We don’t have a dishwasher.
It disappeared with the rest of the 4 bedroom house and low risk lifestyle we left behind when my husband and I could no longer ignore the journey God was calling us to embark on.

No, we’re not missionaries living saintly lives in dangerous places. 

We’re not translating the bible into a foreign language or evangelising unreached people groups.

We’re not planting a church or greatly impacting lives with the Gospel.

We’re not even depending on daily miracles to put food on the table.

We’re just ordinary people.

So ordinary.

As ordinary and mundane as a pile of dirty dishes.

Yet God is so present in this ordinary.

In the ebb and flow, the coming and going, the humdrum routine of everyday life, God’s presence is rich and decadent. The air is thick with it. Life is replete with it. His love, His grace, His power, His presence. It leaks out all over the freshly mopped floors. It seeps out from within the laundry basket. It swirls in the sink with my pile of dirty dishes. It wafts in on the breeze through the open door.

It beckons. It invites. It calls.


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