“The God who has become incarnate in human flesh is found, first and foremost, not in meditation and monasteries, albeit God is found there, but in our homes. As Nikos Kazantzakis puts it: “Where you find husband and wife, that’s where you find God; wherever children and petty cares and cooking and arguments and reconciliation are, that is where God is too.” The God of the incarnation is more domestic than monastic.” - Ronald Rolheiser, The Holy Longing

I often find myself searching so hard for God.

I scurry around hunting waist deep in books, scripture, quiet times, meditation. By the time I’m done traipsing through all the sacred spaces, I’m too exhausted to see that He’s been here all along; delicately placed in the middle of all the ordinary things.

If I could just be still long enough, perhaps I would see this domestic God in my wife’s face as I try to slink out of bed without waking her, or in the hot shower I have the privilege of being able to take whenever I please. Perhaps I would see this God in the steam pouring out of my coffee mug made visible by a crisp fall morning, or as I drive to work through a spectacularly lackluster, suburban Chicago neighborhood.

Yes, the domestic is glorious indeed, if only I would see it.

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