The Ministry of Ordinary Days

Week 2: Don’t Manufacture a Storm Because You’re Used to Rain

When Chaos Has Become Too Familiar

“And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance for ever.” — Isaiah 32:17 (KJV)

Last week, I wrote about those wonderful days when nothing is wrong. No crisis. No emergency and no problem demanding an immediate solution. Just an ordinary day. But what happens when ordinary doesn’t feel normal? What happens when we have lived through so much uncertainty, conflict, loss, responsibility, or constant change that peace feels almost too quiet? Sometimes we become so accustomed to rain that when the clouds finally clear, we keep looking toward the sky. And if we aren’t careful, we may even start creating our own storms.

When Chaos Becomes Familiar

I don’t believe most people intentionally choose chaos, however sometimes we simply become accustomed to it. If life has required you to constantly respond, adjust, protect, solve, manage, or survive, you can become very good at functioning in difficult circumstances. You learn how to keep moving and you learn how to make decisions under pressure. You learn how to take care of everybody else while quietly carrying your own concerns. You also learn how to expect the unexpected. Those skills may have served you well during a difficult season, but what happens when that season changes? Sometimes our circumstances move on before our habits do. The storm ends, but we are still standing with an umbrella in our hands.

We Can Create What We Know

This is where I have learned to be careful. Because if chaos has been our normal for long enough, peace can almost feel like something is missing. So we fill the space. We revisit conversations that should have been left alone. We respond to things that didn’t require a response and we worry about situations that haven’t happened. We insert ourselves into problems that belong to someone else. Or we replay old hurts. Some of us search for hidden meaning in simple words. Sometimes we even ask, “What’s wrong?” when absolutely nothing is wrong. And perhaps the more important question is: Why does something need to be wrong for me to feel normal? That question isn’t meant to condemn us. It’s an invitation to notice ourselves. Sometimes what looks like a love of drama may actually be a familiarity with chaos. And recognizing that gives us an opportunity to choose differently.

Everybody Doesn’t Need Rescuing Today

Some of us have spent much of our lives being the person people call. We help. We encourage. We organize and we listen. We advise. We pray and we show up. Serving others can be a beautiful expression of love and purpose. But there is a question I have found myself considering: Who am I when nobody needs rescuing today? That’s an interesting question when being needed has occupied a large part of your life. There can be a subtle temptation to confuse being needed with being useful—and being useful with having purpose. But my purpose doesn’t disappear because nobody needs me to solve something today. Maybe today’s assignment isn’t to fix. Maybe it isn’t to advise or even to help. Maybe today God is simply saying: Rest.

Rest Is Not an Absence of Purpose

I think sometimes we treat rest as the space between important things. We finish one responsibility, rest briefly, and prepare ourselves for the next. But throughout Scripture, rest is not presented as wasted time. God established rhythms of work and rest from the beginning. Jesus withdrew from crowds. He stepped away from constant demands. He slept. He prayed alone because He understood something we sometimes forget: Being constantly available to everyone is not the same as being obedient to God. There are times to serve. There are times to move. There are times to respond immediately. And there are times when faithfulness looks like being still enough to recognize that God never assigned us the responsibility of managing everything. Most things can happen without us and many problems can be solved without us. Most people can make their own decisions without us.

And the world will continue turning while we sit down for a while.

Don’t Borrow Trouble

Jesus asked a simple question in Matthew 6:27: “Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?” Worry often gives us the illusion that we are doing something. If I think about the problem long enough, maybe I can prevent it. If I anticipate every possibility, perhaps I won’t be caught off guard. If I stay prepared for bad news, maybe it won’t hurt as much when it comes. But worry doesn’t give me control over tomorrow, it simply allows tomorrow to occupy today. And I have decided that today has already paid enough rent. I don’t need to lease part of it to problems that haven’t arrived.

Maybe There Isn’t a Storm Coming

This may be one of the harder lessons for those of us who have lived through difficult seasons: Every peaceful moment is not the calm before the storm. Sometimes it’s just calm. Nothing is lurking around the corner. Nobody is secretly upset. There isn’t necessarily bad news coming. The phone ringing doesn’t automatically mean something happened. And a quiet day doesn’t need to make us nervous. We can learn to let peace become familiar too.

That takes practice. Maybe instead of asking, “What am I missing?” we can begin asking: “What can I enjoy?” Maybe instead of searching for the next problem, we can notice the blessing already present. Maybe instead of manufacturing movement, we can allow ourselves to remain still.

Learning a New Normal

One of the lessons I carried from August was that seasons change whether we are ready for them or not. Sometimes we desperately want a difficult season to end. But when it finally does, we discover something unexpected: We have to learn how to live outside of it. We have to learn that every day doesn’t require survival skills and that peace is not laziness. Quiet is not emptiness and rest is not irresponsibility. We have to learn that not being needed every minute does not mean we have lost our purpose. Maybe God is teaching us another way to live. A slower way. A quieter way that doesn’t require constant adrenaline. A way where we can serve without carrying everybody. Love without controlling. We can care without worrying and help without rescuing. Maybe God is also teaching us a way where we can rest without apologizing.

A Thought to Carry With You

If you have lived through enough rain, you may have learned how to survive a storm. Be grateful for that strength. Keep the wisdom and the discernment. Keep the faith you developed while walking through difficult places. But when the rain stops, put the umbrella down. Don’t manufacture a storm simply because storms are familiar. Don’t disturb today’s peace preparing for tomorrow’s possibilities. And don’t assume that because nothing urgent needs your attention, nothing meaningful is happening. Perhaps God is doing something beautiful in the quiet. Perhaps He is teaching you that you don’t always have to survive. Sometimes you simply get to live.

Let peace become familiar.