The Importance of the Mundane

I don’t know whether it’s a product of our culture, hardwired into our DNA, a result of the fall of man, or simply that we are greedy for our moment in the sun, but humanity tends to overlook the mundane as something unimportant, something not to be valued, something less than ideal.

Books, movies, and history are filled with stories of derring-do, tales of overcoming impossible situations, battling to victory despite the odds. We glorify those who are larger than life, who risk much, who dare to do, the movers, the shakers, the history makers. And we look down our noses at the quiet people, those who are backstage, the invisible workers who keep things running smoothy while the bigwigs garner all the glory.

 Even Christians aren’t immune to this mentality. We spend countless books and conferences lauding “those who made a difference” as long as the difference is public and huge and earth shaking.  As a teenager, I mourned the fact that I didn’t have a “great testimony” like those paraded on conference stages. You know the kind: the ones who had rebelled and turned their lives a round, those saved from a terrible life of addiction or crime, or those who’d “done great things for God” by saving lives or starting world renown ministries or serving in a country where their very lives were in danger. My life didn’t count because I was a “good” girl, didn’t get in trouble, did what I was supposed to do, etc. It was a quiet life, humbly (and sometimes not so humbly) serving God in my way in my place. Not center stage at all.

Is it any wonder there is such a sense of dissatisfaction with the  Christian life among stay at home mothers, teens who desire to be godly, but don’t want to  miss the chance for a great testimony, Christians who give up on doing great things for God because they are stuck in a menial job somewhere in a rural or small town or lost in the vastness of a big city where no one cares?

There is a passage in Sean Astin’s book There and Back Again that struck me with a spiritual truth. It wasn’t his intent, but I think it is the key to satisfaction in doing things well no matter where we are or what we’re doing. He recounts the visit of Sir Edmund Hillary to the set during filming of one of numerous “walking shots,” the kind that are monotonous and fill in between the “great” scenes.

“But not on this day.  Not with Sir Edmund Hillary sitting behind a monitor. I wanted the scene and my work in it to be worthy.  Somehow, with Hillary looking on, that simple walking shot became more important than all the other walking shots.” (There and Back Again, p. 198).

It was like a spotlight shining brightly in the dim, dusty attic of my endeavours. Christ is always present. Always there watching over the mundane tasks of my little life, with approval. What I do, how I live, may not find its way to center stage under the spotlights of the world arena and that’s okay. Just knowing He is present, is sufficient. It gives glory and majesty to all the little humdrum chores that no one else notices, that others take for granted. How much richer would our lives be if we really understood that principle? If we really chose to honour Christ in all we say and do regardless of recognition in the here and now?

Colossians 3:23 And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.

It isn’t about doing things perfect; it’s about doing it for His approval. It’s about making Him smile. And that is the best kind of reward and makes even the mundane priceless.