From Ordinary to Extraordinary

Remember last year’s super moon? It was all the rage last November.

We stared long and hard at that super moon almost a year ago. During the last look at the moon, I thought of people all over the world who turned their faces toward the same super moon. Billions of people, turning their eyes toward one moon. It looked bigger and brighter than I can ever remember seeing it.

It appeared larger. More vivid. But still the same moon. A friend from years ago posted a picture of the same moon from his town, as it set over his city. Same moon. Different cities.

It’s as though all the world for just one moment in time, joined together and watched for the same thing. A super moon rising over every nation and over every neighborhood. A super moon reflecting the sun’s glory over every inch of this earth. No country left out of its luminous glow. No rooftop left unlit by the marvel of moonbeams.

Maybe the most super part of the super moon is that we all for one moment focused on something bigger than ourselves. Fast forward almost a year, and we were all staring at the sky again.

This time, the moon did its thing during the day. A solar eclipse was highly debated but unanimously watched as the moon jumped in front of the sun for hours, and our whole nation turned eyes toward the majesty of the two great orbs.

I checked the kids out of school, darted to the nearest park, and passed out eye protection for anyone turning their eyes toward the sun. With our solar glasses on, we saw a different sight than any of us had ever seen before.

The sun’s golden sphere gradually reduced to a black circle by a moon that’s a fraction of its size. While all of these atmospheric events are old news – a super moon almost a year ago, and a solar eclipse months ago – there’s a message written in the sky if you’re leaning in to listen.

Some things that sometimes seem different are actually always the same. Sometimes we get to view them from a different perspective.

So, like the psalmist said so many years ago, we “consider the heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have ordained.” He’s hanging stars and suns and moons in so many night skies.

I needed the lesson a year ago, and I needed it again a few months ago. Same sun. Same moon. Different results. A different sky eclipsing our ordinary view.

Most days feel like truckloads of ordinary. Ordinary schedules. Ordinary events.

But every now and then, we get an extraordinary view. Objects that haven’t changed at all shift their position slightly, and all the ordinary turns miraculous. We can’t help but turn our eyes toward what has been there all along.

There’s a preacher on one of my favorite podcasts who says it like this. “Maybe in all our longing for impact, we’ve lost sight of the impact of faithful, everyday living and doing ordinary things with great care.”

So I’m keeping on doing ordinary things. Waiting for the day the perspective shifts and for just a little while I get to stare at the extraordinary.

And maybe when the moment comes that grants a glimpse of greater things, the best part of the moment will be realizing the grandest moments always come from staring at something way bigger than ourselves.