Can life feel both overwhelming and insignificant at the same time? Let me assure you it can.
More than a decade ago, when I was a young mom of two little munchkins, I remember… well, honestly, I don’t remember much because it often felt like I was twirling around in the tornado of toddlerhood. It seemed like one of my adorably helpless babies always needed a diaper change or to be fed or to go down for a nap—only to wake up and need another diaper change and even more food. I was more exhausted than an out-of-shape trekker with a 10-kilo backpack taking on Mount Everest.
And yet, while being overwhelmed, the mundaneness of the routine felt mind-numbing and possibly soul-crushing. How could I work all day and have nothing concrete to show for it? Why was I so drained when I’d accomplished so little? Why was unloading the dishwasher and keeping my kids alive the sum of my actions that day?
We lived in the US at the time. The other Indian moms in our circle of friends all happened to be engineers who worked full-time jobs at big-wig companies. They were raking in fat salaries and climbing the corporate ladder, and—here’s the best (or perhaps, worst?) part—they were incredibly committed to their roles as moms, too.
While I threw in a few microwaveable dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and added some baby carrots for my kids’ dinner, they would get back from work only to start chopping, sautéing, and pressure-cooking organic vegetables to create from-scratch little thali meals for their kids.
I was in awe of these moms. (That’s a euphemism for insanely jealous.) How did they have it so together? How could they be so accomplished? Why was my life so insignificant and mindless?
But right there, in my new mom phase, God started working something in me.
He didn’t just tell me I was valuable because of my unpaid labour at home.
He didn’t just assure me that I had worth because I was raising kids who would one day be contributing members of society.
He didn’t just point out that mamas are superheroes without capes.
Nope, God doesn’t simply throw platitudes our way to make us feel better about ourselves. He is too kind and too good and too wise for that.
Here’s what He did instead: He gave me a different vantage point. He led me to the foot of the Cross.
When I gazed upon Jesus’ overwhelming love displayed on Calvary for me, the “smallness” of my life became inconsequential because I realised I am everything to Him.
I’ve been a mom now for 17 years. I hope and pray that my husband and I have shaped our teen kids’ lives in a “big” way. But, there’s no question that I have not created a big splash on the world stage. I’m not an influencer or a celebrity. I haven’t written a bestseller or led an organization.
My life is a weaving of ordinary moments embellished by simple joys and sorrows. But in the mundaneness of the ordinary, I’ve learned to understand my worth—not because of who I am or what I’ve done but because of Who God is and what He has done.
While I can still nurture dreams and work on my aspirations, my identity is not rooted in living big or being the best or fulfilling my goals. It’s found in being a child of God. It’s sealed by my eternal inheritance. It’s established in God’s love. I’m chosen, redeemed, forgiven, and been gifted a new heart and a new spirit.
Colossians 3:23 reminds us to work heartily as for the Lord in whatever we do. The “whatever” in our lives often includes the regular old routine and the hopelessly mundane. But when we see our daily rhythms as worship to a God who gave Himself for us, the ordinary becomes an offering.
Friend, your daily faithfulness could have a big impact. You may, in fact, be changing the world with your ordinary actions. The results are in God’s hands. Choosing obedience is in ours. May we aspire to live quietly, to mind our own affairs, and to work with our hands (1 Thessalonians 4:11). Choosing the unimpressive life could be the most radical step of obedience we could take.
As we muddle through the mundane, may we see ourselves as individuals made worthy by the Cross. May the gospel free us to live out our calling, no matter how big or small.
Photo by Laura Ohlman on Unsplash
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