What God Wouldn’t Let Me Forget
“The Lord your God is in your midst, a victorious warrior. He will rejoice over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.” – Zephaniah 3:17 (NASB)
Some of the most meaningful miracles in my life didn’t come with fanfare. They didn’t crash into my life during a crisis or arrive with a dramatic rescue. In fact, some moved in quietly – so quietly I didn’t recognize them as miracles until years later.
A miracle doesn’t have to reverse the laws of nature to be real.
During the Ice Storm of ‘94 in Nashville (or was it ‘93? I can never remember), I was in my early twenties and hell-bent on going home from work. I worked on Music Row, and the boss told us to just stay at the office. I wasn’t listening to all that. I was going to drive home. Period. So a colleague and I went outside and basically blowtorched the ice off of my windshield with some hairspray and a lighter, and I headed out. The roads – and I mean everything – were coated in solid ice, but I drove slow and steady. The interstate had no traffic because nobody else was as stupid as I was, so I didn’t have much of a problem navigating the four-lane interstate. I had it all to myself. I passed by a few cars on the side of the road and wondered how those people got home.
A few miles from my exit, I randomly decided to change lanes. No reason. Like I said, I had the entire four lanes to myself. I veered from the third lane into the second lane and steadied the car. About the time I got settled into the new lane, I passed a stalled car on my left. I didn’t think a thing about it that night.
For years, I barely remembered the incident and chalked the whole thing up to coincidence. That’s what I told myself – just “one of those things”. I didn’t want to be one of those people who sees a miracle every time a light turns green or a song comes on the radio. But over time, I started to see it differently. What are the odds that I’d change lanes for no reason? That there’d be a car stalled right in the path I was on before I randomly decided to change lanes? That I’d be spared so quietly and invisibly – with no clue until long after the danger passed?
Years later, I realized the blessing.
I randomly changed lanes for absolutely no reason at all, and seconds later, I passed a stalled car that I would have hit head on if I had stayed in the original lane. I was only going 30mph, so maybe I wouldn’t have died, but my car would have been wrecked, and I would have been stranded on a night when nobody else was out. There were no cell phones back then, so I couldn’t call 911. I would have had to hike for at least two solid miles in ice to get help if I didn’t freeze to death first.
God does not always work in grand displays. Sometimes His love moves in ordinary routines and daily provision. It’s the friend who checks in at the right time, or the job that opens up after months of waiting. The morning when you wake up and notice the weight has lifted just enough to take a deep breath.
We often miss the quiet miracles because we are watching for the kind that split the sky. But in my life, most of the miracles have looked like people showing up, strength returning after a long season of weariness, and clarity coming just when I needed to make a decision.
I think we sometimes undervalue the small things because they don’t seem like enough. They are under the radar enough that we can call them “coincidence” with a straight face.
A miracle doesn’t have to reverse the laws of nature to be real. It might just reverse the direction your heart was headed. It might soften something that had gone hard or make you realize something you had been blind to. It might restore trust, little by little, when you thought it was permanently broken. Or it might be something tiny that had an enormous impact that you didn’t recognize until much later. The small miracle might be just the thing that props up your faith.
Prayer of Gratitude for the Ordinary Miracles
Lord, thank You for meeting me in the ordinary. Help me be still and let You work. Help me recognize Your work even when it comes without fireworks. Amen.