“Now Moses kept the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian: and he led the flock to the backside, of the desert, and came to the mountain of God, even to Horeb. And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush.” Exodus 3:1-2
The vision came in the midst of common toil, and that is where the Lord delights to give His revelations. He seeks a man who is on the ordinary road, and the Divine fire leaps out at his feet. The mystic ladder can rise from the market place to Heaven. It can connect the realm of drudgery with the realms of grace.
Some Christians think they must be always up to mounts of extraordinary joy and revelation; this is not after God’s method. Those spiritual visits to high places, and that wonderful intercourse with the unseen world, are not in the promises; the daily life of communion is. And it is enough. We shall have the exceptional revelation if it be right for us.
There were but three disciples allowed to see the transfiguration, and those three entered the gloom of Gethsemane. No one can stay on the mount of privilege. There are duties in the valley. Christ found His life-work, not in the glory, but in the valley and was there truly and fully the Messiah. The value of the vision and glory is but their gift of fitness for work and endurance.
“My Father God, help me to expect Thee on the ordinary road. I do not ask for sensational happenings. Commune with me through ordinary work and duty. Be my Companion when I take the common journey. Let the humble life be transfigured by Thy presence.” (Streams in the Desert)
“It is what it is.” I caught myself saying so the other day without thinking about my meaning or its wider implication. Quite honestly, I uttered it in a less-than-positive vein. Burdened by limitations within myself, frustration surfaced as a cliché, but, as is the case with most clichés, the trite and hackneyed expression was grounded in truth. Life is what it is, which makes it all the more critical that we see ourselves as we are—extraordinary harbingers of the divine, and every moment as it is—colored beautifully by grace. The practice of discerning grace in unexpected ways during the very non-surprising routines of life continues to dominate my thinking and captivate my imagination. Life changes suddenly for some, but for most of us, transformation comes slowly, imperceptibly. Alterations in patterns of living and the people experiencing them often go unnoticed until something causes us to pause and reflect. We can learn a lot about ourselves and our Maker if we know where to look. (From Ordinary Glory: Finding Grace in the Commonplace, by Dane Fowlkes)