For years—decades actually—Margie and I have championed a simple revolutionary idea. It is this. Our primary calling as followers of Jesus is to be faithful in the ordinary and routines of our lives.
It is simple because it doesn’t require a lot of explanation to make sense of it. Even if one finds it unbelievable, it is simple in being understandable. It is revolutionary because in a society that celebrates the breathtaking and extraordinary, the idea brings freedom to be ourselves. To be ourselves as finite, limited creatures. To discover value and God’s pleasure in the most common aspects of our daily existence. If you are like me, being released from needing to achieve something spectacular and dramatic is an enormous relief. The ordinary and routine fits me, is what I was made for. I can achieve ordinary, not extraordinary. I know because I’ve tried.
Margie and I had learned from Francis and Edith Schaeffer that Christ is Lord of all. Lord of all of life and reality—and that means every detail of existence. “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation,” St Paul writes, “for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him” (Colossians 1:15-16).
I remember Schaeffer putting it this way: Imagine isolating all of created reality into a circle. Now, separate out all sin. That shouldn’t be too difficult since the best list of sin contains only ten points. Do that, and all that remains in the circle is not only spiritual, but equally spiritual. Not just pleasing to God but equally pleasing to him when done to his glory as part of faithfulness to our calling as his people.
In this, Schaeffer was following in the footsteps of the Dutch theologian and statesman Abraham Kuyper who asserted, “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is sovereign overall, does not cry: ‘Mine!’”
That’s all fine in theory, someone might say, but it raises two questions.
First question. My ordinary and routine is not just common, it’s small. Tiny, even. Even very tiny. Isn’t that a definition of insignificance? After all, the goal is that God’s kingdom comes, his will is done on earth as it is in heaven. This is a legitimate question, and here is my response. St. Paul told us that “whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” (Colossians 3:17) Which raises the question in turn, how can something be insignificant if it is done faithfully before the audience of One who requested it? I may do humble things, but they are done for my King. The apostle tells us what he prayed when he heard from Epaphras of the vibrant faith of the followers of Jesus in Colossae:
“…since the day we heard it, we have not ceased praying for you and asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of God’s will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so that you may lead lives worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, as you bear fruit in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God. May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.”(Colossians 1:9-12).
There is nothing that hints that only spectacular works are in mind here, but “in every good work,” no matter how ordinary. If God creates, sustains, and ordains our ordinary and calls us to faithfulness, then all thoughts that it is insignificant are from the evil one.
Second question. I can almost never tell if my faithfulness results in good things. Most of the time I try to do the right thing but am unable to see whether my feeble efforts amount to much, that anything comes of it that extends the Kingdom of God. Again, good question, and here is my response. This is why following Jesus is referred to as a walk of faith. My incomplete faithfulness is always lived out within the wider context of God’s faithfulness. “Know therefore that the Lord your God is God,” Moses told the people of God, “the faithful God who maintains covenant loyalty with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations.” (Deuteronomy 7:9) As a matter of fact, I can’t extend or expand God’s kingdom; I can only witness to it and demonstrate its reality and promise and power. That is more than sufficient for me. And, as St Paul argues, even “if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself.” (2 Timothy 2:13) Essential to the mystery that is the Infinite Personal God is the fact that that he is sovereign and has no obligation to inform us of what our efforts produce. And chooses not to in most cases because he delights when we follow him by faith, not by sight. And, truth be told, walking by faith is far more exciting and fulfilling than doing stuff simply because we know it’ll turn out ok. Even robots can live like that. The entire biblical story—Creation, Fall, Redemption and New Creation—testifies that God is faithful, and always will be faithful. Nothing can detract, subvert, or divert his grace and character. Pagan gods, on the other hand, are depicted as changeable. Greek, Roman, and Norse gods change alliances, relationships, and their minds depending on circumstances and whims, love affairs and battles. The result is thrilling for superhero movies, but lousy for human existence and flourishing.
I can be faithful in the ordinary and routine because God remains faithful as Sovereign Lord of all bringing all things to their appointed end in Christ. World without end. Amen.
All of this came to mind recently after I posted something that some pushed back against because they felt I was inappropriately critical of President Trump. What was fascinating about these letters/emails was that the authors assumed they know how I voted, and whose policies I supported in the election. Since I was critical of Trump, I approved of Biden. Suffice it to say they are wrong.
I realize that the politicized, statistical view of voting insists that if I don’t vote for one candidate, I am essentially casting my vote for the opposition. I understand that perspective. But my allegiance is given to a higher reality, and I live in a different kingdom than the empires of this world. My task in the voting booth is this: to prayerfully and to the best of my ability be faithful to my Lord in that moment and trust him for the outcome, about which I need not worry. “The lot is cast into the lap,” Proverbs 16:33 says, “but the decision is the Lord’s alone.” Or as Eugene Peterson translates it in The Message, “Make your motions and cast your votes, but God has the final say.”
I may not be able, in good conscience, to vote for either candidate. Or I may choose to vote for a third-party candidate. Or write in a name. Perhaps because I prefer their agendas. Or to make a statement. In each case, my final consideration is how best to be faithful to my Lord. I may cast a vote for someone who loses. Or wins. That is in the hands of God, whom I trust will be faithful to his world and to his church without my understanding of why he does as he does. But then, that’s the way with all of life. I can almost never comprehend what God is doing. Or why. And how it will turn out for our good and his glory.
In all such things we must beware of hubris, of thinking things depend, finally, on us.
Photo credit: photo taken by the author with his iPhone.
