Max and Me for Morning Devotions

I have a couple posts already written, but I thought I'd share something else before I pop those in here...

I forgot I had staff devotions this morning. I came into the office, checked the calendar and, bam, there it was. I had about 50 minutes to pull it together. Now, understand, I usually spend a bit more time than that trying to come up with something meaningful for the staff - so, first, of course, I prayed - maybe a little more fervently than some other weeks...

I pulled out a Max Lucado book, And the Angels Were Silent, and read through a few chapters of it and hit one that really spoke to me (it was chapter 24 "The Greatest Miracle", for those keeping track).

First, though, let me start with a quick note in the Gospel of Matthew. If you read chapter 21 you get the Triumphal entry and the cleansing of the temple - you get a pretty busy Sunday, all in all - and we celebrated that this week as Palm Sunday. And the day ends like this:

And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

So he left the city and went to Bethany - I would guess to Mary and Martha's house, but it doesn't really matter (and no, I didn't check the other Gospels on that).

It's the next verse that intrigues me (just a little):

Early in the morning, as he was on his way back to the city, he was hungry.

You might be asking yourself, "Yeah? So?" Well, that's just it. Can there be an any LESS auspicious beginning to the single most significant week in all of history? He was hungry. Talk about ordinary. Talk about anti-climactic. And, yeah, he performs a miracle right after that - the whithering fig tree - but that's just about it for the week.

No calming storms.

No walking on water.

No water into wine.

No blind given sight or lame walking or even abundant fish and bread.

And Lucado riffs on that fact. The one week that Jesus could have - and I might argue should have done the great and miraculous - he's strangely silent. Why? Why not split the sky on Monday? Why not raise some of the dead on Wednesday? Why not just a little display?

Lucado's response is that this is most appropriate - because God speaks and moves in the very ordinary. In fact, we sometimes "miss the impossible by looking for the incredible." (192)

I don't know. I think God still does the incredible. But I'll agree in part with Max - God mostly works in the ordinary - quietly, gently speaking and moving and transforming our lives and our world.

Just like that week that started out so ordinary for, well the whole world, really, this week as started pretty ordinary for me.

But God has still been speaking.

Hear. Listen. Believe.