed sacrilegious except that we went to see “The Nativity.” It was a beautiful film, and Christmas Day made it even more special. The scriptural highlights of the story were nice enough even though I might have done a few of them differently. But the thing that struck me most was the extent and reality of the “ordinariness” of everyday life that played out between the annunciation and the birth. In between the momentous visitation of Gabriel to Mary and the night of the nativity in Bethlehem were some nine months of cooking meals, fetching water, caring for siblings, and worries about things like taxes and friendships and, oh yes, a betrothal and the appearance of a illegitimate pregnancy. Mary was picked up and hurled out of her innocent and unassuming life into an unavoidable clash with prophecies and cynical public perceptions.

The ensuing turmoil of emotions and obligations continued unabated over the months but bereft of angelic visits or heavenly visions. How often both she and Joseph would have wished for confirmation of what they had heard. It had to be hard to have your world turned upside down with a one-minute sound bite by an angel who then left without a trace or a witness. First you get enough news to stagger a trained theologian and then it is back to milking goats or whatever. Weeks followed after weeks with no further heavenly updates. Just a fading memory of words that had to live in spite of the weeds of doubt springing up and obscuring the view. In the meantime, there were chores to be done, meals to eat, and the ever-present dust of everyday life that dirtied the feet and invaded one’s house.

So we, too, must live out those mundane days of life either clinging to the fading memory of a “burning bush” moment when we heard from God or else desperately longing for another one of those “divine moments” when a light shines out of the heavens or a still, small voice confirms the holy ground of our existence. But in between, there are faucets to fix, garages to clean out, diapers to change, wages to earn, and lunches to make. But we, like the people who tried to keep up with Jesus back and forth across the Sea of Galilee, cry out for higher tasks saying, “What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?” Enough with the diapers, lawn mowing, dish washing; we want to soar with the heavenly eagles.

God is the God of miracles, but He is also the God of the mundane. In fact, if we look at His work of creation, He spent one third of the time bringing order out of chaos and another third of the time just creating the conditions for life. I take great comfort in this, for I spend a lot of my time cleaning, organizing, sorting, and building just trying to bring order out of chaos. And then there is the feeding, washing, watering, and working which provides the essential provisions for life. When we look to “do the works of God,” we really do not need to look any farther than the example of Job, one of God’s obvious favorites. Yes, Job, the farmer, who loved God, hated evil, and raised a lot of kids: exhibit “A” in God’s debate with Satan. May you find these mundane January days imbued with the magic of knowing that in the doing of the ordinary, you may be doing the very works of God.