Still Preaching: The Quiet Power of the Ordinary

It's a strange thing, this season of life. The house is quieter than it used to be. No more frantic morning dashes, no last-minute permission slips, no adolescent arguments echoing from different rooms. My husband and I, we're empty nesters now. The kids are grown, building their own lives, and sometimes, the silence can feel… big. For so long, I thought "ministry" meant big, grand gestures. Leading a Bible study, volunteering endlessly at church, mission trips to far-off lands. And those things are good, truly. But lately, I've noticed something profound: the real, everyday ministry often happens in the quiet corners of our lives. In the laundry pile, the lunchbox, and yes, even the stacks of bills and official papers.

The Endless Cycle of Laundry: A Labor of Love

You know the drill. The dryer buzzes, the basket fills, and just when you think you're caught up, another pile reappears as if by magic. For years, laundry felt like a chore, a relentless enemy. Now, though, especially with just the two of us, it feels different. When I fold my husband's work shirts, I'm thinking of his long days, the effort he puts in to provide for us. When I wash the guest towels after our daughter visits, it's a quiet prayer of gratitude for her presence, even brief. It's a tangible act of care, a way of saying, "I see you, I care for you, I'm taking care of our home." There's something sacred in that simple, repetitive act of tending to one another's basic needs. It's truly a silent sermon of love.

Packing Lunches: Nourishing More Than Just Bodies

The lunch-packing routine has changed over the years. From cartoon-themed lunchboxes for little ones, carefully cut sandwiches, and a million snacks, to now, just a reusable container for my husband's midday meal. Yet, the intent remains the same. It’s about nourishment. Not just of the body, but of the spirit. It's a way to send a little piece of home, a reminder that someone cares, even when we're apart. Sometimes, I'll slip a little note in, just a "Thinking of you" or a quick Bible verse. It’s a small, consistent act of service, a whisper of love carried through the day. And in this season of Thanksgiving approaching, I'm so grateful for the simple blessing of being able to provide.

Lease Renewals and Life Admin: Faithful Stewardship

Then there are the less glamorous tasks: the bills, the renewals, the maintenance schedules. The "lease renewal" from the prompt really hits home; it represents all those necessary, slightly tedious tasks that keep life running smoothly. Managing finances, staying on top of paperwork, planning for the future – it’s not exactly thrilling. But these are acts of stewardship, aren't they? Of managing the resources God has blessed us with, of keeping our household in order, of planning for tomorrow with faith. When I sit down to pay bills, I often pause and pray over each one, thanking God for the provision, asking for wisdom. It's a practical expression of trust, a ministry of responsible living that speaks volumes about our faith in action.

Finding God in Every Corner

Colossians 3:23 often comes to mind: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters." This isn't just about our jobs, or our volunteer work, or our Sunday best. It’s about the laundry, the lunches, the lease renewals. It’s about every single moment, every seemingly insignificant action. God is not just in the grand cathedrals or the soaring sermons; He's in the suds of the dishwater, the warmth of a freshly baked casserole, the steady hum of a working home. This November, as we lean into Thanksgiving and the gathering of family, I'm realizing that gratitude isn't just for the big blessings. It's for the quiet rhythm of our days, for the capacity to serve in these small, consistent ways. It's in these mundane moments that we often truly live out our faith, offering our hearts and hands in quiet service, preaching a sermon without saying a word. Where do you find God speaking to you in the everyday hustle and bustle? What small, ordinary task has become a sacred moment for you? I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts.