Doing Great Things

I turned 30 this weekend. As a friend of mine said, you never really think you'll be 30 until you are. Well, here I am.

I always intended to reflect a bit about what I've done over 30 years, especially the last ten or so years that I've had some freedom. I haven't really done that - the closest I've come is resolving to join Facebook in the near future so I can join the rest of the world. I'm still holding strong, however, on my resolve to avoid a cell phone plan.

A great fear of mine has always been that of being inconsequential, of being ordinary. I hate to say it because it sounds so self-centered, but I think I have to add to that list a fear of being forgotten. I want what I do to matter, to be able to say I took what I've been given and accomplished great things. On responsible days, I want to do great things for God. On most days, I want to do great things for me and say they are for God. On bad days I just want to feed my ego.

It's that desire to do big things for God that came up in my mind while I was reading some of Oswald Chambers' writing tonight, and something caught my eye. The following quote speaks volumes:

"Walking on the water is easy. . ., but walking on dry land as a disciple of Jesus Christ is a different thing. Peter walked on the water to go to Jesus, but he followed Him afar off on the land. We do not need the grace of God to stand crises. . . but it does require the supernatural grace of God to live twenty-four hours in every day as a saint, to go through drudgery as a disciple, to live an ordinary, unobserved, ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus. It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God; but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in the mean streets, among mean people, and this is not learned in five minutes."

I've always listed Peter as one of the 3 people from history that I'd love to speak with. My primary reason is that he walked on water. I'd love to know what that was like, to know how he mustered the faith, to know what he was thinking. But it's clear that isn't the story. The questions I should be asking should be about what it was liking walking next to Christ on a daily basis.

I don't know if I've accomplished a whole lot in my first 30 years, and I don't know what I'll accomplish in the next 30 (if I get them). I'll let God be the judge of that. I am beginning to realize, though, the value of being extraordinary in the mundane. And just how much prayer it will require to be a twenty-four hour a day saint.