Sacred Mundane: The Blog

There once was a husband and wife. They had a simple life together, and were happily married. They spent time together doing the normal routines of life, and felt very content.

One day, the woman was out with some new girlfriends, who were talking about an exotic vacation they’d taken with their husbands. It sounded super romantic and exciting, and the ladies were gushing about how amazing it had been.

The wife went home, and her house seemed a bit more drab than before. Her husband arrived home and greeted her with his usual warm smile and hug, but she wistfully looked past him, still thinking of the romantic vacation she’d heard about that day. She silently mused while she cooked dinner, “Why doesn’t he take me on an exciting vacation?” That night on their evening walk, she seemed disinterested and discontent. Her husband was patient, giving her space, content to wait until she was back to herself again.

He always wrote her notes. Throughout their whole marriage he’d written her a simple note each day, reminding her of his love for her. Before, she’d enjoyed seeing these notes each day, and she’d read and re-read them, grateful.

Now, she found herself ignoring them, eager to find out more about the exciting, romantic escapades these other couples had. She found herself following their Facebook pages, thumbing through their photos, enamored with their experiences.  She read more about these exotic locales, and what sorts of vacation packages they offered couples. She noticed that their husbands always looked well-dressed and handsome, smiling and laughing. She began to spend more time with these women and ask them more about their intriguing lives. The other women loved the attention, so happy for the affirmation that they were doing marriage right. They talked about their exciting bedroom-experiences, about their glamorous date-nights, the goose-bump romance they experienced all the time. Nothing about their words was wrong, but the woman always left feeling like she must be missing out on something more. 

She also found herself increasingly critical and discontent with her husband. Each night, he’d come home, eager to spend time with her doing their simple nightly routine. He soon realized his notes to her were going unread. She started suggesting he dress different. She suggested he go on a diet. She also seemed anxious about her own appearance and unhappy with their life. She started dressing like the other women, and mimicking their hairstyles and mannerisms. Plus, she wouldn’t stop obsessing over those exotic vacation experiences.

“Why don’t you ever take me to fancy restaurants? Why don’t we have wild, passionate sex all the time? Why don’t we take exotic vacations and have romantic goosebumps experiences all the time? What’s wrong with us? I wish we had a marriage like those other people do.”

The husband, ever patient, wept over her words and the sadness in his wife’s heart. He pleaded with her:

“I love you. I want you. I want you more than an experience. I want you more than a spectacular encounter with you. I love you more than anything. You’re my bride. Perhaps someday we’ll enjoy something spectacular together, but more than anything I just long for us to love each other for who we are.” 

He looked her in the eye and asked,

“Do you want me or  do you want an certain experience that involves me? I long to be loved, just like you do, for who you are, not simply for your potential for giving me a certain experience.”

His words cut, but helped her see clearly. Though it was hard, she knew what she needed to do. Those friends weren’t evil, but they just weren’t helpful to her. Their experiences were simply that. Their experiences.

She unfollowed their pages. She kindly declined invitations. She pulled away from all influences that took away from her pure love for her husband. She quit comparing her experiences to others, she quit comparing her husband to theirs. She immersed herself in the truth about how GOOD her husband was to her, and how kind, gentle, and loving he had always been. Of course, she would still welcome an exciting experience together, but she found herself so overwhelmed with love for him, that that was enough.

The anthem of her heart toward her husband was, “You are enough for me.”

Over their lifetimes, they experienced both excitement and sorrow. They were able to enjoy a beautiful vacation to Hawaii, and even splurged for a few date nights out on the town. But the beauty was that those things were no longer what she sought. She just sought him. And so, she stayed by him even during trying years, when there was no money for exciting vacations, when times were hard.

And finally, in the end, when he was aged and needed full-time care, she was able to faithfully love him to the end, even when it was hard, even when it was painful, even when there was a cost. The years of faithful devotion during ordinary days had forged a bond so sure that nothing could jeopardize their love.

It lasted forever.

“This mystery is great, but I am speaking with reference to to Christ and the Church.” Eph. 5:32

{Thanks for reading.}

I shared on Friday about my experience hearing from God, through Kat.

Well, just a few days later, we were hundreds of miles away from there, visiting family in Arizona. The first morning there, I went out for my usual walk. I was praying about all that I’d been processing over the past few months. On the one hand, this freedom from Mystic was really shaking things up. I knew I was to no longer just seek experiences with God, but to seek God. But with that, I also wanted to be careful that I didn’t swing too far the other direction, that I didn’t neglect walking by the Spirit and responding to the Spirit, that I would stay sensitive to God’s voice, no matter how quiet or unspectacular. Kat had taught me how profoundly we can impact people when we simply and gently relay God’s heart, words, and love to people in a supernatural way.

So that morning, as I went on my walk, I saw her: An elderly lady shuffling along with a walker. She looked up, smiled, and waved. I smiled and waved back and wondered if I should stop and talk to her, or pray for her, but it seemed weird so I just kept walking.

Forty minutes later, on my way back, I turned the corner and there she was again, this time sitting down on a park bench. This time I knew I could easily walk up to her and just say hello and be kind and friendly. So, as I walked toward her, I silently prayed, “God, give me your heart for her. Give me your love for her.”

And immediately, I heard it so crystal clear in my heart: “She’s lost a son.”

Oh. Of course immediately I felt for her, compassion and so sorry for what she must have suffered. But I also felt a tad nervous–was it weird to ask a lady a question like that? But I knew God wanted to use this word of knowledge to show her His love, to show her that He cared enough about her to tell someone else about her pain.

“Hi there.” It was bright so I came and kneeled down on the grass in front of her so I could look up into her eyes. Her name was Marie, and we chatted a little bit, about the sunshine and how nice it was to be able to walk.

