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We live in an age of high drama. Our world clamors for the extraordinary, the spectacular, the next big thing. As the contest for human attention becomes more ruthless, the ordinary rhythms of the quiet life—its “little things”—hardly attract the eyes of a digital vortex conditioned for thrill after thrill. Even in the “analog world” (that boring-sounding term for life offline), we try to dramatize our lives, add some flair, upsell our daily anecdotes, and angle to be the local influencer and center of attention. Some move from one attention hit to another, trying to recast the little things as the dramatic, seemingly big. Whether online or face-to-face, many can be so noisy, pining for and trying to produce the next big story or update, rather than embracing the ordinariness of normal humanity.
As society drifts from the biblical ideal of the quiet life, we find fresh need in Christ to embrace the glory and joy of the ordinary—“little things” such as marriage, family, a walk outside, steady labor and homemaking, and even our daily bread. In Psalm 4, David’s soul brims even though his physical provisions are sparse. He celebrates the joy that the saints have in their God, a happiness that outstrips the gladness of unbelievers even in their best times. He praises God: “You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound” (v. 7).
Observe first that if God is the focus and source of our joy, then our joy can be greater than the world’s even when their little things abound and ours do not. They have bread and wine in abundance? Well and good. We may have bare pantries and empty bottles, but we have God Almighty—so even in our most dire circumstances, our joy surpasses the world’s at its best. But what about when our grain and wine abound and we have it relatively good? Are we then destined to the eventual self-reliance, pride, and idolatry of unbelief? Not if we seek to enjoy life’s little things in God and enjoy God in the little things.
In 1 Timothy 6:17, Paul writes that God “richly provides us with everything to enjoy,” and earlier in the letter, he shows us how. Apparently, Ephesus had some ascetic false teachers trying to “forbid marriage and require abstinence from foods that God created to be received with thanksgiving” (4:3). The Apostle counters that “everything created by God is good”—marriage bed and dinner table—“and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving” (v. 4). These ordinary, everyday things are “made holy by the word of God and prayer” (v. 5). The Word of God is what God says about them: His design, His terms, His provision. Prayer, then, is what we say back to God in light of His Word, giving Him thanks for His everyday goodness and asking Him to sanctify our ordinary rhythms that He might be glorified in our enjoyment of Him in and through the ordinary.
Consciously recognizing God and thanking Him as the Giver, we enjoy God in His provision of life’s little things. We might also say that we enjoy the little things in God. Saying it either way might prove to be the same thing. Here’s the danger, however: “Enjoy God in the little things” might be the same as “Enjoy the little things in God,” and it might not. It might begin as the same but subtly shift over time.
When we have a heart that enjoys life’s little things in God, where do we find our supreme joy? Do we cherish Him supremely and count and experience Jesus as our surpassing enjoyment? Or do we slowly come to settle over time for the little things and ordinary rhythms, perhaps still under God’s name but no longer with God Himself as our great joy? How, then, might we know whether our greatest enjoyment really is in our Father in heaven, through the earthly rather than in the earthly and only dressed up in His name? How might we know that God Himself is our “exceeding joy,” the joy of our joys (Ps. 43:4), and that knowing Christ is our surpassing enjoyment?
The word “surpassing” from Philippians 3:8 is practically helpful. In a world teeming with enjoyments, what is our surpassing joy? Is it the living God in Jesus Christ? One vital aspect, among many, of our daily worship over God’s Word and weekly worship with the gathered church is the renewing, resetting, and recalibrating of our hearts to the One who is supremely valuable.
Another help is fasting. Go without the other things for a time. Test your joy. Is Jesus truly the supreme joy, the One you cannot go without? To both prove it and embed it even more deeply in your heart, go without the comforts of food and fancy drink for some brief time. Fasting shows in practice, not just theory, that Jesus is the joy of our joys.
In other words, the only true God—and Jesus Christ whom He sent (John 17:3)—is the ultimate object of Christian enjoyment. The other things of life, the rare truly big things and the countless little things that fill our hours and days, are occasions and opportunities to experience afresh our enjoyment of God.
And when the infinite, eternal, lavishly gracious God is the final focus and deepest source of our enjoyment, the capacity for our joy is unleashed. It is no longer limited by the smallness of our circumstances. We can have real joy in life’s little things without playing theater all the time, because we are not limited by the modest joys of little things. Rather, we are drawn up, again and again, into the bigness and soul-satisfying enjoyment of God Himself. Which is no small thing.
God and His glory constitute “the big thing” in the universe and the purpose and calling of our lives. When we enjoy Him, in our few extraordinary moments and our many ordinary ones, we glorify Him and fulfill our very calling and purpose.