I stare at the bright white screen that lights up my face in my bunk bed as the rain is gently falling on the tin roof and the fan is set on “1” to keep me from sweating again after my second shower of the day. Nothing. So many thoughts are swirling around in my head, yet none of them are typed.
A new medium: black ballpoint BIC ink pen and a half-used college-ruled notebook that I used for a college class which I obviously didn’t take enough notes in. Nothing. The writer’s block doesn’t budge. Am I allowed to say that? One must be a writer in order to posses the block of writer’s. And while people tell me I’m a good writer; I still don’t quite believe it, especially not right now.
I also don’t feel like a missionary. And yet that’s my title here in Nicaragua and will continue to be my title as I move to Tanzania in January. But I don’t feel like a missionary when I lead my team in another rendition of “Cuan Grande es Dios,” singing in front of the Nicaraguans who don’t look too impressed with the gringo-circus show that is performing for them today.
I think we get caught up in the grandiose, in the spectacular, in the huge, exciting, magical moments of life. I don’t know who is to blame: perhaps social media (no one ever posts about washing dishes, or changing diapers, or simply going to work and sitting in a cubicle), or perhaps it is the tabloids that seem to feature celebrity’s “perfect” lives. Or maybe it’s just our sinful human nature of discontentment.
But where is God in the day-to-day? Where is God in the normal? In the everyday, average, mundane, and boring?
God is there.
Martin Luther asks, “What will you do in the mundane days of faithfulness?” Because, as a missionary, and as a Christian, many days are mundane. Yes, praise the Lord for the days when the woman who has been held captive is freed; when the old, blind man sees for the first time; when the child with the terminal illness is cured. Yes, praise God. But also praise God when laundry is done, when meals are prepared, when miles are walked, hands are held, smiles are shared, and when a sigh is exhaled at the end of what seems like just another day. Praise God.
Dare I say that these mundane days of faithfulness are even more important than the day that, God forbid, we are asked at gunpoint if we follow Jesus Christ? Because in our culture of consumerism, instant gratification, and high divorce rates, faithfulness is a virtue that is all but lost.
In all four gospels, we see examples of faithfulness. First, and foremost, we see faithfulness perfected in the person of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, who was faithful to God to death, even death on a cross (Philippians 2:8). But we also see the virtue of mundane faithfulness displayed in the actions of Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James (and other women mentioned in the Gospels according to Mark and Luke) going to the tomb of Jesus on Sunday morning to anoint his dead, lifeless, cold body (Matthew 28; Mark 16; Luke 24; John 20).
We know the end of the story; whether through having it heard it before or because the section heading before the chapters is entitled, “The Resurrection” or “The Empty Tomb,” the ending is spoiled for us. But for the women who were simply doing their duty, perhaps even just going through the motions, numb from just having witnessed their friend, the one whom they thought would be the Deliverer, be crucified, this was not a day that a miracle was expected. No, for these women, the ending was not spoiled. Mundane faithfulness. And yet, in this routine, difficult, mundane faithfulness, these faithful women were about to be the first witnesses to experience history’s greatest miracle: the empty tomb due to Jesus of Nazareth having been raised from the dead by the One who is ever faithful.
I think this is perhaps when we experience God most: in the day-to-day, long, boring, mundane routines that are done sometimes out of mere duty. So that when we least expect it, God shows up most. For me here in Nicaragua, it looks like leading my team in just one more round of singing the Spanish songs which we hardly understand let alone can pronounce; it looks like leading my team into a posture of intercession for the problems of the world that seem too big for God to fix through our mere prayers; it looks like eating rice, beans, and chicken for just one more meal, thanking our gracious cooks who show us the very definition of faithfulness, cooking three meals a day, seven days a week for us, who must come across as ungrateful sometimes desire our efforts to offer a simple “gracias” following each meal.
Nope. I don’t feel like a missionary most of the time. And yet, this is what I am, this is who I am. God has called me to be here, so here I am. We may not have witnessed anything “spectacular,” “grandiose,” or “magical” in our time here so far, but here we are. Here, trying to live out our days in faithfulness to our Savior who is ever faithful to us. And who knows, maybe we might even come across an empty tomb.
So I ask you, in the words of Martin Luther, “What will you do in the mundane days of faithfulness?”
