God’s Gift to You Is Real Life

We’ve all had moments of standing at the sink and wondering why we’re washing yet another load of dishes. The spinning of the hamster wheel is almost palpable. Created as eternal souls in physical bodies, we carry within us a tension between the tangible life of clothing and sustenance and the unseen things that meet our deepest needs as humans.

Generations of the church have often fallen off on one side or the other by elevating physical reality or denigrating it. But what if we reframed our vision to see God actually furthering His kingdom through the ordinary stuff of life?

The Mercies of Earth

God has seen fit to tether even the wisest and most intellectual men and women to earthly bodies with the usual requirements of food, air, exercise, and community. Esoteric theories of philosophers and dreamers have often met a timely end on the rocks of reality, demonstrating to all the watching world that the creature is not above his Creator (Rom. 9:20).

But our Father is never cruel. It is His wisdom that has ordained things in this way for the flourishing of His creatures and His children. He uses the sleepless nights of parents, the bills of counselors, and the marriages of pastors to remind us that none of us is above the very discipline we administer, the counsel we give, or the message we preach. We are all called to sit under the Word and to have its truth applied to our own lives.

Having coworkers with whom to share the gospel and church members with whom to build unity awakens us continually to our utter dependence on God’s grace. Something as simple as sweeping food from under the dining room table can reveal our hearts quite quickly: Am I cleaning up this mess out of a desperate desire for a clean house? Out of frustration because no one else has done it (like Martha in Luke 10:38–42)? Or am I doing this out of love for Jesus and a desire to serve Him in this painfully specific way He has given?

Our own skills, achievements, and even callings can veil areas of sin in our hearts, but the mundanity of life often uncovers these quite well. It’s much easier to do work for which we are regularly recognized or uniquely gifted and mistake personal pride for joy in serving Jesus than it is when we are vacuuming the car or addressing the hearts of siblings at war. Pride (and all other sins) takes what leeway we give it, but our heavenly Father loves us enough to use everyday means of killing toxins in our souls.

Much has been written about the value of the table in the life of the family and hospitality in the role of evangelism. On an even more basic level, the day in, day out care and nourishment of the family is a humble task that shapes the hearts of those within it just as much as the rhythm of their days. More than that, the constant, demanding, physical attention of providing for those under our care enables us to mirror the faithfulness and patience of God in the daily mercies He shows to His children—to us.

From Jesus’ discourse on the truly blessed in His Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5:1–12), we learn that true life comes by dying to worldly definitions of honor. God issues His people a calling to cease pursuing recognition and fame because these things are passing away (1 John 2:15–17). The salvation freely offered to us through Christ’s death demands humility, and in few places are we given the opportunity to enter into this dying more clearly than in the home, where the meeting of spiritual, emotional, and physical needs is the great equalizer of backgrounds, skills, and accomplishments.

Quiet Spheres

If our home, neighborhood, and church are fields given to us to keep, the sowing and watering and tending is an agonizingly slow and tedious process. The way of the kingdom is having gospel conversations after church; it is laundry and conversations with our children; it is relationships with neighbors and sitting down across from the stranger.

The thing is, in the upside-down kingdom of God, jewels of endurance, patience, and faith are often refined in the quietest corners. Humble, out-of-the-way believers at your church might be the richest untapped source of spiritual encouragement to the body: a husband loving perseveringly in a difficult marriage; an adult child caring for a parent on hospice; a parent praying perseveringly for wayward children.

This cultural moment has conditioned us to want tangible rewards. But raising children, loving our spouses, and serving our local church—none of these provide a linear view of progress or accomplishment. Yet God has promised that He is doing His eternal work in and through us (Phil. 2:12–13). The unrecognized spheres in which we serve are perhaps the most important, for here are the front lines of service, of sanctification, and of the work God is doing to raise up generations to His name and glory. In 1 Corinthians 3:5–9, Paul writes:

What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. . . For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building.

Lived Truths

Cutting through our theological training, professional awards, or prodigious reading list, the ordinary demands of life reveal the heart that lies underneath. As we take up the figurative towel to wash one another’s feet, we follow in the footsteps of the Son of God, who laid down glory and rights to serve fallen humanity (Phil. 2:3–8). Should we not joyfully take up the most menial tasks in service to this Master?

Rather than letting resentment build at inconveniences, interruptions, and trivial things that delay our plans or fill our days, let us see these things as opportunities to demonstrate the grace we celebrate with our mouths each Sunday. May the truths we confess, sing, read, and pray work their way into every detail of our lives so that, even in the unseen moments, we might demonstrate His greatness, not our worthiness.