“All that you touch
Sara is traveling to Berkley to begin the early phases of her ministry. Prophets are being laid to rest. Johnsonburg Camp is creating new projects and initiatives. Grants are being awarded to fund intentional community start-ups. Kristen is going to farm in Colorado. New sources of water hidden under earth’s crust are being researched. Everything is changing. Cathy’s ministry is expanding to address other needs in Waynesburg. Recent college grads are searching for programs that wed faith, service, and a direct confrontation of social injustices. Elizabeth is making roots in New Orleans. The miracles are countless…
During my second year of seminary I had a powerful learning moment in the “Preaching and Worship” class all MDiv students are required to take. We were bouncing ideas off of each other and trying to gain substance for the first sermon of the semester. The text was 1 Kings 17:7-16, the story of Elijah and the Widow of Zarephath. In these verses the traveling prophet is commanded to visit a Widow, with a small child, as she attempts to survive drought and famine. In this text, Elijah asks for hospitality, just a little bit of water and a small bite to eat. The woman kindly refuses, reminding him with each request that she and her son are near death; there is nothing to give.
“All that you Change
By the time this small group discussion took place we had each read this chunk of verses many times. So many times that it was becoming difficult for some of us to know what we would like to focus on. One of my friends was sharing his thoughts on the text. He stated that he was having a difficult time finding inspiration. ‘This miracle is just so mundane,’ he said. And there it was…the lesson to last several lifetimes.
Think about the miracles we’ve been taught to respond to with oooh’s and aaah’s. From the wisdom texts to the tear-jerking stories on the news, we expect miracles to be wrapped with thunder and lightning, glowing figures and levitations, new body parts and full bank accounts. These are life-changing experiences, the ones that books are written about then turned into movies. But, fireworks don’t always accompany miracles. Often, the miraculous moments in life are rather mundane—at least by comparison to the stories we know through film and novel.
This trip has been an intense reminder of the frequency with which mundane miracles occur. First year camp counselors, right out of high school, are helping 9 and 10 year olds with their first week away from home. Lasting impressions are being made. Holmes Farm is teaching kindergartners about the importance of healthy eating, connecting them with soil by teaching them to space carrots and plant delicious varieties of lettuce. We’ve driven over 1,000 miles and have not received any damages. All the while hearing more amazing stories of how people have helped lift and love hundreds of others by making simple, but authentic, decisions throughout their life. Our hosts have been warm, generous, and have shown us nothing short of love.
“The only lasting truth
It is true that not everyone has the luxury to sit and count, or at all consider, the mundane miracles that occurred in their life today. But for those of us who do have this benefit, we are wise to glean a deeper lesson from the power of mundane miracles. That is, our conditioned way of recognizing and naming “true” miracles is one that limits us from seeing every interaction as a Divine one. Each hand shake, each wave into traffic from the car behind, the simple smile that led to a free sandwich, the eye contact and head nod that changed your morning commute…all miraculous. We can’t know how living authentically will matter for the person who sees us living our truth. Perhaps it’s not important for us to know that such an impact is made at all. The more powerful thought to sit with is that by living truth, by seeking, questioning, loving, and dwelling in gratitude, we actively participate in the greatest network of human life. Never fully knowing how a simple decision might change the life of the next person we meet.
May every decision you make leave a residue that inspires love for the one that follows.
*The quotes between paragraphs are taken from Octavia Butler’s “Parable of the Sower”. Please read it and be enriched.