A Devotion for Ordinary Holiness
As I stood on the rocky, sandy soil of what was previously an empty lot, I could feel the spirit of God present in that place. The holiness of God on the move, creating a place of welcome, of shelter, and of promise – promise of what God has done, and the restorative work yet to be done in this place.
An ordinary dirt lot, on an ordinary Tuesday morning – and yet, filled with the holy and powerful presence of God. Dirt and dust swirling in expectation and hope.
The story of Scripture teaches us, over and over again, that there is a hidden holiness which exists in, with and under ordinary things and ordinary people. Water, wine, bread, ashes, and dust --it is these ordinary things that God has chosen to make holy for us. A group of ordinary people gathered to sing and pray, to speak and listen, to eat and drink--an ordinary gathering of ordinary human beings, in the grace of God, becomes the very body of Christ, in ways beyond our understanding and comprehension.
As a community called the church, we tell the stories of Jesus because that’s where the holy stuff is. Not just in General Conferences, or Judicial Committees or legislation, the holy stuff of life happens when a son is welcomed home, where a neighbor is honored and cared for, where a stranger is welcomed, where a crowd is fed, where a guilty person is forgiven, where a woman bent with illness is healed and dances and laughs. The holiness of God is dazzling is its ordinariness and it lies not in our power or wealth or attractiveness or achievement, but the holiness of God is on full display when we come close enough to another person to see their humanity and not turn away.
The ordinary stuff of life – the dust and the dirt and the bread and the water – which reveal God’s holiness and presence with us, also remind us that God is God, and we are not. We will die and return to the earth, the sun will rise and set, and God will reign over it all.
Which brings us to Lent. Today, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the season of Lent, the 40 days (not counting Sundays) before Easter used for personal reflection and spiritual growth.
We begin this holy season by remembering our need for repentance, and for the mercy and forgiveness proclaimed in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In doing so, we are marked with the sign of ashes, an ancient sign, pointing to the frailty and uncertainty of human life, and marking us as broken people in need of God’s redemption.
The story of Scripture teaches us, over and over again, that there is a hidden holiness which exists in, with and under ordinary things and ordinary people. Water, wine, bread, ashes, and dust --it is these ordinary things that God has chosen to make holy for us. A group of ordinary people gathered to sing and pray, to speak and listen, to eat and drink--an ordinary gathering of ordinary human beings, in the grace of God, becomes the very body of Christ, in ways beyond our understanding and comprehension.
As a community called the church, we tell the stories of Jesus because that’s where the holy stuff is. Not just in General Conferences, or Judicial Committees or legislation, the holy stuff of life happens when a son is welcomed home, where a neighbor is honored and cared for, where a stranger is welcomed, where a crowd is fed, where a guilty person is forgiven, where a woman bent with illness is healed and dances and laughs. The holiness of God is dazzling is its ordinariness and it lies not in our power or wealth or attractiveness or achievement, but the holiness of God is on full display when we come close enough to another person to see their humanity and not turn away.
The ordinary stuff of life – the dust and the dirt and the bread and the water – which reveal God’s holiness and presence with us, also remind us that God is God, and we are not. We will die and return to the earth, the sun will rise and set, and God will reign over it all.
Which brings us to Lent. Today, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the season of Lent, the 40 days (not counting Sundays) before Easter used for personal reflection and spiritual growth.
We begin this holy season by remembering our need for repentance, and for the mercy and forgiveness proclaimed in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In doing so, we are marked with the sign of ashes, an ancient sign, pointing to the frailty and uncertainty of human life, and marking us as broken people in need of God’s redemption.
In her poem, The Summer Day, Mary Oliver admits,
“I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
“I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
I resonate deeply with this concept: prayer is paying attention.
That could be for us the work of Lent this year: to learn to pay attention. To pray that the Holy Spirit might open our eyes to the holiness that lies behind the ordinary around us and in us, to invite the Spirit to show us, who Jesus really is and what he means to us.
If we pay attention, we might come to see that our communities are holy. We might come to know that our world is holy, that God fills every inch of it. We might come to know that we are holy, that God dwells not in a building but in us. We might come to know that our neighbor is holy, the place where we are most likely to meet and to serve the God of the ordinary, the God of dirt and dust, the One who has cleared the path and lot before us, that we might know wholeness and new life.
With you,
Chaplain Amy
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