The Gift I Almost Failed to Recognise
Sometimes the things that shape our lives spend years hiding in plain sight.
Welcome to today’s reflection.
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I sometimes wonder how some of the most important things in our lives go unnoticed for so long.
I see this in my own life. For example, writing is now one of the most important rhythms of my life. It is no longer simply what I do professionally; it has become a daily ritual and a way of making sense of the world. It also connects me with thousands of people like you, who keep wondering about the biggest questions in life.
Most mornings, I sit down with a blank screen, a cup of coffee, Hank snoring beside me, and open a passage of Scripture. By the time I stand up again, I feel as though I have spent time with God as much as I have spent time writing. Many of the articles you read begin with your comments and questions. In a strange way, writing has become a conversation, even though most of us have never met.
The strange thing is that, for years, I never saw any of this coming.
When I was a parish priest, writing was simply one small part of the job. There were sermons to prepare, magazine articles to finish, newsletters to produce, reports to write, and endless emails to answer. I enjoyed parts of it, but it always felt like something that sat alongside the real work of ministry rather than being part of it.
It was necessary. Sometimes even enjoyable, but rarely something I gave much thought.
If someone had told me then that writing would one day become my vocation, not simply something I did but the thing through which I experienced God most consistently, I would probably have smiled politely before carrying on with the next parish meeting.
— • —
It makes me wonder how often that happens to all of us.
How often are we standing beside something that will eventually take on far greater importance, shaping our lives, whilst we dismiss it because it doesn’t yet look significant?
The fact is that many of life’s turning points are already in front of us. We might expect them to announce themselves with certainty, as though we’ll instinctively recognise them when they appear. But when we look back, life rarely works like that.
The moments that change us most often arrive disguised as ordinary routines, unnoticed conversations, or responsibilities we barely appreciate at the time.
That thought came back to me recently while rereading the story of Naaman.
You may know this ancient Bible story. Naaman is a highly successful military commander who travels to Israel in the hope of being healed of leprosy. He expects a big encounter with the prophet Elisha, but instead, he is simply told to go and wash seven times in the River Jordan.
He almost turns around and goes home.
That is the sentence I couldn't get out of my mind. Naaman had travelled all that way carrying the hope of healing, only to come within moments of walking away from it.
The healing was never the problem. His expectations were.
He had already decided what healing should look like. It should be impressive. It should involve an important prophet, a dramatic gesture, and a solution worthy of someone of his status.
Instead, healing arrived in the form of an ordinary river and a simple instruction.
For a few moments, that was enough for him to reject it.
— • —
I wonder how often we do something similar.
Not because we reject God’s gifts outright, but because they arrive in ways we weren’t expecting, or maybe because they have always been around.
Perhaps we overlook the friendship that slowly changes us while we wait for a dramatic answer to prayer. Perhaps we dismiss an opportunity because we feel like something better will come along. Perhaps we fail to notice a calling because it first appears as an ordinary responsibility.
Or perhaps, like me, we spend years treating something as little more than a task before discovering that it has actually become one of the places where God has been meeting us all along.
Naaman eventually listened to his servants. He laid aside the story he had written in his own mind and stepped into the Jordan as instructed. Only then did he discover that the miracle had been waiting for him all along.
I wonder what I would have missed if life had continued exactly as I expected.
If early retirement had never happened, and writing had remained just another weekly obligation. What if I had never discovered that the thing I once regarded as an inconvenience had become one of the greatest gifts God has ever given me?
Perhaps that’s why this story still speaks so powerfully today. Not because most of us are standing beside a river waiting for healing. But because all of us are capable of overlooking the very thing that may one day change our lives.
Sometimes the greatest gifts don’t arrive wrapped in excitement.
Sometimes they arrive disguised as ordinary life.
And only years later do we realise that they were gifts all along.
What if the thing that will one day change your life is already part of your ordinary routine?
Thank you for reading today’s reflection.
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I am very grateful you are here.
Paul.
Recently I checked in with my oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in Manhattan. Like Naaman, my narrative was full of my own expectations, as in, I have come to this high temple of cancer cures, now work your magic. While impractical, I only wish my doctor had told me to wash it off in the Hudson River. Instead, she said, "Just go home and live your life, grateful for each day." That's it? Yes, I guess that's it.
I have told myself this very thing, "I hate to write", thus every prompting, journaling, taking notes, my penmanship, etc.. My ego rationalized them away. It all began in high school and now 40 years later, He wouldn't let it go. It begins now!!! Thanks for you timely, He always is. Post.
Be Blessed Brother