Mundane Grace

Photo by Ina Vikøren

I want to share a little snippet of my day the other day with you. Although it’s from a specific instance, this story describes what happens quite frequently. Maybe you can relate.

Picture me walking the dog... Moments earlier, I got an email. You know, one of those emails. I was pissed. It had to do with work and money and lack and stress and pressure and disappointment and all of it. I won’t belabor you with the details, but you may have been there a time or two.

The best I can signify my feeling state in that moment is with a red-face-of-anger emoji 😡. Actually, more fitting would be the purple-horned-devil one 👿.

Because in that moment, I was straight up Satanic. 

So there I was, walking along my beautifully quiet street on a Sunday morning murmuring in tongues of anger and insecurity. I started tying it back to my late father (because who doesn’t love dad issues) and how I’m going down the same path of disappointment, blah, blah, blah.

This was the narrative. 
I was inundated. 
Flooded with emotion.

The thing was, as someone who’s in this work of spiritual development, I knew it. I fully called myself on it in the moment.

That still small voice knew better. (Always does.)
It whispered, wait
I could hear it.

But it didn’t help. This feeling was still alive. The mood was upon me like a lead blanket. I felt justified this time.

After my walk, I walked up to my apartment and went on about my day. I got distracted. I did some chores around the house. Played with Rory. Chatted with Alex. Had some food.

Soon, I noticed the clouds had parted. 
Like they do every time.

This is mundane grace.

God didn’t appear in the sky with a scroll. Butterflies and birds didn’t flock to me as a choir rang out Oh, Happy Day.

Mundane grace shows up when we get out of our heads just long enough for something new to appear in mind.

The thing about this phenomena is that it’s 100% reliable, but 98% unpredictable. We have no idea when God shows up, we just know she does.

God doesn’t live in the head. She speaks a different language. She speaks the language of the heart. When that rambling voice(s) in our heads can quiet down, then we find communion. We find grace.

When we drop out of our heads into our hearts, grace appears.

When I brought my attention back to the situation, I saw it from a much calmer, more centered place. Did I still want to do something about it? Sure.

But what I decided to do under grace was far more effective than the ‘solution’ that had shown up just a few hours earlier.


I know that divine grace is present in every moment. It’s mundane, not epic. It’s infinite in nature and can never be wasted.

Even when I’m caught up in my story, I know that as soon as my personal thinking dies down, it will tire itself out and get replaced with something new when I step aside and allow it to.

I know that, as a human, I will write narratives of my own. Narratives of dragons and evil spirits and devious schemes from others. Without those things, it’s hard to be a hero.

But there’s always a greater narrative than my ego’s own epic tale. One that doesn’t seem so exciting for the ego, but always provides a higher view. One that understands the hero and loves it into submission.

Finding myself in the middle of my own narrative isn’t a bad thing. I’m human. I feel my thinking moment to moment. Nothing is wrong with me when I find myself in the eye of a thought storm that I’ve written. The emotions I experience are only an indicator that I’ve gotten so caught up in it that I’ve drifted away from home. That I’ve loaded up my headspace with too much fear, doubt, and worry.

The next time, I’ll know that I loaded up on these thoughts because I thought they’d protect me. But I see clearly now that they’re only drowning me.

As soon as I surrender them, I can float.

Ahhhhhhh…. Mundane grace is an inextinguishable blessing that never leaves.

And so it is.