Category: Faith

Honest reflections on Scripture, faith, and the everyday adventure of trying to follow God.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

I Know Who I Am

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I’m going to be preachy here.

Very preachy.

Because there is something I hear often in the church that has started to bother me: “I’m just a sinner saved by grace.”

I understand what people mean when they say it. Usually, it is intended to be humble. We are acknowledging that we didn’t save ourselves, that we didn’t earn our salvation, and that we desperately needed God’s grace.

I agree with all of that.

But I don’t agree with identifying myself as a sinner anymore.

I am saved by grace.

There is a difference.

I Know Who I Was

I was a sinner.

I have absolutely no problem saying that. I know who I was. I know what I’ve done wrong, the mistakes I’ve made, and the ways I’ve failed. Trust me, I’m not confused about my imperfections. I may very well be one of the most imperfect people I know.

But my imperfections are not my identity.

When I placed my faith in Jesus Christ and was born again, something changed.

Second Corinthians 5:17 says in the NLT, “This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!”

The old life is gone.

A new life has begun.

So why would I continue introducing myself by the old one?

I Am a New Creation

This is where I think we sometimes get stuck.

We know we’re saved, but we continue thinking of ourselves primarily as sinners who happen to be saved.

But Scripture tells me I am a new creation in Christ.

That doesn’t mean I’m perfect. It doesn’t mean I never sin or won’t make another mistake tomorrow. I absolutely will. I still need Jesus every single day.

If you need the reminder that following Jesus doesn’t require becoming Super Christian Wonder Woman, I’ve written about that, too.

But there is a difference between committing a sin and identifying as a sinner.

I can fail without making failure my identity. I can stumble without deciding that stumbling is who I am. I can need forgiveness without believing that my past has the authority to define me.

Jesus changed that.

Jesus Paid for Sin Once and for All

And this is where grace gets even more beautiful.

Hebrews 10:10 tells us that we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all time.

Jesus didn’t pay for the sins I had committed up until the day I accepted Him and then leave me responsible for figuring out the rest. His sacrifice was more than sufficient.

First John 1:7 tells us that the blood of Jesus, God’s Son, “cleanses us from all sin.”

All.

That includes my past sin. It covers the things I still fail at today and the things I will do tomorrow that I haven’t even messed up yet.

Now, that doesn’t give me a license to sin. Quite the opposite. It makes me want to live differently.

Grace Is Not a License to Keep Sinning

Let’s be very clear about this because I know exactly where someone’s mind could go.

If Jesus has paid for all my sin, does that mean I can just do whatever I want?

No. Absolutely not.

Romans 6:1-2 addresses this very idea. Paul asks whether we should keep sinning so that God can give us more and more grace. His answer is essentially, of course not.

Grace isn’t permission to live however I want.

Grace is the reason I want to live differently.

When I understand what Jesus has done for me, I don’t want to casually walk back into the things He rescued me from. I want holiness. I want obedience. I want my life to look different because my heart has been changed.

I Want to Live From the Throne Room

This is why the phrase “living from the throne room” means so much to me.

Ephesians 2:6 tells us that God raised us up with Christ and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus.

That is an extraordinary statement.

I’m not saying I’m God. I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’m not saying I deserve anything. I’m simply saying that because of Jesus, I have access to God.

Hebrews 4:16 tells us that we can approach God’s throne of grace with confidence so that we can receive His mercy and find grace when we need it.

So I don’t want to spend my life standing outside the throne room thinking, I’m just a sinner. I’m not good enough. I don’t belong here.

Jesus says otherwise.

The door is open.

Come in.

Receive mercy.

Receive grace.

And then go live differently.

Holiness Is a Daily Choice

Living from the throne room doesn’t mean sitting back and doing nothing. It means allowing my relationship with God to transform the way I live.

I read my Bible because I want to know Him. I study Scripture because I want to understand what He says. I pray because I want an active relationship with my Father, not a Sunday-morning relationship with Him.

I worship, repent, listen, learn, serve, forgive, and try again when I fail.

I ask God to show me the places in my life that don’t look like Him. And when He shows me something, I don’t want to defend it with, “Well, I’m just a sinner.”

No.

I’m His daughter.

And because I’m His daughter, I want to become more like Him.

That’s the difference.

I Am Not Perfect. I Know That.

Please don’t misunderstand me.

