By Karen Canon
"Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.” –Gandalf in Tolkien's The Return of the King
I was scrubbing a toilet the other day, reminded about the futility of much that I do. I cook; I clean. People get hungry, the home gets dirty. Discouragement and defeat whispered in my ear.
But are these really defeats? That I come back to clean and cook is a victory, albeit a very small one. I will not make the cover of ‘Hero Digest’ for such acts. And yet, I think, these minor triumphs in the realm of the mundane are gaining spiritual ground in the Kingdom.
I’ve been called to this vocation, tending the home and hearts of my little mission field. Proclaiming the Gospel here, first. Not only by my lips, but by my actions. And these little grains of sand are as much God’s as are the mighty deeds that make the headlines. They are grains of sand by which He builds a kingdom and says to the tides of this world, “This far you may come and no farther."
What does this mean for the New Year? In a word, Hope.
The mundane is redeemed; repetitive acts that, in the world’s economy, amount to little are significant in God’s eyes. They are valued. They are desired.
I can have confidence in the final act even though I don’t see the turning of the action nor its timing. I don’t control the ‘weather’ the future will contain, but I can continue to do what is in me for the succor of these years wherein I am set, uprooting the evil in my heart and in my reach. I can cook and clean, not grudgingly, but thankfully. I can marvel in His Grace and seek to loosen my clutch on it and allow it to slip through my fingers to those around me more readily because His reserves are unlimited. I can claim my heritage of Beauty, Light, and Truth. I can—and I will—firmly set my feet in His Large Room. I want for myself the posture of my friend in the photo above. She has it right.
But are these really defeats? That I come back to clean and cook is a victory, albeit a very small one. I will not make the cover of ‘Hero Digest’ for such acts. And yet, I think, these minor triumphs in the realm of the mundane are gaining spiritual ground in the Kingdom.
I’ve been called to this vocation, tending the home and hearts of my little mission field. Proclaiming the Gospel here, first. Not only by my lips, but by my actions. And these little grains of sand are as much God’s as are the mighty deeds that make the headlines. They are grains of sand by which He builds a kingdom and says to the tides of this world, “This far you may come and no farther."
What does this mean for the New Year? In a word, Hope.
The mundane is redeemed; repetitive acts that, in the world’s economy, amount to little are significant in God’s eyes. They are valued. They are desired.
I can have confidence in the final act even though I don’t see the turning of the action nor its timing. I don’t control the ‘weather’ the future will contain, but I can continue to do what is in me for the succor of these years wherein I am set, uprooting the evil in my heart and in my reach. I can cook and clean, not grudgingly, but thankfully. I can marvel in His Grace and seek to loosen my clutch on it and allow it to slip through my fingers to those around me more readily because His reserves are unlimited. I can claim my heritage of Beauty, Light, and Truth. I can—and I will—firmly set my feet in His Large Room. I want for myself the posture of my friend in the photo above. She has it right.