This is written in The Message as the opening to the introduction for Nahum:
The stage of history is large. Larger-then-life figures appear on this stage from time to time, swaggering about, brandishing weapons and money, terrorizing and bullying. These figures are not, as they suppose themselves to be, at the center of the stage – not, in fact, anywhere near the center. But they make a lot of noise and are able to call attention to themselves. They often manage to get a significant number of people watching and even admiring: big nations, huge armies, important people. At any given moment a few superpower nations and their rulers dominate the daily news. Every century a few of these names are left carved on its park benches, marking rather futile, and in retrospect pitiable, attempts at immortality.
The danger is that the noise of these pretenders to power will distract us from what is going on quietly at the center of the stage in the person and action of God. God’s characteristic way of working is in quietness and through prayer. “I speak,” says poet George Meredith, “of the unremarked forces that split the heart and make the pavement toss, forces concealed in quiet people and plants.” If we are conditioned to respond to noise and size, we will miss God’s work and actions.
I’ll let you apply that to whatever you think it is relevant for right now.
It’s beautifully put and eternally applicable. Sure, there are times in scripture when God acts in big ways, but the norm throughout history is the quiet, subversive work of the Spirit that is happening in the ordinary and the mundane of every day. Yet our culture trains us to look for our hope in the big and the fantastical – to be seduced by power, whether it be a politician swaggering about and calling attention to themselves, a vote for something that ‘changes everything,’ a cause that will fix the world, or the latest, greatest ‘outreach’ hope like a big $100,000,000 ark. If our hope is in the big, the powerful and the fantastical, it’s easy to ride a roller-coaster of rising ecstasy as those big things move into center stage, only to then be let down and face the crashing despair when those big things naturally fade into oblivion and turn out not to be all they were cracked up to be.
Right now, in the rhythm of the Christian year we are in what’s known as ‘ordinary time’ with its corresponding liturgical colour, green (life). Ordinary time encourages us to tune into the glimmers of the Spirit in our every day lives. Here in the southern hemisphere this period of time corresponds with winter, and in New Zealand, it”s the longest time of year without a public holiday. It’s a time that can easily become depressing – yet there is ordinary time, encouraging us to see those glimmers of God quietly working away in that which is hardly noticeable by our culture’s standards.
Our hope isn’t in the latest greatest politician trying to grab their moment of immortality, or that next fad thing. Rather, it’s in those things that are hardly seen. It’s in the conversations we have with our neighbours. It’s in that quiet restoration of a garden. It’s in that knowing glance and hint of a smile given to a checkout operator coming to the end of their shift and feeling tired. It’s in that humble one word prayer for help when things aren’t going so well. It’s in that leap of joy a parent gets from their baby’s smile when they’re exhausted because they’ve been up all night feeding. It’s there in that glint of light that hits a bubble when I’m doing the dishes. It’s there in the sense of mystery held in a foggy day… it’s there in everything that hints, very simply, at the presence of truth, beauty, and goodness in a cynical, violent world. It’s there in everything that encourages us to keep going and it’s there in every encouragement we give to others to keep going too.
That beauty to be found in the ordinary; that beauty that’s there if we’re willing to stop being distracted by the noise and seduced by power for a moment, that’s where we learn to truly tune into the Spirit without the need for the drug of power. Let’s recognise it, talk about, celebrate in it, and participate in it. The benefits of doing so are far greater than giving into the seduction of power.