JUNE 24, 2025

 " There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."            -Albert Einstein

JOB 1-3

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

and naked I will depart.^c

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;

may the name of the Lord be praised.”

22In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.

ACTS 7:1-19

1Then the high priest asked Stephen, “Are these charges true?”

2To this he replied: “Brothers and fathers, listen to me! The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham while he was still in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Harran. 3‘Leave your country and your people,’ God said, ‘and go to the land I will show you.’^a

JOURNAL 

Job, having just lost nearly everything, responds not with blame, but with reverence. And then in Acts 7, we find Stephen—bold, unwavering, preaching a breathtaking summary of redemptive history just before his martyrdom. He ends his life not with panic or bitterness, but with grace and vision, echoing Christ himself.

These two moments confront a modern, diluted theology that suggests God is only with us when life is easy and successful. In truth, their stories proclaim something deeper: that the presence of God is not proven by comfort but by conviction. And that miracles are not limited to healing or provision, but often show themselves in endurance, clarity, and peace in the face of suffering.

Einstein’s quote rings especially true in this light. To live as though everything is a miracle is not about wishful thinking or spiritualizing every inconvenience—it’s about choosing awareness. It’s about deciding, each day, to recognize that something sacred is unfolding even in the mundane. The laundry, the silence, the interruptions—all of it contains the fingerprints of a God who is always at work.

And yet, why do so many moments feel insignificant? Why do we drift through days without wonder? I think it’s because significance isn’t loud. We’ve trained our eyes to look for grandeur instead of grace. We’re drawn to crisis because it makes us feel like something matters. But the kingdom of God, as Jesus says in Luke 17:20-21, “will not come with observable signs… for the kingdom of God is in your midst.”

It’s here. Right now. In this moment. Not waiting on the next big thing. The challenge isn’t to find where God is moving—but to open my eyes to the fact that He already is.

If I want to be faithful in the moments that demand great courage, I must first learn to be faithful in the ones that don’t. That is the training ground. That is the invitation. Like Stephen, who was ready for his final sermon because he had lived a life rooted in Scripture, in obedience, in attention to the Spirit. And like Job, who could worship not because he understood—but because he trusted.

Today, I want to live with that same awareness. I want to recognize that I stand in the middle of miracles, whether I feel it or not. I want my eyes to be opened to the wonder of now. Because if I believe that God is writing an epic story, then I also believe that no scene is filler—every page, every line, every breath matters.

So let me live today as though everything is a miracle. Because in God’s presence, it is.

20When asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, “The kingdom of God will not come with observable signs. 21Nor will people say, ‘Look, here it is,’ or ‘There it is.’ For you see, the kingdom of God is in your midst.” 

LUKE 17:20-21