The Story of a Weekend

God does a lot of big and exciting things in my life.

He also does a lot of little things.

In all honesty, it's the little things that usually make the biggest impact on me.

Small, silent moments of spiritual revelation. Short yet meaningful conversations with other people. The bigger purpose manifested in the little plans and details of my very simple life.

It's easy to expect to see God working in the big things. Such a big God would naturally care about the big decisions and momentous occasions in my life. But for the Creator of the universe to take an interest in the tiny details, to infuse the little things with power and meaning...that fills me with an awe and gratitude which can hardly be expressed.

So here I sit. I'm sipping at a mug of coffee and reflecting back over the events of last week. I'm feeling again that familiar pulse of wonder as I remember how God showed His power in so many, many little things.


To begin with, none of my plans were working out. I was trying to organize a weekend gathering with some friends I hadn't seen in far too long, but one thing led to another and the upshot was that all our plans fell through. I was a bit bummed, but when Friday rolled around and a few more plans fell apart, I suddenly became thankful. I realized how wisely God had prevented my plans from working out as I was unexpectedly faced with the prospect of preparing for Dad's work party...essentially by myself. I alerted my {thankfully very understanding} employers to the fact that I would not be able to work that day, and began to strategize about the battle housecleaning. 

I was mildly panicked, but in extreme circumstances I have always found that I am capable of much more than I believe myself to be. With a prayer of, 'okay, God, here goes!', a few mental pep talks and a great deal of music, I made it through.

But there was some bloodshed along the way. 

Without going into gory detail, I'll say this: If a person refuses to help me with my daunting to-do list, accuses me of shirking my work, does their own work assignments so poorly that I have to come clean up after them, and then acts completely unconcerned and unrepentant when I confront them about it all...well, I'm likely to get mad. I'm also likely to yell. Loudly.

I said some things that would have been better left unsaid, and I had to do a lot of apologizing afterward. 

So that weekend was both a success and a failure.

But I'm inclined to think that it was more of a success, because all my numerous failures couldn't stop God from using me. Even in the midst of frantic cooking, cleaning, yard work, and yes, losing my temper, I was still able to pray. And pray I did. 

I have slowly come to realize just what a powerful force prayer is, and I have been taking all of that Ephesians 6 stuff about praying at all times in the Spirit a lot more seriously. God constantly sends reminders...'Turn off the CD player and pray'...'This person needs you to pray for them. Right now.'...'Why don't you commit that problem to Me in prayer instead of worrying about it?' He's been reminding me that my hands may be busy with housework, but my spirit can still be full of praise and intercession. And do you know? Praying for people helps keep me energized and happy. My focus is pulled off of myself and on to the greatness of God. Through prayer, I am able to care about people that I've never even met.

The more I pray, the more prayers I see answered, and the more cause I have for rejoicing. Someday I'll be rejoicing and praying so much that I won't even have time for losing my temper. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to that point yet.

But even in my anger, I saw prayers answered that weekend.

God worked. I got to help a little bit. Helping makes me happy.

So after the last guest had departed, and the house had been cleaned a second time, after the last bit of food was stored away in the fridge, and the last pan of muffins for Sunday morning laid out on the cooling racks, I happily dragged my weary self up to my bedroom and waited for the exhaustion to hit. Instead, I felt an excitement. It was that feeling I get when I know I've gotten things right. I knew that I had spent the last two days in sync with God's plans. My own plans disrupted, my own preferences pushed to one side. God had arranged and directed and cared. God had been there, in the midst of the anger and the dirty dishes. God had used me.


Little me

I lay in my bed, completely overwhelmed by God's goodness, exhausted in body but refreshed in spirit, assured once again that God truly does work all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.


What has God been doing in your life?
Have you been able to see Him working in the little things?