Some days don’t feel particularly “special.” They don’t come with dramatic experiences or profound insights. In fact, I would say most days are like that, one day pretty much indistinguishable from the next except for different errands to run or appointments on the calendar. Just… Wednesday. Ordinary, familiar, routine.
Moses had a day like that. He was out in a field taking care of some sheep. It was what he did every day … and had done every day for about 40 years. Nothing exciting, memorable, or life-changing. Just doing the next quiet, necessary thing in front of him. And then—somewhere in the middle of that ordinary day—he noticed something unusual: a random burning bush that just somehow kept burning.
I wonder sometimes whether the miracle wasn’t just the fire, but that Moses stopped to see it.
It would’ve been easy to keep walking. Stay on schedule. Don’t ask questions. Let life move on. But Moses paused and paid attention. And in that moment, the ordinary ground beneath his feet became holy.
There’s a quote often attributed to Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
“Earth’s crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God; but only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest side round it and pluck blackberries.”
That feels about right.
The problem isn’t usually that God is absent from our days. It’s that we’re distracted. We have our schedule and move quickly from one thing to the next. We multitask. We keep our heads down and our feet moving. And we miss the quiet ways God makes himself known.
God meets us, more often than not, in the ordinary rhythms of life—work, conversation, stillness, and even routine. The question isn’t whether God is present, but whether we are paying attention.
So how do we stay open to something extraordinary on an ordinary Wednesday? Not by expecting something dramatic, but by slowing down enough to notice. By listening a little more carefully. By treating even small moments as if they might matter.
Because sometimes, they do. Sometimes the holy shows up in the middle of the mundane. And sometimes, the most spiritual thing we can do is … stop.
Prayer: God, open my eyes today. Slow me down enough to notice your presence in the small and familiar things. Keep my heart attentive, and make me aware of the sacred moments I might otherwise miss. Amen.
