The Debris of the Day

As the sun sets and the stars rise I look back at the debris of the day. Small things litter my path and my perspective. Small victories, small defeats; backward tumbles on the path toward maturity.

School assignments and a contrary car alarm
Emails, appointments, and phone calls
The procession of voicemails that infiltrate my day
And at home an endless parade of laundry and bills and to-do’s stand sentry.

It seems I am destined for small things, hidden things; mostly out-of-the-way things; unnoticed and uncared for things that derive their being of the coarser stuff of life. I know this and yet… sometimes it all seems overwhelming. Still, small things often line the path to an unseen glory.

Things like a quiet offer of forgiveness for a wrong suffered
An unspoken sacrifice for the welfare of another
A pot of soup for a sick neighbor or the humble stooping to collect the refuse of another.
Every effort at yielding to the will of Christ is an act of massive, if unseen, proportion.

And so, as I slip into my sheets and the sleep my God has prepared for me, I pray to learn again the ministry of small things; knowing that as I do, the grace of God will bend this will of mine (Titus 2:11-12), molding me into a likeness of the Savior who left me His basin and towel and His example to do likewise. And as He stoops to wash the feet of His disciples (John 13:3-17), I recognize the familiar outline of a will conformed to the will of the Father.

After all, it is against the shadowy backdrop of eternity that we can trace His glory; sketching it, at least for now, in the unadorned outlines of the simple servant’s bow.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s