A Wonderful Ordinary Life
There’s a sacred tension that lives in many of us—the space between the echo of a lifelong call and the slow rhythm of ordinary days. You feel the sound of a dream still burning in your bones, yet your hours are filled with holding down a job, paying bills, raising a family, and doing your best to remain faithful.
And in the quiet moments, you wonder: Have I laid the dream down? Am I falling behind? Have I become complacent?
Somewhere along the way, we bought into the lie that to be a “true artist,” you must be ethereal, tortured, detached—somehow removed from real life. But I’ve got no desire to be artsy. I want to be faithful. And part of that faithfulness is learning to see responsibility not as a weight, but as a wonder. Responsibility simply means “the ability to respond.” And right now, God is giving you the ability to respond to this season—to the sacredness woven into the ordinary.
Parents, there is no calling so great that it justifies overlooking the eyes of your children. They are not in the way of your calling. They are part of its unfolding. There is no song so urgent that it demands you trade the sound of their laughter for the applause of a room. The world has heard too many anthems written while homes fell silent.
Don’t believe the lie that you’ve missed it. You’re not behind. You’re being formed. You may not be on the road, or the stage, or in the studio. But you are living out a love song in real time. And that matters.
So here’s an invitation: begin to see the seemingly insignificant as sacred. Treat every ordinary moment as if the Holy Spirit is waiting to speak. Because He is. Scripture is full of this principle. God chose the overlooked and unknown—simple, ordinary people—to reveal His power. He spoke through pitchers, stones, bean patches, and roosters. "Consider the ravens…” (Luke 12:24) "Consider the lilies…” (Luke 12:27) Consider a rainbow—and what your daughter might learn from it because you took time to notice. Consider a baby’s smile. He loves to speak gently and let truth suddenly occur to us. And when it does, creativity is born. Because we paid attention to what the world called insignificant.
That’s how real music happens. That’s how real creativity flows. Not from pressure or performance—but from presence. From listening. From being alive to what’s right in front of you.
So don’t wait for the stage, the tour, or the perfect window of time. Let your living room become your sanctuary. Let your children’s laughter become your soundtrack. Let the quiet work of faithfulness become the foundation of your voice.
Because one day, when your voice is heard, it will carry more than sound. It will carry substance.
And that’s a legacy no platform can offer.