I’m not walking around thinking I’ve arrived. I haven’t. I’m a work in progress. I’m imperfect. Sometimes spectacularly so.

There are days when I get it right and days when I get it very, very wrong. I still lose my patience. I still say things I shouldn’t. I still have attitudes I need to surrender. I still have areas where God is working on me.

I still need repentance.

I still need grace.

I still need Jesus.

But I don’t need to call myself a sinner to acknowledge any of that.

I can say, “I failed.”

I can say, “I sinned.”

I can say, “I need forgiveness.”

And then I can get back up.

Because my failure is an event.

It is not my identity.

I wrote more about this in Grace For Failure Days, because sometimes failure gets much louder than the truth.

I Know Who I Am Because I Know Whose I Am

This is really what I want us to take away.

I don’t want to identify myself by what Jesus came to save me from. I want to live from what He has done for me.

I was a sinner. I’ve been saved by grace. I am a now new creation.

I am His daughter.

And I’m still growing.

Those things can all be true at the same time.

I don’t need to pretend I never fail in order to know who I am. I simply need to believe what God says about me.

Because words matter.

Identity matters.

And I don’t want to keep introducing myself as someone defined by sin when Jesus has given me a new life.

I know who I was. I know what I’ve done. I know how imperfect I am.

But I also know what Jesus has done.

And because of Him, I know who I am.

I am saved by grace, and I am learning every day to live from the throne room of God, pursuing holiness not because I’m trying to earn His love, but because I already have it.

And that, my friends, is worth being preachy about.

A Little Encouragement for You

If you’ve been carrying an identity built around your past, your failures, or the things you wish you could undo, I hope you’ll take a moment today to remember who you are in Christ. You are not defined by your worst moments. You are His.

What would change in your life if you began living from that truth?

Posted in Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through The Bible: Deuteronomy

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I keep a journal that I write in daily. Nothing fancy – just my thoughts, what’s happening in my life, or whatever happens to be on my mind at the moment.

Every once in a while, I like to go back and read it. Sometimes, I can see how far I’ve come on certain journeys. Other times, I realize I’m still stuck in places I thought I had already moved beyond. But either way, looking back has become a useful tool for helping me move forward.

In a lot of ways, Deuteronomy felt like that to me.

As I read it, I felt like I was sitting beside Moses while he looked back over everything Israel had experienced. He knew his time on earth was coming to an end. God had already told him that he would not enter the Promised Land. Yet Moses didn’t simply walk away. Instead, he spent his remaining time reminding Israel who God was, what God had done, and what they needed to remember after he was gone.

So, as I finished Deuteronomy, these are the things that stood out to me. 

1. Faithfulness doesn’t end just because our time is almost up.

Moses knew his time was done. He knew he would die, and God had already told him so.

Yet Moses remained faithful to the work God had given him right up until the very end.

That really struck me.

We sometimes think of our purpose as something that belongs to a particular season of our lives. But Moses reminds me that as long as God gives us breath, there is still something He can ask us to do.

We don’t get to decide when our usefulness ends.

Moses didn’t.

2. God made sure the Israelites understood the assignment.

There really wasn’t much gray area.

God laid out some fierce and mighty blessings for obedience and some equally fierce and mighty consequences for disobedience.

That might sound harsh to modern ears, but I think there is something incredibly loving about making the choices and consequences clear.

God wasn’t playing games with them.

He told them what He expected. He told them what would happen. And then He let them choose.

Which brings me to the next thing I learned.

3. God gives us a choice.

Too often, I think people view Christianity as a giant list of things God is going to make us do.

“If I become a Christian, God will make me give this up.”

“God will make me start doing that.”

But that’s not what I see in Deuteronomy.

God gives us a choice.

He doesn’t force our hand. He doesn’t drag us into obedience kicking and screaming. Instead, He gives us the opportunity to choose Him, choose obedience, and ultimately choose to accept His unconditional love.

And maybe that’s what makes the choice so meaningful.

Love that is forced isn’t really love.

4. Moses reminded Israel where they had come from.

Throughout Deuteronomy, Moses recapped Israel’s journey out of Egypt and everything God had done for them.

And he didn’t leave out the ugly parts.

Israel had rebelled. They had complained. They had forgotten. They had messed up.

And yet God continued to provide.

