An old saying (perhaps too-often cited in e-mail from well-meaning friends and family members who don’t realize that even “God Mail” can qualify as spam) reminds people “not to tell your God how big your storm is,” but to “tell your storm how big your God is.”

Which may be true, but it offers only half the story.

My God can calm the greatest storm – but he also fits neatly in a shoebox.

Someone oncetold me (when I was very small) that the huge Methodist church I attended was “God’s house.”

“Interesting,”my six year-old mind responded. “God lives in a church. If this is allHe has to listen to, I beteven he gets bored.” And I doodled in church instead of listening.

Someoneonce told me(when I was slightly older)that I needed to dress nicely in church because “that’s how we show respect for God.”

“Interesting,” my ten year-old mind responded. “God might not care what I do in street clothes.” And I didn’t think about Him when I wasn’t dressed for church.

Someone once told me (when I reached my teenage years) that Ididn’t have togo to church anymore.

“Interesting,” my thirteen year-old mind responded. “Church is only for the very young – and perhaps the very old.” And I stopped praying.

Someone once told me (in college) that only “weirdos and crazy people” believed in Jesus Christ.

“Interesting,” my nineteen year-old mind responded. “I’m too cool to be a Christian.” And I turned my back on God.

Jesus Christonce told me (in a hospital bed) that only inHim could my life have true meaning.

“Interesting,” my twenty-three year old mind responded. “I had to die in order to really live.” And I gratefully handed over the keys and learned to live again.

All too often,Christians forget (or never learned) thatGod isn’t justthe Creator of the Universe and the Reason for Church on Sunday.

One of the first lessons I learned in my Christian walk was how to disconnect the way I walked, talked, dressed and behaved on Sunday morning from the way I lived the rest of the week. Get up, dress up, sit quietly. Don’t whisper, don’t laugh, don’tkick your brother – and above all, don’t snore. Get through the service so you can get home,kick off the uncomfortable shoes and get back to yard work, ball games, Sunday afternoon movies and “the rest of your life.”

The part God apparentlydidn’t pay attention to.

Oh, don’t get me wrong.God does miracles. He heals the sick, He raises the dead. Hegave us some general instructions about living”a good life” and He expectsus to watch out for the “big-ticket items.” But he’s not really interested in the odds and ends.

At least, that’s what they told me.

Not intentionally, I’m sure. I’m fairly confident neitherthe pastornor my parentstold me God didn’t belong in my day-to-day life. But I sure picked it up between the lines. When I learned to plant seeds, no one talked with me about thefact that Godhad placed an entire plant insidea tiny pod -or that He enabled soil, water and careto release it. Windfalls and surprises came from “luck” – not from God – and while duty was its own reward, my earthlyachievements were mine alone, the work of my hands and accomplished for my glory.

God didn’t live at my house. And while He might have had a Sunday time-share in my mind, He didn’thave a home in my heart.

Separation of God from daily life is separation of daily life from God. Yet for too many Christians, “seeking first the Kingdom of God” means only Sunday-morning seeking. Anda Sunday-morning seeker who spends little or no time attempting to live all facets of his (or her) life with God often ends up no morelikely tolive a fulfilling Christian life than most Monday-morning quarterbacks are to win a Superbowl.

My God is big enough to calm a storm, to raise the dead and to part the sea. He causes the rise and fall of nations. Hespeaks tokings.

But he also cares about the treasures ina child’sshoebox. His plan for every life covers more than justthe “big-ticket items” like worship and career. He cares about whether or not I read with my son at night, and what books I read. He cares about Yak the Younger’s cockatiel (well, someone has to) and he cares about the roses in the garden. He cares that I talk with Him while I weed them, while I prune the bushes, while I mow the lawn.

“With good will render service, as to the Lord, and not to men.” (Ephesians 6.7) Perfectly reasonable, perfectly right – and located in the midst of a passage which speaks of family and daily life – not of prayer and worship. Prayer and worship belong to the LORD, and should absolutely be done for His glory.

But so should everything else.

Which means that doinganything God calls you to do with anything short of your absolute best effort is inappropriate. Singers sing. Writers write. Plumbers andelectricians do things I can’t shouldn’t do on my best days (which is probably why I was called to law). But all of them, if Christians, should also serve the LORD. And yes, you can serve the LORD while running cable or lying under a sink just as well as you can while singing, writing or practicing law. But it does take practice. Step one: being the same person on Monday morning that you were on Sunday and chucking out the notion that God “lives” at church.

Because I’ve got news for you. The church isn’t His home. Your heart is. And yes, He fits in there just fine, if you’re willing to make room.

By way of brief explanation and a tip of the horns to the prompt: I started out this morning reading one of the better posts I’ve read in a long time, and intending to write a post that pointed to the linked piece (Read it. In its entirety.) basically said”Uh, yeah,Me too.”

Thingsobviously didn’t work out that way – because, as often happens, I came over to do something simple and on the way discovered I’d inadvertently stepped on the express train to “Thought and Consideration.” (And now you’re along for the ride.)

Linked to the Beating the Bubblehead Midweek OTP at Adam’s Blog andOur Katrina Year OTP at Pursuing Holiness

Linked from Adam’s Blog (with thanks for his kind words).

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