I get a certain look on my face. My wife Carol has come to recognize it. Something happens, like that morning when I forgot to turn off the flame under my oatmeal, and she accidentally put the milk in the freezer. She’ll look at me and say, “Are you going to write a devotional about this?”
Many of us start our days reading devotionals like Mornings With Jesus, Strength & Grace. Seeking God’s presence in our everyday lives. But writing them, too—like the ones I’ve written for Daily Guideposts—is also a spiritual practice. Discovering God in the here and now.
For instance, that morning Carol put the milk in the freezer. “What a stupid thing to do,” I thought. “Is she losing her grip?” Judgmental. Ungenerous. Unkind. And then the tables get turned on me. Leaving the stove burning. Potentially more dangerous than some frozen milk.
I love that we use that word “practice” when we talk about spiritual growth or prayer. Practice. We’re all learning. I certainly am. With God’s help there is always room for growth. What I’ve found is that putting down those moments is invaluable.
It can be something big—like presiding over our son’s wedding ceremony and getting teary-eyed at the sight of Carol walking down the aisle. Or something small—like fuming over a lost money clip, only to discover it days later when I checked my pockets before doing the laundry.
Did I think, “God, thank You for helping me find my money clip?” No, the lesson felt bigger than that. More, “God, why do I worry and fret over little things? Why not simply trust You?”
The lessons I find can be in chores as simple as washing the windows. I squirt the Windex and wipe with a paper towel, leaning my arm around to get the glass outside, smudged by months of dust, grime, rain and snow.
How surprised I am when I clean the inside of the windows, too. Where did all that muck come from? I wouldn’t have noticed it without my elbow grease and paper towel. The final product, sparkling and clear.
I can almost feel the devotional coming, the message something I need to hear. That change can happen from the inside out, that a clear view comes when I address the muck muddying up my soul.
You don’t have to be a writer to see the devotionals in your life. As a reader I find myself nodding, “Oh, yes, I know that experience. I’ve done something like that, too.” It’s helpful to underline a phrase or scribble a comment. I’m always grateful for a Bible verse, too, linked to a story. Scripture comes alive when it’s lived.
I’m not writing this simply to get you to a devotional I’ve written and Guideposts has published. Sure, that would be nice. But more importantly, look for the devotional moments in your own life. They’re there. As close at hand as a clean washed window or a money clip that was lost and now is found.