Moses reminded them of God’s grace, His faithfulness, and His supernatural provision.

In other words, he was telling them, Don’t forget what God has already done.

That is something I need to remember, too.

Because sometimes when I’m staring at what’s wrong right now, I forget to look back at everything God has already carried me through.

5. God’s Word was meant to be passed down.

One of the things that really stood out to me was the importance placed on teaching God’s instructions to the next generation.

The Book of Instruction was to be read and taught regularly, including at the appointed seven-year gathering. The purpose wasn’t simply for the people who were there. It was about remembering, teaching, and making sure the next generation knew what God had done.

In a very loose comparison, it was their version of having God’s Word available to them, long before we had the Bibles we can pick up and read today.

That made me think about how easily we can take access to Scripture for granted.

We have it everywhere.

We can read it on our phones. We can listen to it in the car. We can have multiple Bibles sitting on a shelf.

But having access to God’s Word and actually passing it along are two very different things.

6. God Himself buried Moses.

This one stopped me.

When Moses died, God Himself buried him.

God took care of Moses even in death.

I don’t know about you, but there’s something incredibly intimate about that.

Moses had spent his life walking with God, talking with God, arguing with God, obeying God, and sometimes getting things spectacularly wrong.

And yet, at the end of his life, God was still there.

There is something beautiful about that relationship.

7. Moses loved God deeply and he talked to Him plainly.

Moses wasn’t perfect.

He faltered. He made mistakes. He became frustrated. He even lost his temper.

But through all of it, he never wavered in his love for God.

The relationship between Moses and God feels incredibly personal to me.

And that’s another thing I took away from Deuteronomy: we don’t have to talk to God like we’re writing a letter to a king.

No King James English required.

No Shakespearean vocabulary necessary.

We can talk to God plainly.

We can tell Him when we’re angry. When we’re afraid. When we’re confused. When we’re grateful. When we don’t understand what He’s doing.

Moses certainly wasn’t afraid to speak honestly with God.

And I think there’s something comforting about knowing that God doesn’t require us to put on a performance before we come to Him.

Final Thoughts

If I had to wrap up everything I learned from reading Deuteronomy in one verse, it would be this:

“Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, so that you and your descendants might live!”

— Deuteronomy 30:19, NLT

Moses spoke those words to the Israelites.

But when I read them, they feel like they come straight from the heart of the Father.

Choose life.

Choose God.

Choose grace.

Choose love.

Choose Jesus.

Because ultimately, that’s what I believe Deuteronomy taught me.

God has given us a choice.

And every day, in big ways and small ones, we get to decide which way we’re going to walk.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

God, I Trust You

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I’ve been struggling lately.

Struggling with trying to have it all together.

Struggling with trying to do it all.

Struggling with a self-imposed timeline.

Struggling because I’m not as successful as I feel I should be.

Struggling with unfulfilled dreams.

Struggling to know my place in the world.

Struggling to know what God has really called me to do.

It’s a lot. And lately, it’s been overwhelming me.

I Know the Triggers

I’m well aware of the triggers.

Social media. Too much phone time. Not enough Bible or prayer time. Too much comparison. All the common pitfalls of a self-confessed failure.

Then there’s the endless search for the perfect process.

I spend too much time looking for the perfect process or studying how someone else did it so I can “learn” how to do it.

Then the overthinking starts.

They already did it. So what can I possibly bring to it? What do I have to offer?

And that’s just it.

What do I have to offer?

When the Orchestra Shows Up

Most days, these thoughts play like soft but annoying music in the background of my life.

But every so often, they decide to come out and play and when they do, they bring the whole orchestra and chorus with them.

And it’s a bad day.

Or days.

During those times, nothing seems to go right. Even the littlest thing becomes challenging. And the tears just never seem to stop.

This week has been full of those days.

Until this morning.

Something Felt Different

I got up and did my usual routine, including my Bible study time.

Afterward, I just sat.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Taking note of each breath.

Then I opened social media and actually found some encouragement. It felt like it was just for me.

And it was timely.

Usually, when I have days like this, everything ends with a whole lot of self-condemnation.

“I should be more grateful for what I have. Remember, Vikki, you once prayed for this, and now you’ve wasted time complaining about it.”

I sit there shaking my head at myself.

“More time wasted when you could have been doing something creative. I bet all those people who are actually doing it never wasted this much time.”

