If there’s one thing I’ve learned as an adult trying to follow Jesus, it’s that most days aren’t spiritual mountaintop moments. They’re Tuesdays. Regular, slightly-overcaffeinated, “where did all these emails come from” Tuesdays.
And honestly? That’s where most of the Christian life actually happens.
We like to imagine our faith in big cinematic scenes — revival tents, dramatic testimonies, angels descending with a Spotify-worthy soundtrack. But the real battle is you at 6:37 a.m., staring at your phone trying to decide whether to open the Bible app or scroll social media like a raccoon rummaging through a dumpster.
Just me? Probably not.
Walking with Jesus on an ordinary day starts with admitting something simple: your relationship with God isn’t built on emotions — it’s built on direction. You don’t need fireworks. You just need a step. One. And then another. And another. Even if they look boring to everyone else.
For me, Tuesdays are the day I usually feel the least spiritual. Maybe it’s because Monday has worn off and Wednesday isn’t close enough to give hope. But that’s also the day I find God speaking the loudest in the small things — a gentle reminder to slow down, take a breath, and not treat every inconvenience like it’s a personal attack from the universe. (I’m still working on that part.)
Christian living is, in many ways, a practice of catching yourself before your inner attitude turns into a full nine-episode Netflix series. You know the one — “Trials, Tribulations, and Why Everyone Is Wrong Except Me.”
Instead, Jesus calls us to something quieter… and somehow harder. Grace. Patience. Humility. Choosing kindness when the situation definitely did not earn it. The fruits of the Spirit sound lovely until you’re actually asked to use them, and suddenly you’re like, “Lord, this would be easier if people weren’t involved.”
But that’s exactly the point — our character isn’t developed in silence. It’s developed in traffic, at work, in the grocery store, at 11 p.m. when the cat knocks something off the counter for absolutely no reason.
The truth is, Christian living is a lifestyle of micro-decisions. Tiny moments where you either choose frustration or choose faith. Snap or stay still. React or remember who you belong to. And 99% of the time, nobody else sees those moments, but God does. And they matter to Him.
Because the Christian life isn’t something we switch on for church and switch off when we’re in line at Walmart. It’s woven into everything — how we speak to our spouse, how we treat people who can’t do anything for us, how we spend our downtime, how we handle the moments when we’re tired, annoyed, or one minor inconvenience away from losing our sanctification altogether.
And yes, there will be days when you nail it. You’ll feel like a walking, talking devotional booklet. Birds will practically sing when you step outside. And then the next day you’ll snap at someone for breathing wrong and wonder how on earth sanctification is supposed to work.
But that’s the beauty of following Jesus — it’s a long game. A lifelong one, actually. Spiritual growth isn’t measured by perfection; it’s measured by direction. Are you walking with Him? Are you trying? Are you learning, even slowly? Are you turning back when you wander?
If so, that’s Christian living.
So when Tuesday rolls around again — when the coffee’s weak, the to-do list is long, and you’re feeling less like a saint and more like a tired human — remember this: Jesus is walking with you in the ordinary. He’s not waiting for you on the mountaintop while you slog through the valley alone. He’s in the valley. He’s in the cubicle. He’s in the commute. He’s even in the moment when you mutter, “Lord, help me,” because He knows that’s the point when you actually mean it.
Christian living isn’t glamorous. But it’s real. And that’s where He meets us — not in the dramatic, but in the daily.
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