02/13/2025
After all these years, I’ve finally realized something: I have a tendency to romanticize life. In my mind, there’s always something better just beyond my reach—a better job, a better house, a better car, a better relationship. (Not that I’ve personally experienced the last one, but I’ve seen others wrestle with it.)
The problem with romanticism is that it blinds us to the sacredness of the ordinary. It convinces us that God must be found in the extraordinary, in grand gestures and sweeping moments, rather than in the daily rhythms of life—the early mornings, the meals shared, the commutes, the bedtime routines, and the quiet spaces in between.
But romanticism is just not sustainable. Just ask any of us who have tried to chase the high of an idealized life. The tide comes in, and the tide goes out. Blessed be the name of the Lord. And when the tide inevitably recedes, romanticism often collapses into resignation. “I’ll never love again.” “This is just how life is.” “My situation is hopeless.”
When we’re always longing for the extraordinary, waking up to the ordinary feels like a disappointment. Romanticism and resignation are two sides of the same coin—both rooted in an all-or-nothing mindset where life is either dazzlingly beautiful or unbearably dull.
But Jesus offers us a better way. He calls us to Romantic Realism. God does, at times, break into our lives in extraordinary ways. But more often, He meets us in the mundane. He worked through mighty prophets and judges, but He also chose a widow and a little boy to teach us profound lessons of faith (Mark 12:43; John 6:9).
Romantic Realism allows us to see the beauty in brokenness, to recognize that even in the midst of routine, flowers still bloom, and the sun still rises. It teaches us to be content in the present while still longing for “a better country, that is, a heavenly one” (Hebrews 11:16).
As Zack Eswine so wisely wrote:
“If you are wearing yourself out trying to be and do more than this, Jesus is calling you to stop all this tramping about and come finally home. The great work to be done is right in front of you with the persons and places that his providence has granted you... Here is where he is working. Here is my past, my place, my life, his glory.” (The Imperfect Pastor, 249)
So let’s not miss the beauty of today because we’re fixated on tomorrow. This Valentine’s Day, and every day, let’s celebrate the God who meets us in the ordinary—and who, in His time, also specializes in doing the extraordinary.
