In the Ordinary

I have a confession to make : I am often envious of my husband.

He takes a half a day a week to go to the bush and commune with God and to deliberately quiet his thoughts. He sets aside time to quietly study and read widely so as to grow in the knowledge of God's Word (all a part of the job as a minister!). He goes away a couple of times a year for spiritual retreats with his peer-mentoring group where he rests, has spiritual and pastoral guidance, and sets a vision for the year ahead. And, most recently, he has had the privilege of being in the ACTUAL CHURCH BUILDING each Sunday with fellow ministry leaders to lead, preach, play and produce the live stream service for all of us at home in our lounge rooms. Doesn't all of this sound like divine bliss!?

Meanwhile, others of us* (read: me) are being climbed on by peanut-buttered smeared children asking non-stop for Milos and needing bottoms wiped, whilst hunting for lost Lego pieces and stirring the slow-cooked beef ragu on the stove with an overtired toddler precariously balanced on one hip. Now that sounds like divine chaos!

Don't get me wrong, I make a deliberate effort to find retreat time for myself during the year and have some time alone when I can... but I often arrive at these moments and feel guilty because I just want to sleep and read and eat. My heart sits quietly and listens for God's voice, but it often remains silent and still.

A good friend of mine recently sent me a link to a beautiful reflection that drew my attention to this reality, particularly highlighting this truth also found in scripture. Have you ever noticed how in the scriptures men are always going up into the mountains to commune with the God? Think about it...

Abraham ascends the mountain with his son, Isaac, to prove his faith to God (Genesis 22)

Jacob meets God face to face by the side of a river (Genesis 32)

Moses is called by God to the mountain top to hear the call for his people, Israel (Exodus 19)

Elijah climbs a mountain to hear the still small voice of God. (1 Kings 19)

Jonah has repentant solitude with God in the belly of a fish (Jonah 2)

John the Baptist dwells in the wilderness (Matthew 3)

...and even Jesus himself is led by the Spirit to the wilderness to prepare himself for his ministry (Matthew 4).

Yet in the scriptures we hardly ever hear of women going to the mountains. But we know why - because the women were too busy keeping life going! They couldn’t abandon babies, meals, homes, fires, gardens, and a thousand responsibilities to make the climb into the mountains (as much as they might have wanted to!) Of course, there are many significant women in the Bible of great noteworthiness such as Miriam, Esther, Deborah, Huldah, and Anna the prophetess, but no doubt they too encountered God uniquely in the midst of their lives.

Many millennia later, we find ourselves in a very different culture and context... and yet many women that I walk with in life still feel overwhelmed by the everyday tasks and struggle to grasp a moment of quiet to find space to sit with God.

Christian author, Heather Farrell, responds to this idea with a powerful truth:

“That is why God comes to women. Men have to climb the mountain to meet God, but God comes to women where ever they are.

I have searched my scriptures to see that this is true. God does in deed come to women where they are, when they are doing their ordinary, everyday work.

He meets them at the wells where they draw water for their families, in their homes, in their kitchens, in their gardens.

He comes to them as they sit beside sickbeds, as they give birth, care for the elderly, and perform necessary mourning and burial rites.

Even at the empty tomb, Mary was the first to witness Christ’s resurrection. She was there because she was doing the womanly chore of properly preparing Christ’s body for burial.

In these seemingly mundane and ordinary tasks, these women of the scriptures found themselves face to face with Divinity."

And I know this to be true personally.

Some of my most profound times of worship have been in my kitchen with arms stretched wide.

Some of my greatest encounters with the Spirit has been as I lie beside a feverish child and pray for healing.

Some of my deepest revelations of God's grace has been on my knees in total exhaustion, knowing I can not go on.

Some of the loudest communication of God's voice have come in the dark of the night as I have paced the house with a crying baby.

Some of my surest experiences of God's love has been in the midst of birthing my babies.

And some of the most beautiful moments of Church has been sitting in my lounge room surrounded by other Mummas who are tired, broken, searching, and yearning for God. Here we see the face of God and are transformed by the HOPE that he offers us.

This is the most real, raw and ravishingly divine bliss.

So if — like me — you ever start to bemoan the fact that you don’t have as much time to spend in the mountains with God as you would like, remember that God comes to us, to women. He knows where we are and the burdens we carry. He sees us amidst the chaos and juggling of all the things, and if we open our eyes and our hearts we will see Him, even in the most ordinary places and in the most ordinary things.