“Marie, may I ask you a question.” She said yes.

“Did you lose a son?” 

Her face immediately grew sad. “Yes,” she responded. “He was only 19 years old. I miss him so much every day. Life is good but I feel so sad every day. I miss him.”

I hugged her.

“I’m so sorry, Marie. I can’t imagine how awful that would be. I just want you to know that God loves you so much that He told me about your son, so that I could come over here and hug you and pray for you. Can I pray for you?”

She beamed and said yes. We talked a bit more about her son, and I noticed the “I love Jared” pin on her hat. Yes, she said, Jared was her son. I prayed for her, and we talked awhile longer, able to instantly speak of hard things, deep things, real things. It’s amazing how simple it is to go from chit-chat to deep-down heart-stuff when there’s a word of knowledge from God that instantly brings everything to the surface.

Eventually, I left. We hugged several times, and the whole ordeal was over. I went back home and began doing my day–making breakfast, folding laundry, doing our usual routine. But I was different. I was touched by Marie, by her joy in the midst of sorrow, and by how good our God is that He’d be willing to speak to me, in order to encourage us both.

Two days later, I ran into Marie again. We talked more about her son, about our good God. We hugged, like old friends, and I asked if I could take a photo of us. She beamed. Yes.

And so Marie and I are friends, because God cared enough to speak and show His love for us both.

{Thanks for reading.}

The session had just ended, so we were filing out of the aisle, ready to exit the auditorium, along with the 2,000 other people attending the conference, when she timidly approached me with a smile. Her eyes were kind, and she seemed shy and a bit nervous too.

“Could I share something with you?”

We stepped out of the way of the crowd. She shifted on her feet, explaining, “I really don’t have anything profound to say, and I’m not very good at this, I’m just trying to be obedient to God.” I smiled and encouraged her that she didn’t need to say anything profound, I was up for anything she had to share! She slowly began,

“Well, these past two days I’ve been watching you, you and your husband here with your kids, and I feel like God wants me to tell you something.”

I was all ears.

And then she spoke, the simplest sentence of encouragement, but as soon as I heard it something broke inside and I just wept. It was exactly the affirmation my heart needed, that only God could know that I needed, exactly the word that lifted my weary heart and affirmed the mundane worship I offer to Him each day. 

She went on with other things, and prayed for me, which was so kind and thoughtful. I could tell she truly cared about me, I could feel the Father’s love through her. I went home tear-stained, but full and encouraged. Sure, the conference had many famous speakers standing on the stage, some of which traveled across the world just to be there, but the most powerful words for me were from the mouth of a simple, timid girl who was willing to walk across the room, to risk, in order to show me God’s love. 

I typed an email to some friends, sharing my experience, and wrote, “this experience encouraged me that often the greatest moves of the Spirit are simple, quiet, ordinary. And that He can use simple, ordinary people, just like us, to tremendously encourage others. I want to be like Kat.” 

Often we think of prophecy, or words of knowledge (1 Cor. 12:8), as spectacular and dramatic, and perhaps they sometimes are. But my experience with Kat inspired me even more to listen carefully for His voice in the midst of ordinary life. It might be ordinary me, or ordinary you, who God wants to use to profoundly encourage someone today.

In fact, I would see this play out just a few days later … More on Monday. Thanks for reading!}

I mentioned before that one of the key things that broke free when Mystic left was judging things by outward appearance.

Strangely enough, this epiphany came clearly through a simple conversation about a professional basketball team. A friend of mine was going to a game with her extended family, and she was explaining that they had box-seats and some fun luxuries to enjoy during the game.

“Oh wow, they have box seats?” I inquired.

She paused and smiled, “Well, you know, he owns the team.”

Haha! Ah yes! I had completely forgotten who this particular relative was. He owns this professional basketball team. Yeah, so, he can probably sit wherever he wants.

The thing is, before the fast I had often been discouraged because our church congregation (or Bible study, or retreat participants, or whoever) haven’t seemed “receptive” enough. They didn’t have enough enthusiasm. They didn’t look excited. What’s wrong with these people?  Why weren’t they more demonstrative? I compared the scenario to a professional sporting event, where people are screaming and cheering and willing to make fools of themselves to cheer for their team. Why weren’t these congregants like cheering fans?! Why weren’t they willing to show some enthusiasm? Surely the most committed fans were the ones making the most noise.

Right?

The picture of my friend’s relative brought this into perspective. The truth is, No, you cannot tell the committed fans by who screams the loudest. A painted chest speaks of enthusiasm, to be sure, but it doesn’t necessarily speak of commitment. It doesn’t necessarily speak of faithfulness. It simply speaks that that person enjoys very visible displays of affection. Obviously the owner of the team has made MUCH more of a commitment to the team. He has invested deeply in the team.

He is, you might say, the biggest fan.

And he might actually be very quiet. Or not. That’s his personality. His commitment, his devotion, his faithfulness and loyalty is separate from his personality.

Certainly, our relationship with God should and will affect our emotions, anything we truly love will impact every part of our being. But as outsiders looking in, who are we to judge a person’s commitment based on the volume of their voice?

Jesus is looking for followers, not fans. 

The same crowd that shouted Hosanna! shouted Crucify Him! just a few days later. We needn’t scream our heads off, paint our chests, or worry our little heads with whether or not we or those around us are demonstrative enough. This certainly doesn’t not condone a passionless or apathetic response to Christ. Exactly the opposite! Jesus calls us to something so much greater than shouting contests. He calls us to leave our lives—everything—behind and follow Him. Only He knows the level of our commitment. Let’s invest our all, and the decibel of our devotion will be heard in heaven, by the One whose opinion matters most. 

{Thanks for reading.}