Are You Looking for Everyday Miracles?

“But if I were you, I would appeal to God; I would lay my cause before him. He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted.” (Job 5:8-9 NIV)

Have you ever driven home, taking a familiar route, then arrived at your house and realized you had no recollection of the drive? It’s unsettling not to remember your commute, but it’s also quite common. Our brains are working and alert during these drives, but we don’t notice time passing because the experience is routine. New stimuli on our commutes, such as taking a detour or witnessing an accident, interrupt the autopilot of our brains and make the trip more memorable.

I had an experience recently that interrupted my usual routine in the best of ways. Taking my regular route to the grocery store, I noticed a large object in the road on the horizon. As I approached, I recognized the object as an enormous bird standing in the road. I live in the country, so seeing large hawks, cranes, herons, and turkeys is just part of daily life. Just as my car crested the hill and got closer to the bird, it opened its immense wings and soared into a nearby tree. I audibly gasped and hit the brakes. A bald eagle had just taken flight a few feet from my car.

Bald eagles live in Michigan, but I had never seen one so far south or so close up in the wild. This chance encounter with nature’s majesty rewired the rest of my day. I told my husband, kids, and neighbors all about my sighting. I drove extra slowly and alertly on my return trip, hoping to see the mighty bird again. When I was a child, bald eagles were on the endangered species list. Seeing one thriving in the wild now felt like an everyday miracle.

It’s not just our commuting that goes on autopilot. Much of our lives are routine tasks, repeated daily, weekly, or monthly. Routine is a good thing in many ways. It helps establish healthy habits and rituals in our lives. However, routine also tends to lull us into a state of familiarity where we can neglect keeping our eyes open for wonder.

I love reading about the miracles performed by Jesus in the Gospels. I try to imagine my reaction if I would have been at the wedding drinking the wine that was formerly water or watching a lame man pick up his mat and walk (John 2:1-12). Extraordinary miracles like this still happen today. Cancer patients receive clear scans before treatment begins. People thought to be dead breathe again, thanks to lifesaving technologies. But when our eyes are only open to the extraordinary events, we can miss the everyday miracles.

The fact that you are reading this right now is an everyday miracle. The way nerves and muscles in our eyes take in light and images, then send them through a chain of nerves to our brains, which make sense of the characters on a screen, is truly remarkable when you think of it. The specificity and complexity of the natural world are one of the significant arguments Christian apologists make for the existence of a divine creator. I have witnessed a few big miracles in my life, but the everyday miracles add up as well to make a portfolio of events that points directly to God.

I want to be awake to the everyday miracles. I want to notice the way my husband’s arms feel around me and realize the miracle that we found each other in a world of nearly seven billion people. I want to see the way eyelashes surround my baby’s eyes, dense and lush, when I kiss him goodnight. I want to notice the sweet, tart taste of a cherry tomato bursting when I bite into it. I want to feel the cold, crisp air of winter take my breath away and sting my cheeks, and marvel at the slow and steady change of seasons. I want to be awake to see the sun coming over the horizon in the morning and dipping low in a swirl of color at the end of the day, knowing I can trust it will repeat its path tomorrow.

Modern life is full of everyday miracles. Let’s be a people who look for God’s miracles in the ordinary and celebrate the impossible: that God chose us as beloved, died for us, and is revealing himself and his grace to us every day. Watch and wait in wonder.

Lord, the work of your hands is unfathomable. You have created the vast universe and every speck of sand it contains. Help us to see the world with your eyes, as a miraculous creation revealing your love and creativity. Give us fresh eyes to see you when we are weary or stuck. Open our hearts to the incredible work you are doing in us, through us, and around us. Amen.

Scripture for Reflection

“I am the LORD, the God of all mankind. Is anything too hard for me?” (Jer. 32:27 NIV)

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.” (Eph. 3:20-21 NIV)

“God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that even handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched him were taken to the sick, and their illnesses were cured and the evil spirits left them.” (Acts 19:11-12 NIV)

Reach for More

One of the best ways we can be attentive to the work of God in our lives is by recording where we see him at work. Reflect on the big and small miracles you have seen in your life. Thank God for what he has done and continues to do in your life. Keep a journal on your nightstand or download an app such as Presently to help you keep track of the everyday miracles you see. Share your ordinary miracles with us on social media using the hashtag #tgtreachformore.

Lindsay Hufford is a small-scale farmer, home educator, chicken chaser, kitchen dancer, and mediocre knitter. Her favorite things include spending time with her family, exploring the natural world, reading, eating spicy food, and singing loudly in the car (to the embarrassment of her children). Lindsay believes sharing our stories will change the world. She writes about farming, homeschooling, faith, mental health, sobriety, and living an unconventional life. You can follow her adventures at peckandpetalfarm.com.

Photograph © Mathew Schwartz, used with permission