What God’s Work and Breakfast Have in Common

During one of my morning runs (you know, back when I was doing that thing) I was watching the fog roll across the mountains and thinking about our Sunday School lessons. We were learning about who God is and we started with God the Creator. He made everything and He holds it all together. He inhabits eternity and gives life and breath to all things (Acts 17:25).

I started thinking about how He makes the sun rise every morning. He puts the fog in the air. He makes the baby birds chirp. He makes the seasons rotate- spring, summer, fall, winter without fail just as He promised after the flood (Genesis 8:22). He made each valley and each mountain. He paints every single flower with color. 

Parts of God’s work are as routine as ours. We get up each morning and spend time with Him. We get dressed, make the beds, make the breakfast, clean up the spills, apologize for messing up, forgive others, cook lunch, fold the laundry, change the diapers, take little boys to the potty, push the swings, practice the same piano chords, sit at the keyboard and write again, kiss the husband welcome home, give the baths, tuck children in bed. Then later we collapse into bed and get up to do it all over again. And again. And again. 

Just like God does. The God who gives breath to our bodies and air to our lungs does it with every breath. The same God pumps blood with our hearts and fills the world with sunshine every day. He sends the rain and makes the grass grow. His work is infinite. It’s universal and breathtaking.  But He also does what seems to be mundane by repetition.  The beautiful peonies that bloom for such a short time- all that effort and labor for something no one may see or appreciate and yet they are gorgeous. The sunsets are painted in stunning color every single night. Most people don’t even notice but they are always there. The stars that twinkle- that’s just the few we can see. They spread out in a vastness that’s hard for us to understand. There are wonders in the galaxy that no human will ever see and yet God made them. God sustains them. 

Why do we expect our work to be any different? We also have a work and it’s often repetitive. It feels ordinary. Our wild hearts crave adventure and applause and fame instead of desiring faithfulness to making our world beautiful and sustaining the part of the work that we are to do. 

That breakfast we cheerfully offer every morning because bellies are hungry. That diaper we change with the giggle and game for the precious little boy heart. The hello kiss we save for the husband who has labored in his own part of the work that day. Do they not all beautify our world regardless of how ordinary they seem? 

Over and over, seemingly on repeat, we serve with work that’s not noticed, not applauded. We should do that work with faithfulness and a desire for excellence. God doesn’t skimp on those flowers even though He makes so many and has for so many years. They are all individual works of art. That’s how I want to approach my day: as an individual work of art. What am I putting into today? 

Our work is a pale shadow of what God does. It’s not beneath us to plug away at the ordinary. It’s a fulfillment of our being.