The God of Normal

I am not particularly into movies. Don’t get me wrong—I have seen plenty of movies and loved them, but most of the movies that play in the Wiggins household are animated and intended for children. Even so, I think what people love about movies is their ability to present heightened realities to get lost in. Movies offer a clean, 2–3 hour story filled with comedy, drama, love, and so much more; all perfectly packaged for our viewing pleasure. Famous director Alfred Hitchcock once said that movies are “life with the dull bits cut out.”

The problem is that life isn’t like the movies. Life often feels like it’s made up of just the “dull bits.” Life is sitting in traffic. Life is doing the dishes. Life is picking the kids up from school. Life is catching up on emails after vacation. Life is sitting on hold with customer service. Compared to the movies, life seems incredibly boring.

I listen to a lot of audiobooks, and of all the books I “read” in 2024, the most impactful and challenging was Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life by Tish Harrison Warren. In it, Warren challenges readers to look for God in the mundane parts of life—not just in extraordinary moments. That’s hard for us to do. I think we all long for a burning bush moment like Moses experienced, but the truth is, those moments aren’t the norm. Warren acknowledges this and encourages readers to seek God in the everyday. She writes:

"The kind of spiritual life and disciplines needed to sustain the Christian life are quiet, repetitive, and ordinary."

As we approach a new year, the temptation is to make big plans and have huge expectations for what it will bring. Here’s the thing: maybe it will bring those huge things, but so often, those expectations go unmet, leaving us disappointed. What if, instead, we approached 2025 expecting God to show up, not in the burning bush, but in traffic? What if, instead of seeking something extraordinary, we looked for God in the ordinary? I know it’s not flashy or exciting, but honestly, neither is most of life. Warren writes:

"God made us to spend our days in rest, work, and play, taking care of our bodies, our families, our neighborhoods, our homes. What if all these boring parts matter to God?"

Looking at Scripture, we see that this understanding of the mundane was true of Jesus. When we read the Gospels, we see the incredible few years of Jesus performing miracles and roasting the Pharisees left and right. Those things happened, but sometimes we forget that He lived about 30 years before that, doing things that weren’t extraordinary enough to write about. Warren points out:

"The Word became flesh. The Word went fishing. The Word slept. The Word woke up with morning breath."

Jesus lived 30 years of ordinary time. He worked. He got tired. He was hungry. He had to do chores. Hebrews 4:14–16 tells us that Jesus lived a full human life and can empathize with our feelings and struggles. He knows we long for huge, transformational moments with God. But He is also an excellent example that God forms us just as much in the mundane as in the miraculous. God is present in the extraordinary, but He is also present in the ordinary. Warren adds:

"The new life into which we are baptized is lived out in days, hours, and minutes. God is forming us into a new people. And the place of that formation is in the small moments of today."

In 2025, like most years, I’m sure there will be a few huge, formative moments in your life—but there will be far more normal ones. My encouragement is to look for God in the normal. When we focus only on seeking God in the big moments, we risk missing all the ways He is working every day. Remember, Jesus performed miracles, but He also spent time alone in prayer. We can honor God through our everyday work of being a great mom, teacher, friend, boss, or student. God is with you in your mountaintop moments, but He’s also with you in your car, your kitchen, your laundry room, and your cubicle. If you look for Him, you’ll find Him.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you.

Philip

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