Then come more tears and more crying out to God, asking for forgiveness for what, honestly, I don’t even know anymore.

But this morning felt different.

Yes, there were still the “end of” tears. I started to go down that same road again, but I felt God stop me.

And this was what He highlighted for me:

“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”
— Ephesians 2:10, NLT

I Think I’ve Been Backwards

I think I’ve been looking at this all backwards.

Somehow, I convinced myself that I had to figure out and accomplish all the things God was planning for me to do.

But He already planned them.

All I need to do is walk in them.

And then God reminded me of something else.

While I’ve given all my hopes and dreams over to Him, I keep taking them back.

Why?

I have no clue, except that I’m part control freak and stupid pride keeps convincing me that I need to have my hand on the entire process.

I want the plan.

I want the timeline.

I want to know what happens next.

I want to know how everything comes together.

And apparently, God wants something very different from me.

One Step at a Time

Then I felt Him say:

There’s a reason I’m only giving you one step at a time.

Because you’re process-driven, and I want you to be God-driven.

I want you to trust Me and really get to know My voice. The only way to do that is for Me to give you one step at a time.

You’re frustrated because you can’t see the whole process, but I designed it this way.

Trust Me.

And once again, I broke.

I gave it all back to Him.

All my hopes.

All my dreams.

All the things I keep trying to figure out on my own.

And it’s scary because I don’t know what the next step is.

But I know He does.

So I said four very hard but very powerful words to Him:

God, I trust You.

And I meant it.

Truly.

Deep down, I meant it.

And a weight lifted off my heart, my shoulders, and all the rest of me.

Now I Get to Breathe

And now I get to breathe.

Just breathe.

I don’t have to figure everything out today.

I don’t have to know the entire plan.

I don’t have to compare my journey to someone else’s.

I don’t have to prove that I’m successful enough, creative enough, productive enough, or far enough along.

I just need to take the next step God puts in front of me.

That will be hard for me.

I’m a process-driven person. I like plans, timelines, checklists, and knowing where I’m going.

But maybe God isn’t asking me to understand the whole journey.

Maybe He’s asking me to trust the One who does.

And perhaps that’s where I need to start.

Not with another plan.

Not with another process.

Not with another comparison.

But with four simple words:

God, I trust You.

What About You?

Maybe you’re struggling, too.

Maybe you’re carrying dreams you don’t know what to do with.

Maybe you’re frustrated because you thought you’d be further along by now.

Maybe you keep asking God for the whole map when He’s only giving you the next step.

If that’s you, take a breath today.

Put down the timeline.

Put down the comparison.

Put down the need to understand it all.

Give your hopes and dreams back to God—and leave them there.

Then ask Him for the next step.

You don’t need the whole plan. You just need to trust the One who has it.

And if you’re willing, tell me in the comments:

What is one thing you need to give back to God today?

Maybe we can remind each other that we don’t have to have it all together.

We just have to keep walking.

One step at a time.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

Trading Beliefs for Truth

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Have you ever had a belief challenged? Someone feeds you a little truth, and suddenly you’re sitting in the middle of your belief system wondering what happened to your life.

As I’ve grown older and studied the Word more intently, I’ve realized there are several beliefs I need to replace with Truth.

It hasn’t necessarily been a pain-free process. Letting go of 50+ years of believing one way is hard. But if I want to grow, I have to “let it go”—as the song says.

So, here are some of the things I’ve had to let go of.

1. The more productive I am, the more I’m worth.

I’ve made a habit of tying my worth to what I accomplish. It’s probably why words of affirmation are my love language. Tell me I did a good job, and suddenly I feel like I’ve got my life together.

But the Bible tells me my worth isn’t wrapped up in what I do or how productive I am.

It’s wrapped up in Jesus.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8

Jesus didn’t wait until I became productive enough, successful enough, or “good enough.” He died for me while I was still a sinner.

My worth wasn’t earned.

Jesus settled it at the cross.

2. It’s too late to start something new.

I want to write and publish books. I want to build a business around writing, crochet, and embroidery. I want to read and review books. I want my blogs to succeed, and I want to grow them.

And through all of that, I hear a ticking clock in my head reminding me that I’m 57—almost 58—and time is running out.

But then I remember what the Bible says.

God regularly calls people later in life.

Moses was 80.

