The thing is, I’ve missed the miracles.
That’s always been my biggest problem.
I’ve demanded that He to show me parted seas,
and a giant, felled by the single, slung stone.
I’ve wanted God to show me Jesus, in the flesh, walking on water.
I didn’t want the stories of the miracles. I wanted firsthand proof, something I could hold onto.
I’ve begged for the sign in the clouds,
a text from the Lord,
a flashing billboard,
or a booming voice in the ear — the kind that would rattle your insides.
So, yeah, I’ve been blind to real glory. I’ve been blind to God.
I’ve looked far off for the big thing, when the biggest miracle happens 15 times a minute inside of me.
I breathe. Fifteen times a minute, I exhale and inhale. And this — this! — is the miracle or miracles: Life in the lungs.
I hold my hand to my chest, right now, and it rises and falls in a dependable, predictable pattern. This is it! This is the everyday wonder, and right now, this is the source of my praise. This is very life. This is the sure and steady miracle. It’s life, and it’s warm, and it fills the lungs.
God. In. Us.
Take a breath,
and praise the Lord.
“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.”
— Psalm 150:6
In the comment box here last week, we spoke of the ordinary wonders of an extraordinary God. One of you mentioned breath as a miracle. Breathing comes so effortlessly, that we overlook it as a blessing. Last night, I unwrapped a box from my Blessings Unlimited party to find a hostess gift: a towel reminding me that each breath is a gift from God.