Let’s be honest for a minute. While raising children is never an easy task, the life of our family in San Diego right now feels pretty routine and commonplace. It feels a little too commonplace, a little too humdrum. It feels…dare I say…boring. But boring isn’t a pretty word and comes across as ungrateful and Christians aren’t supposed to say ungrateful things, especially during the month of November, so we’ll mask the ugliness that word projects with something a little more gentle around the edges; our family life feels mundane.
Those of you who know my heart know I’ve been do-si-doing around this mental mountain for years. In college the possibilities to serve God seemed vast and exciting. Immediately after Nate and I got married we moved to South Eastern Africa and taught as missionaries. Every day was dripping with the reminder of God’s provision as we were caked both in dirt and the remembrance of Jesus’ vibrancy in others. Every day was also filled with disappointments and frustrations and spiders in our bed.
By contrast, our lives here in San Diego feel too easy. Too comfortable. Too absent of depending on people and God and too expected. Without trial it is hard to recognize triumph, hard to remember victory.
Now we have a new mission. Physically it is harder to live in Africa, but keeping our right perspectives here in San Diego requires much more of my heart and much more of my mind. Here our new challenge is to honor God in our routine. To remember God in our humdrum. To be grateful in the boring.
I’m not there yet, but I’ll read this Chesterton quote as many days, as many times a day as needed to help me inch along this new mission.
But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore.
I’m hoping that tomorrow we can live like it is a theatrical encore of gratitude and adventure. And the day after that. And the day after that. And…you get my drift.