Caleb was 85 and still asking for mountains.

Sarah became a mother at 90.

Anna faithfully served God into old age.

“They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green.” — Psalm 92:14

The Bible never gives ministry, creativity, or purpose an expiration date.

There is no recall on my calling from God!

3. I have to have everything figured out before I begin.

This one stops me every time.

It’s also why I start things and then stop, leaving them unfinished. I always need to see the whole process. I want the perfect plan for my blogs, my writing, my career…preferably before I take the first step.

But God doesn’t work that way.

He usually gives us enough light for the next step—not the next twenty.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” — Psalm 119:105

A lamp gives me enough light to see where I’m standing and where to put my next foot.

It doesn’t spotlight the entire road.

Maybe I don’t need the whole plan.

Maybe I just need to take the next step.

4. I should have my emotions under control all the time.

Let’s talk about this one.

Menopause. Anxiety. Overwhelm. Guilt. Brain fog.

Sometimes the whole gang gets together and beats me up until I’m a crying mess who just wants to eat chocolate, rock myself, and pet Percy.

Then I feel guilty for feeling all of it.

But the Bible doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t have emotions.

David cried. Elijah became overwhelmed. Jeremiah wept. Even Jesus cried.

Scripture says:

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7

Notice it doesn’t say, “Get yourself together and then come to Me.”

It says cast it on Him.

Having emotions doesn’t mean I’m failing God.

It means I’m human.

I don’t have to be ashamed of what I feel. I just have to remember that my feelings are real, but they don’t have to be in charge.

5. God only uses extraordinary people.

I know I’ve joked about not wanting to be “Super Christian Wonder Woman.” And honestly, I think that’s a pretty healthy instinct.

Because when I look at the people God used throughout Scripture, I don’t see a lineup of superheroes.

I see ordinary people.

Fishermen.
Shepherds.
Widows.
Tax collectors.
Homemakers.
Farmers.

People with weaknesses, questions, fears, failures, and very ordinary lives.

And God used them.

“God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” — 1 Corinthians 1:27

Maybe I don’t have to be extraordinary.

Maybe I just have to be willing.

And finally…the mother of all beliefs.

I need to become a much better version of myself before God can use me.

This one might be the hardest to let go of.

Because I’m always trying to improve myself. Be better. Do better. Lose weight. Get organized. Be more productive. Finish what I start. Become more confident. Become more disciplined.

But Scripture keeps telling me a different story.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

God isn’t waiting for me to become younger, thinner, more successful, more organized, or more confident.

He isn’t waiting for the “finished version” of Vikki.

He can use me right now.

With my weaknesses.

With my unfinished projects.

With my messy emotions.

With my questions.

With my very ordinary life.

Because apparently, God has never needed me to be extraordinary.

He just needs me to be willing to let Him work through me.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

What If Ordinary Is Holy?

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I used to think holy people were recognizable.

They prayed differently.

They spoke differently.

They seemed to know exactly what to say when someone was hurting.

They probably woke up early to pray, kept their Bibles beautifully highlighted, and never once stood in the kitchen at 5:30 p.m. wondering what on earth they were going to make for dinner.

At least, that’s how I imagined them.

My mental picture of holiness centered on people doing holy things.

I pictured my pastor praying on his knees for Sunday morning inspiration.

His wife showing up at someone’s house with fresh-baked cookies because they were sick.

Moses meeting with God.

Mary carrying an unimaginable miracle inside her.

David standing in front of a giant with nothing but a sling and a whole lot of faith.

Those are the moments we remember.

So somewhere along the way, I decided holiness must look like that.

Then I saw “holy” people at home.

Years ago, I spent a summer living with a pastor and his family.

The circumstances that brought me there were complicated and, honestly, a little strange. But that summer gave me something I didn’t know I needed.

I got to see what happened when the people I had placed on a spiritual pedestal went home at the end of the day.

And they were…normal.

His shoes probably sat somewhere they shouldn’t have.

He had a habit of leaving cabinet doors open in the kitchen.

His wife couldn’t keep up with the laundry any more than the rest of us could.

He mowed the lawn.

She woke up with spectacular bedhead.

They got tired.

They had responsibilities.

They dealt with regular family stuff.

They weren’t walking around their house glowing with a faint heavenly light.

And I loved them for it.

Because somewhere in that very ordinary house, my definition of holiness began to fall apart.

