Ordinary Landings

Amy Clemens

Read: Matthew 13:10-17

Their eyes they have closed, lest they should see with their eyes . . . (v. 15)

Flying has become mundane. I still hold my breath on takeoff and landing, my nose glued to the window until the stewardess offers a complimentary drink. These days I look around me and wonder if I’ve dropped into a crowded bus in a foreign country, sans chickens of course—but there was a tiny cat in a handbag on my last flight; pet chickens could be next. My seating partner asked whether I’d like her to pull the window shade, shutting out the amazing sunset above the clouds. I didn’t, yet my attempts to start a conversation about it fell flat. I was amazed by both the beauty and her disinterest.

Admittedly, Christian life can become dull. We pass by familiar hymns, liturgy, and Scripture much like mountains of clouds, patchworked fields, or the miracle of every takeoff and landing—beauty we no longer see because we’ve grown accustomed to the view. But faith, like flying, is an incredible wonder. This is the faith Jesus knew, and shared with his closest companions while speaking in parables to others. He stood ready to forgive and heal, but hearts were dull, ears were plugged, and eyes were closed.

Perhaps when the routine puts us on autopilot, we could open our eyes again. There are no ordinary landings, really, just as there is no unmiraculous faith: the mystery is there waiting if we look again. —Amy Clemens

As you pray, give God permission to shake you and wake you to the miracles and mystery around you today.