My reading plan through the Gospels brought me to Luke this week, and I can’t get over the contrast between what appears to be happening on earth and what heaven knows is happening.

Two pregnant women greet one another. A young couple welcomes their firstborn son. Shepherds work the night shift. An elderly man and woman faithfully wait on the promises of God.

From an earthly perspective, these moments might not have looked particularly significant.

But heaven knew differently.

I keep thinking about Mary and Elizabeth.

To anyone looking in, it was simply two relatives spending time together. A young woman visiting her older relative. Nothing particularly remarkable about that.

But these two women knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

Elizabeth was carrying the child who would prepare the way for the Messiah. Mary was carrying the Messiah Himself.

And when Mary arrived, Elizabeth’s baby leaped in her womb, she was filled with the Holy Spirit, and the two women celebrated what God was doing.

Just imagine that scene. Somewhere in an obscure Judean village, tucked away from the attention of the world, two women are rejoicing over the fulfillment of promises generations had been waiting for.

What looked like an ordinary family visit was actually a profoundly holy moment.

And almost nobody knew.

And then there are the shepherds.

I imagine they showed up to work that evening expecting another ordinary night. Same hillside. Same sheep. Same responsibilities.

They had no idea what was happening in Bethlehem.

Until suddenly, heaven pulled back the curtain.

An angel appeared, announcing that the Savior had been born. And then, as if one angel weren’t enough, the sky filled with a multitude of heavenly hosts praising God!

Can you imagine?

One minute you’re watching sheep. The next, you’re witnessing a heavenly celebration over the arrival of the long-awaited Messiah.

And I love what the shepherds do next.

They go!

They leave the hillside and hurry to Bethlehem to see for themselves what the Lord has made known to them.

I wonder what they did with their sheep? 🤔

And after finding Mary, Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger, they begin telling everyone what they’ve seen and heard.

It’s as though heaven couldn’t contain the good news, and now neither can the shepherds.

What began as another ordinary night at work became a moment they would never forget.

Reading these stories makes me wonder how much of God’s activity I overlook in my own ordinary days.

Not that I expect angels to appear while I’m folding laundry. (Although, if they wanted to help fold it, I wouldn’t complain.)

But how often am I moving through my days, completely unaware of what God might be doing right in front of me?

I think about having coffee with a friend, going for a run, lingering over a bedtime conversation with one of my kids, or dropping off a meal for someone who’s sick.

Most of these moments don’t feel particularly spiritual. They’re just life.

But every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of something deeper. A conversation that reveals how God has been working in someone’s heart. A moment with my children when I recognize that something I’ve been praying for or trying to cultivate is beginning to take root.

And I realize that God has been at work all along, even when I couldn’t see it.

So how do we cultivate eyes to recognize what He’s doing?

Maybe it starts with slowing down.

We rush from one thing to the next, moving through our days with barely enough time to catch our breath, much less notice what’s happening around us. We’re distracted by our responsibilities, our schedules, our phones, and the never-ending list of things that need our attention. When we finally do have a moment, we turn on a screen and zone out. Guilty. 🙋‍♀️

Maybe cultivating awareness means learning to pause throughout the day and ask:

Lord, where are You in this moment? What are You doing? How are You inviting me to engage? And would You give me eyes to see?

I think it also means remembering.

Remembering what God has done in Scripture. Remembering His faithfulness in our own lives. Returning to worship, prayer, community, and the rhythms that remind us who He is.

When I remember how God has moved in the past, it helps me trust that He is still at work, even when I can’t see what He’s doing now.

The shepherds received an angelic announcement that revealed the significance of that night. Most of us won’t get one of those.

But we have something they didn’t yet have: the full story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. We know the God who entered the world through a humble manger, who revealed the Kingdom of God around dinner tables, along dusty roads, and in everyday conversations, and whose greatest victory came through what looked like defeat.

I love that God was at work in both a quiet family visit and an ordinary night in the fields. One moment was intimate and almost hidden. The other came with an angelic announcement. Both were profoundly holy.

Sometimes God interrupts our ordinary days with extraordinary moments. Suddenly, we recognize something of what He’s been doing all along.

But more often, I suspect, life just keeps looking ordinary.

The grocery shopping still has to be done, the mail still needs sorting, and the kids still have to be reminded to brush their teeth. Again.

And yet, I wonder how much God is doing that I simply cannot see.

I don’t want to become so distracted by the ordinary that I forget God is at work. I want to slow down, pay attention, and remain open to the ways He might invite me to participate in what He’s doing.

And on the days when I don’t see anything remarkable, I want to remember that my perspective is limited. There is probably more going on than meets the eye.

The absence of an extraordinary moment doesn’t mean the absence of an extraordinary God.