Maybe holy people aren’t actually that different from the rest of us.

Maybe they just belong to God.

That changed something for me.

God meets people in real life.

When I went back to Scripture, I started noticing things I hadn’t paid much attention to before.

Moses wasn’t exactly eager to accept his assignment.

David spent years doing things that looked nothing like slaying giants.

Mary wasn’t living some peaceful, picturesque life when God interrupted it.

These weren’t people floating through perfectly arranged spiritual moments.

They had errands.

Responsibilities.

Fear.

Questions.

Bad days.

They had lives.

And God met them there.

I’ve spent a lot of years thinking I needed to create better spiritual moments.

A better quiet time.

A better prayer life.

A better version of myself.

Maybe you’ve done that too.

We see someone’s beautifully arranged Bible, coffee, journal, blanket, and perfectly placed verse on Instagram, and suddenly our own relationship with God feels like it’s missing something.

Meanwhile, I’m reading my Bible with yesterday’s coffee beside me while the dog wants out, my phone keeps buzzing, and I’m wondering whether I remembered to move something from the freezer for dinner.

This is not exactly Instagrammable holiness.

But maybe it doesn’t need to be.

Maybe God isn’t asking me to create a holy atmosphere.

Maybe He’s asking me to let Him into the atmosphere I already have.

That’s different.

Faith doesn’t have to look impressive.

Real life isn’t particularly photogenic.

Sometimes faith looks like praying while you’re driving.

Sometimes it looks like apologizing when you’d rather prove your point.

Sometimes it looks like opening your Bible when you’re tired and don’t particularly feel spiritual.

Sometimes it looks like forgiving someone who isn’t sorry.

Sometimes it looks like getting up tomorrow and doing the next right thing when yesterday was hard.

Sometimes it looks like sitting beside someone you love and saying nothing because there isn’t anything to say.

And sometimes…

it’s just making dinner.

There are days when I don’t feel particularly faithful.

There are days when I’m distracted, impatient, tired, discouraged, or simply over it.

Some days, my prayer life feels profound.

Other days, my prayer is basically, “Lord, help.”

I’ve decided that counts too.

Maybe especially that.

Because the older I get, the less interested I am in looking holy and the more interested I am in actually knowing God.

I don’t need my life to look impressive.

I don’t need every struggle to become a lesson.

I don’t need every morning to begin with a perfectly peaceful devotional.

I don’t even need to understand everything God is doing.

God has been faithful.

I’ve lived long enough to know that some of my biggest lessons came from things I never would have chosen.

Some prayers were answered.

Some weren’t.

Some dreams happened.

Some didn’t.

I’ve lost people I desperately wanted to keep.

I’ve walked through seasons I never want to repeat.

And somehow, through all of it, God has remained faithful.

Not flashy.

Not always obvious.

Just faithful.

That’s the part I notice more now.

I notice Him in my granddaughter’s laugh.

In a conversation that comes at exactly the right time.

In the sudden realization that something I once prayed desperately about no longer hurts the way it used to.

In a quiet morning.

In a hard day that somehow gets me through to bedtime.

In the comfort of Scripture I’ve read a hundred times but suddenly understand differently.

Even in a crochet hook moving through yarn while I watch another British mystery.

I don’t think those moments interrupt my spiritual life anymore.

I think they are my spiritual life.

Maybe this is what holiness looks like.

Maybe that’s what growing older has taught me.

Holiness isn’t always dramatic.

Sometimes it is incredibly ordinary.

Sometimes it looks like getting up, making coffee, going to work, loving your people, doing your best, messing up, apologizing, trying again, and trusting God to meet you somewhere in the middle of it all.

Not because the day was extraordinary.

But because He was there.

And maybe I’ve had it backward all these years.

Maybe I don’t have to make my ordinary life holy.

Maybe I just have to recognize that God is already there.

So today, I’m not looking for a mountaintop.

I’m looking around my kitchen.

My living room.

My car.

My messy schedule.

My ordinary day.

And I’m wondering what I’ve been too busy trying to make meaningful to notice was already sacred.

Something to think about…

What if you stopped waiting for a holy moment?

What if you simply looked at the life you already have and asked:

Where is God here?

Not in the perfect moment.

Not in the impressive moment.

Here.

Right in the middle of your ordinary life.