Wherever You Are Today, God is There Too
A few years ago, some friends and I took a train from London to Edinburgh. It was spectacular. It most definitely had major Harry Potter vibes, and by major, I mean I was on a train leaving from London and there were people and food and even windows. So, yes, exactly like the Hogwarts Express.
It was one of those life moments when I knew it was special as it was happening. As I looked at the English countryside passing by out the window, my mind was quiet enough to hear the gentle whisper, You’ll want to pay attention to this. In God’s deeply intimate knowledge of me, he knew I’d want to soak up every second of this train ride. It was a dream coming true, and he gave me the eyes to see it and the heart to hold it. It was a holy moment.
It was a holy moment because God was there with me.
But guess what? My life is not lived on trains from London to Edinburgh. That was a very un-ordinary moment. Most of my life is lived in very ordinary moments. I live an ordinary life filled with ordinary things like grocery shopping and walking the dog and having a friend over for coffee.
My life is lived at this window, in North Carolina—the one I’m looking at now as I type this.
For two hours of my life, I looked out a window to see the English countryside dotted with sheep. Sheep, y’all. Real British sheep! That was for two hours. And yet how many hours of my life have I lived in front of this window? So many. And what do I do in front of this window? I sit. I read. I write. I talk to friends. I play with the dog. I cry. I laugh as I watch Netflix on the couch. Those are all marks of where my real, actual life is lived. I wouldn’t watch Netflix on a train to Edinburgh. That’s not where my normal life is lived.
I’m recognizing that life is beautiful and holy and sacred in both places. My life is just as sacred at home as when I’m adventuring the Highlands of Scotland. What makes it sacred? Not the place. Not the view. Just these two things: God and the present. God in the present. The present moment is sacred because the present is where God dwells. Wherever my present moment is lived, that’s where God is. That’s sacred and holy ground.
If God isn’t limited by time, place, or the view outside my window, that means He meets me wherever I am. Every moment, however ordinary, is an opportunity for a holy moment.
God’s glory isn’t limited to the spectacular moments of my life. I don’t need British sheep or a mountain outside my window to meet with God. Those things are nice, added bonuses every once in a while, but those things aren’t necessary for the appearance of God or me recognizing God in the moment with me. The trees outside my window will do just fine.
Just as my heart was attuned to the holiness of the un-ordinary moment as I was on the train, Jesus is teaching me to attune my heart to the holiness of moments that are completely ordinary, too. Like sitting in a chair in front of my window and noticing the sunlight through the trees. Like doing the dishes or walking down a grocery store aisle. These are all ordinary moments that become holy as I recognize God’s presence in them and meet him there.
I live my life here, in front of my window and the places around it. Wherever here is for you, be there. Then trust God to meet you there.
To meet you in your ordinary life, as you do your ordinary life things.
Jesus said, “Behold, I am with you always . . .” (Matthew 28:20, ESV). Always includes train rides to Edinburgh, and it also includes standing at the kitchen sink. Always includes Great Commission big moments, and it also includes ordinary life small moments.
Whatever your today holds—He’s there. Whatever your today brings—He’s there holding you.
What are you doing today? Do you see God there, do you know He’s there with you? He’s longing to meet with you in the life you’re living, the life you’re living as you read these words. Take a moment to pause and remind yourself that yes, He’s here now, here with you. Whether today holds big moments or small moments, He’s with you always. That’s a promise.
this article was originally published on Her View From Home