Two years ago, I was in the Dominican Republic on a mission trip. It’s easy to think back on those big life moments and wonder if you’ve done anything of significance since then—or even while on them. For me, that trip held one big moment—a deep conversation with a new believer in the Atlanta airport, in the final moments of a Tuesday night.
In my heart, I’m pretty sure that the only reason I went to the DR was for that chat with Michael. That was exactly what I wrote in my journal about that one moment in the entirety of the rest of my life—that if I went to the DR for no other reason than to talk with Michael, then it was worth it all.
And today, two years later, I still wholeheartedly agree with that sentence. I can’t even begin to tell you how often I think about that man and pray that he is still going deeper with Jesus and clinging to him in the midst of the chaotic mess of life. My hope is that, one day, our lives will reconnect in eternity.
Sometimes, we feel like the lyrics to Tenth Avenue North’s song, “Hold my Heart”—“one tear in the dropping rain”—insignificant with all the billions of people on this earth. And yet…with all my heart, I believe we were created for far more than ordinary, mundane, and Tuesdays. But for most of us, the shooting star moments of life are going to happen in the tapestry of ordinary, mundane, Tuesdays. One flash across a skyscape of a billion similar pinpricks of light.
There was nothing extraordinary about chatting with Michael those 700+ days ago, and not much of extraordinary has happened since.
Except for God.
And that is what makes all the difference in the seemingly ordinary, monotonous moments of life.
Jesus—the Light of the World. The blazing sun that forces the twinkling speckles of light to shut their eyes before His brilliance.
That. And only that is what makes all the difference and significance in an ordinary life.
Simply Jesus. And his simple gospel.
It’s what makes all the difference on those late, sweltering nights, when I find myself chatting with my neighbors about electricity and hog barns. (Goodness, but I have come to seriously love these neighbors!)
And I wonder, if in the end, it won’t be the big things that matter. But the things that happened on our ordinary Tuesdays will be the memorable moments that we carry with us for the rest of our lives. The fragile, dancing shards of extraordinary bursting into our everyday. That’s beauty. That’s Jesus.
And that is enough to make the most seemingly typical Tuesday anything but.