Sometimes I wonder at this little life. What am I even doing here and why does it matter? My life contains little or nothing that would interest a biographer, no great discoveries or acts of heroism. Sleeping, waking, praying, reading, dishes, vacuuming, working, exercising, going to church, family and friends, checking the mail and taking out the trash, these are the everyday and every week things. The stuff that would not interest a biographer is precisely what has interested God. Reading through 1 Chronicles, I've been introduced to a number of people with little lives--lives not so unlike mine--who have been remembered. In chapter 4:9-10 we meet Jabez, who's name means pain but he was honourable and wanted to be kept from harm and pain, so he prayed, "And God granted what he asked." 4:21 tells of linen workers, 4:23 tells of potters who were in the king's service, 4:42-43 tells of Simeonites who destroyed the remaining Amalekites (the people that Saul was
Lately I've noticed that people are a bit on edge, a bit irritable, a bit sad, a bit off. Sometimes, when I examine my own heart, I am one of these people. Perhaps it's the let down after Christmas, perhaps it's all the grey days we had in January, perhaps its all the time spent inside. I don't know. But I do know many people have been feeling down and overwhelmed and weary. Perhaps it's just the day-in, day-out reality of waking up, vacuuming, going to work, feeding the children, exercising, taking the garbage out, school, church, and the small, unpleasant interruptions along the way. The co-workers swearing as they tell their story, the child who does not listen and need correction again, the dishes that are never done, the school readings that are always awaiting you. We must rid ourselves of the delusion that it is major events which most determine a person. He is more deeply and lastingly influenced by the tiny catastrophes of which everyday existence is mad