Australia’s Largest Christian News Site

What if the ordinary moments of your life were never unsacred to begin with — only forgotten?

You’ve probably seen those videos of kids on the carousel at playgrounds. It starts fine — the kid’s got a good grip, maybe even laughing. But as it picks up speed, the laughter slowly turns to nervousness. Then fear, as the grip starts to slip and the body starts to lift. And then pure desperation as they fight with everything they’ve got just to not fly off.

Somewhere around the middle of last year, that was me.

On the surface, no one would’ve noticed. But those who really know me? They told me. I had gotten to a place where I was approaching each day in a reactionary posture, not a proactive one. The ups and downs of each week were dictating my emotions, my thoughts, my actions — and it was affecting my relationship with myself, with others, and with God.

When I sat with it and asked, “What can I actually learn from this?” — the honest answer wasn’t dramatic. I got so caught up in the good things around me that I missed opportunity after opportunity to choose what was better.

Mary, Martha, and the better thing

You probably know the story. Jesus comes to visit. Martha throws herself into the preparations — hosting, serving, doing all the things you’d do if the Son of God showed up at your house. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet and listens. Martha, frustrated, asks Jesus to step in. And Jesus responds not with a rebuke, but with something closer to a gentle diagnosis:

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things — but few things are needed, or indeed only one.”

It’s worth noting what Jesus doesn’t do here. He doesn’t shame her. He doesn’t call what she’s doing bad or unnecessary. He simply names her inner state: worried. Distracted. Pulled apart. In all her good and necessary activity, she had become distracted from Jesus — who was literally right there in her home.

My invitation here isn’t for us to abandon all our responsibilities and check out. It’s simpler than that: can we be a people who let the “better thing” bleed into the good and necessary things that already fill our days?

Can we reclaim the sacred moments of our lives?

“There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.”
— Wendell Berry

Reframe that for how we actually live: there are no unsacred moments. Only moments we treat as sacred — and moments we forget are sacred.

If Jesus is with us in every moment, then every moment is sacred. And if every moment is sacred, then every moment carries an invitation — to notice God with us, and to respond to Him.

All of a sudden, laundry and hitting the shops on the way home from work become touchpoints. Not because you’ve added something to your to-do list, but because you’ve started seeing what was already there.

Two parables worth sitting with

A quick note on how Jesus taught. He often used stories called parables — placing two things side by side to compare and contrast. In his case: the lifestyle of the culture around him versus the lifestyle of the Kingdom of God. In every parable, it’s worth asking: what aspect of culture is Jesus pushing back against?

The growing seed (Mark 4:26–29). A farmer scatters seed. Night and day, whether he sleeps or wakes, the seed sprouts and grows. He doesn’t know how — the soil just does what soil does.

Culture says growth comes from our control, our effort, our hustle. Jesus says: the Kingdom grows where the seed is received.

We are the soil. Every prompting of the Holy Spirit, every moment in Scripture, every minute spent with God — these are seeds with the potential to organise our reality. Our job isn’t to force the growth. Our job is to tend the garden. So honestly — what is the state of mine?

A full schedule doesn’t ruin our garden. A crowded inner life does.

The hidden treasure (Matthew 13:44–46). A man finds treasure buried in a field. In his joy, he sells everything he has to buy that field. A merchant finds one pearl of extraordinary value and does the same thing.

Culture quietly sells us a lie: you can have whatever you want without giving anything up. Jesus is saying the opposite — the Kingdom isn’t one more thing to add to your life. It’s worth giving up everything for.

I think this parable is less about the moment someone first comes to faith and more about the ongoing journey we’re all on. A more honest picture of it might look like this:

Experience God → repent and turn, selling everything in heart and intention → follow God in an endless dance where we experience more of His goodness as we bit by bit surrender and daily walk out the action of selling everything we own. Not a one-time choice. An over-and-over choice. Taste, see, sell everything. Repeat.

On that journey, each moment is an opportunity to sell everything and choose the better thing. The danger is we’re so caught up in the good stuff around us that we miss the treasure of the Kingdom right in front of us.

We don’t miss the Kingdom because it isn’t there — we miss it because we’re elsewhere.

The cost of reclaiming the sacred

Here’s the honest part: this will cost something. Reclaiming the sacred is a double-sided coin.

Building this awareness into our lives will cause us to slow down and create space. But to build the awareness, we first need to slow down and create space. We need margin.

John Mark Comer defines margin as the space between our load and our limits. Culture tells us that our load exceeding our limit is something to be proud of. The Kingdom invites us into a completely different way of living.

“Margin is how we become present. Presence is how we notice the sacred.”

Strahan Coleman puts it this way: devotion is about making space. Our habits become altars of availability. It’s not our job to fill our moments with God — that’s His job. Our job is to create the space for Him to show up.

Viewing each moment as sacred won’t happen by accident. Space needs to be made. Awareness needs to be curated. Little altars of availability need to be placed throughout our ordinary lives.

And yes, that costs something. But think about the other cost. If I spend the next ten years living in a way where I’m back on that carousel by July every year — the toll that takes on my soul, and on who I’m becoming, is a far higher price than the cost of building some margin now.

The passage ends with a promise from Jesus that’s easy to skip over: “Mary has chosen what is better — and it will not be taken away from her.” The treasure we gain is one that can never be taken from us. That’s what makes the sacrifice worth it.

Where to start

Two honest questions to sit with:

What is the state of your garden? Where are you elsewhere? And who will you be in ten years if nothing changes?

If those land somewhere uncomfortable — good. You’re not alone. The invitation is simple:

Reclaim the sacred. Find your margin. Build habits that become altars to God. Let the Better bleed into the good.

Start with one thing. Pick one. Give it three months before you add another. The engine of a non-shrinking person is small daily steps — not an overhaul.

• Sabbath: stop, rest, delight, worship
• Silence
• Thankfulness for small things — it forces you to slow down and actually notice
• Screen time — honestly, the easiest place for most of us to find margin
• Set prayer throughout the day

Further reading:

• The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry – John Mark Comer
• Beholding – Strahan Coleman
• Every Moment Holy
• The Practice of the Presence of God – Brother Lawrence

___

Image courtesy of Adobe.