Faith, life, Parenting, relationships, Spiritual Encouragement
Comments 2

The Secret of Insignificance

Sometimes my insignificance astounds me. I am not a prodigy, a prophet, a prolific writer, a philosopher or a poet.

 

I sort the laundry. I plan meals. I run errands and I referee the same fights over and over again.

I sigh.

This morning, while I sipped the first of the day’s coffee, I flipped through the anniversary publication we received in the mail from my daughter’s college. On every page appeared a smiling face and a list of accomplishments. One young man who graduated from Whitworth University (where my daughter is studying English Literature) is now on full scholarship at Harvard to pursue his doctorate. He’s investigating the shape of an electron and writing about it in science digests.

My understanding of an electron is and will always be what I learned in elementary school: an electron is the opposite of a proton; part of an atom (?). I had no idea that it’s shape even mattered!

Another young man and his wife started a non-profit to assist refugees. Another couple donated a few million dollars to an educational endowment.

I’m teaching my nine-year old how to play Go Fish.

I am the masses. I am the crowd. I am the drop in the proverbial bucket. And I don’t even have a bucket list.

I love words, but am too clunky, too uneducated, too realistic to consider myself a poet. I cook everyday, but I am no chef. I weed and water and plant flowers but I am no master gardener. I have studied the Bible for years, but I am not a theologian.

Do you have any twos?

Go Fish.

And I hear a silent reminder in my head: Remember yesterday when you shouted praises?

Oh, yes, I literally shouted praises.

 

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My neighbor at the lake, an octogenarian, and I held a shouting conversation. She sat on her deck chair and I stood beside my unfinished in-the-middle-of-construction deck and we exchanged stories of the provision and miracles of God. 

“God is so good!” She yelled.

“Yes, he is.” I offered loudly. “And we notice his mercy when we are at our neediest, don’t we?”

We told stories of surgeries and doctors and medical miracles. We shouted about the amazing grace that brought us to sitting thirty feet apart, within shouting distance. We smiled at one another from our deck-top posts and enjoyed the fact we know the source of all our joy, all our breath, all our purpose.

My breath, my shouts, my praise, my piddle-y life is, in fact a poem, if I take God’s word to be true. I am, by the extension of creation, a part of the plan God has for this world, rubbing shoulders and shouting praises alongside others who use words and smiles and waves to connect across decks, desks, continents and the internet.

Small? Sure, I’m small. Insignificant? Perhaps not a world-changer. But I can choose to be here, really here to play Go Fish, to grasp hearts with another and shout praises to my one constant, God. 

Sometimes God’s significance astounds me.

And I stand in the floodlight of his import and I hear the whispering Spirit say, “I love you, little one”. And I reply, “I know it. I love you back.”

{Ephesians 3:20-21} “Now glory be to God, who by his mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of—infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes. May he be given glory forever and ever through endless ages because of his master plan of salvation for the Church through Jesus Christ.”

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2 Comments

  1. Wow. Beautiful. Significant to the One it matters most to. Praising Jesus because of your words. Thank you.

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