Estimated reading time: 4 minutes:-)
Nobody likes them.
If you’re like me, usually you’re tired, unprepared, and definitely not ready for another long week. I struggle to find the positive in Mondays, at least internally. How can God be present through the exhaustion, the endless hours of school and work, the numerous homework assignments late at night?
So I challenged myself.
Last Monday, I decided to make an effort throughout the day to look for God.
In the little things. The big things. The weekly routines and the daily routines. I looked for God. And this is what I found:
I see God in the morning light as it glints off my little brother’s eyes. He says goodbye to me, clutching his blanket as I leave for school. He looks so small. And I’m reminded that God loves me through these small children, these small, round faces I get to see every single day.
I see God in the breeze as I walk down the driveway. As it wraps around me and opens my eyes.
I hear God through my headphones as I paint—the melodies of strings wavering, the pulse of drum beats and piano keys dancing in my ears. I’m amazed at how beautiful God’s creation is, how three-dimensional and dynamic his designs are. How I was made with the same hands.
As I paint the portrait I’m supposed to finish on Friday for art class, I’m reminded of the fundamental hallmarks of the human face. The curve around the jaw. The slant of the nose and cradle of the eye socket. How the light bounces off each feature and reflects hundreds of colors, all singing in unison. How intentional God created this face. How intentional God created every face—your face.
I see God in the smiling faces I pass in the hallway. I’m reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:12. “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror, then we shall see face to face.” All these smiles, from freshmen and sophomores and juniors and seniors, they’re all reflections of something greater, something behind the scenes.
I see God as I hoist the Christian flag in the morning, cradled against the American flag, rippling in the wind. The light glimmers through the blue and white squares.
In morning chapel, I watch the flames dance on top of the two candles behind the chapel speaker’s bobbing head. It shifts with wind, with breath, with movement, yet doesn’t go out. I’m reminded of God’s steadfastness. I’m reminded of God’s peace in the storm.
I see God in my good friend, an exchange student, as we go back and forth, attempting to cross the broken barriers between our two languages. I see God as we both laugh at something, as we understand each other so well without speaking it’s a miracle.
I see God in the faint gestures of love from my teachers and peers. Someone holds a door for me. Another compliments my outfit, finds something good to say about me even when I can’t think of anything myself.
As I drive to work, a car gestures me forward, letting me turn left even in traffic. Thank you, Jesus.
At work, I look out the store front and see a hazy sunset, blue and orange and yellow and red. God does his best painting on Mondays, I guess. It’s baffling.
I drive home in the dark and see a round moon looking down at me. White and calm and still. God’s presence, but cold. God’s face, but colorless.
Finally, at the end of a long day, a stillness settles on my shoulders. A peace that only comes from Christ, that transcends understanding. All the noise dies as I sit in my car and blink around in the darkness. The weight of the world lifts from my shoulders and is replaced with the hands of God, resting there in confident assurance. Confident assurance that God is present in every minute of every day, right by my side. Confident assurance that God is here, even here.
How can Mondays be so bad when we have heaven to look forward to? How can any day be bad when Christ walks with us every step of the way?
I challenge you: this Monday, look for God. Look for his blessings in the mundane. Jeremiah 29:13 says, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Seek for God even when it is difficult. And I promise, God will be there, even on Mondays.