Looking for the Miracles

I got up on a ladder yesterday… and even got up the nerve to tell my wife!

I know. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But there was a battery charger that needed to be wired to my generator battery, and I wanted to see if I could do it myself.

And I did.

I climbed the ladder. I figured out the wiring. I connected the charger. When I finished, everything worked exactly as it should.

That may not sound like a miracle to everyone, but it felt like one to me.

Lately, I have found myself focusing on all the things I can’t do right now. It is easy to make a mental list of my limitations—to notice what has become difficult, what takes longer than it used to, and what I need someone else to do for me.

When we are living with limitations, the things we cannot do have a way of becoming the loudest things in the room. They demand our attention. If we aren’t careful, they can begin to shape how we see the whole of our lives.

Hebrews 3:9 speaks about the Israelites in the wilderness. God says that they tested Him even though they had seen His miracles for forty years.

They saw what God had done, but somehow they stopped looking for what He was doing.

That verse made me wonder how often I do the same thing.

How many of God’s miracles have I missed because I was staring at my limitations? How many small victories have I dismissed because they didn’t look dramatic enough? How often have I focused so intently on what I could not do that I failed to thank God for what I could?

Yesterday, I could wire up a battery charger.

Yesterday, I could climb the ladder, work with my hands, solve the problem, and finish the job.

Yesterday, God gave me a miracle.

It wasn’t the kind of miracle that would make the evening news. There was no crowd gathered to watch it happen. No one stood nearby applauding when the charger came on. It was just me, a ladder, some wires, and a generator battery.

But perhaps many of God’s miracles are like that.

Perhaps they are tucked inside ordinary moments, waiting for us to notice them. They may look like having enough strength for one more step, enough clarity to solve a problem, enough courage to try something difficult, or enough grace to accept help when we need it.

A miracle does not always mean that every limitation disappears. Sometimes the miracle is discovering what is still possible in the middle of those limitations.

I do not want to pretend the things I cannot do are unimportant. Some losses are real, and some limitations are painful. Faith does not require us to deny them. But I also do not want those limitations to become the only things I can see.

I want to become someone who looks for the miracles.

I want to notice the strength God provides today instead of only mourning the strength I do not have. I want to remember what He has already done instead of assuming He has stopped working. I want gratitude to speak louder than frustration.

Maybe that is one of the lessons of Hebrews 3:9: seeing God’s works is not always the same as truly noticing them. We can stand in the middle of His faithfulness and still miss it if our attention is fixed somewhere else.

So today, I am choosing to remember yesterday’s miracle.

I wired a battery charger to my generator battery—all by myself.

Actually… I should say… “With God’s help… and protection.”