When the Mundane is Anything But. . .

As I flew home from Africa in July, I read the novel The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.  It is a book about two kids fighting terminal cancer who form a relationship.  They laugh. They cry. They fall in love. It's actually a pretty good book.  When I had been in the plane just a few hours, I ran across a scene that stopped me in my tracks.  There is this beautiful moment in the book where one of the characters--a teenage boy with cancer--is scheduled to have surgery the next day.  So, what's the big deal?  This surgery will take his only good eye and make him blind. So the day before he loses his eyesight, what does he choose to do? Go to his friend's house to play video games.  They just sit there playing video games, acting like nothing is on the horizon. Then, in one moment, it hits.  The boy realizes, or is just unable to hold his emotion any longer, Today is the last day I will be able to do this. Today is the last day I will see the TV and play this game and have life be normal.  And, suddenly, the terror and the anxiety turn into rage.  He begins to scream and throw chairs and wreak havoc on the small room that minutes earlier housed what seemed like a normal day among guy friends.

The mundane became sublime.  The everyday became the day that matters.  

Life is kind of like that really.

When I landed after that trip, I put some hard truths on a shelf, truths that needed to brew and process in my weary soul.  Truths about meeting JP's birth family and how God used a Tuesday afternoon in a small room to steer the events in the life of a child.  

Last Saturday night I was reminded again of God's power in making the ordinary extraordinary in a profound way.

Philip and I were blessed to attend a beautiful wedding--honestly, it was the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended.  The bride and groom were gorgeous, surrounded by other gorgeous recently-graduated fraternity and sorority brothers and sisters.  It also didn't hurt that my friend--the mother of the bride--is a five-star hostess with the Midas touch:  everything she touches in the world of making people feel welcome turns to gold.  But, those things aren't what made the wedding so astoundingly beautiful.

It was the family's invitation to seek the Lord, their fervent prayers that those who attended would see Him.  And, God, in His faithfulness, showed up.   

The wedding was an outside wedding, and as we were seated, the egg-carton sky seemed gray and heavy. Every few minutes the sky released a low rumble, far at first and then closer and closer.  As the bride walked down the aisle to the covered pavilion where her groom waited, I prayed that the Lord would keep the rain at bay until the wedding was over.  What a terrible thing for this lovely wedding to be ruined, I thought.  But, God's loveliness is not my loveliness, and it isn't until I am in the middle of it, that I can see the beauty.

The rain did wait.  And wait. And wait.  The traditional Episcopalian liturgy, though, tested its limits (sorry, my Episcopalian friends. I tell you that I saved a program because the liturgy was so beautiful. I am praying my daughter meets an Episcopalian, so we can use it).  At the exact moment the minister announced that the family would be partaking in Communion, large drops began to fall on the guests.  The mumbles and shuffling grew, and a few guests ran for cover. The mother of the bride and the mother of the groom decided to hide under the pavilion that was already full of a beautiful, and rather large, wedding party.  I am sure they were hoping to protect their dresses, but what happened next was incredible.  The wedding guests slowly filed under the pavilion.  The guests pressed and got closer and surrounded the young couple.

And, there we all stood.  Under cover, with the pitter-patter of rain surrounding us, darkness descending. We began to read the prayers for the couple.  Then, the young woman who hoped to sing with a stringed accompaniment began her solo, a cappella (feel free to click here to listen to the song as you read):

How Deep the Father's Love for Us
How Vast Beyond All Measure
That He Would Send His Only Son
To Make a Wretch His Treasure

How Great the Pain of Searing Loss,
The Father Turns His Face Away,
As Wounds Which Mar the Chosen One,
Bring Many Sons to Glory.

Behold the Man Upon the Cross,
My Guilt Upon His Shoulders,
Ashamed I Hear the Mocking Voice,
Call Out Among the Scoffers

It Was the Sin that Held Him There,
Until It Was Accomplished,
His Dying Breath Has Brought Me Life,
I Know That It Is Finished. 


I Will Not Boast in Anything,
No Gifts, No Power, No Wisdom,
But I Will Boast in Jesus Christ,
His Death and Resurrection 

Why Should I Gain from His Reward?
I Cannot Give an Answer?
But, This I Know With One Accord,
His Wounds Have Paid My Ransom.

She stopped singing.  There was silence, and rain, and the sweet presence of the Savior.  The moment was short:  soon, we all had to get back to our lives.  The wedding party paused, took it all in, and ran in the rain to the reception hall.  We all started the party that would be the celebration of their union.  But, I could tell that moment never really left.  It was evident from the feel, this worshipful undertone that filled the evening. And, something teeny-tiny in me was forever changed by the experience.  

Isn't that how God works? He takes the really hard, the really beautiful, and the really ordinary. And, He shows up.  He chooses to reveal Himself in the moments we least expect Him, and He uses those moments to make teeny-tiny changes in us, chiseling and molding out our very being, until we are in the image of His Son.  He draws us closer through those times we pray won't ever happen, and He says, "I have more for you, my child.  I have Me."  And, we get just a glimpse of His heart for this world and His hope for the next.

I can't wait to worship Him, in a company of saints, as He reunites all that is broken and shows His magnificent power over all of creation.  For now, I have to rest in these moments where I see only a glimpse of the glory that is to come.  If that moment in the rain is any hint, it must be spectacular.