From Hinds Feet on High Places:
“[T]he high High Places of victory and union with Christ cannot be reached by any mental reckoning of self to be dead to sin, or by seeking to devise some way or discipline by which the will can be crucified. The only way is by learning to accept, day by day, the actual conditions and tests permitted by God, by a continually repeated laying down of our own will and acceptance of His as it is presented to us in the form of the people with whom we have to live and work, and in the things which happen to us.“
Wouldn’t we love it to be more glamorous than it is? When I was young, wouldn’t I have gladly lived in a mud hut surrounded by cannibals rather than love the sister who took my things and the brother who talked too much, or cheerfully make the sandwiches and clean the bathrooms? And now, wouldn’t I sometimes prefer to follow a strict devotional regimen that I myself devised rather than happily greet the perpetual needs of little boys and husband? I mean, really: how can this — this menial, this daily, this lowly, this repetitive — be holy?
But it is. And it only is.
God does not come to invite us to a mountain top monastery. He comes and calls Himself Emmanuel. He does not linger outside the circles of our everyday, too holy to be involved. And neither has He made the process of knowing Him and following Him some spiritual construct outside the realms of daily living. Instead, He has made fellowship with Him a moment by moment opportunity. And He invites me through each experience — menial, lowly, boring, inspiring — to be changed into His image.
The best part of all this is that we never have to miss out. When trips to China are canceled, I still serve Jesus. When a new baby means I miss sermons for months on end, I still hear Jesus. When sleepless nights mean missed quiet times, I still know Jesus.
Today, I can know Jesus.