How to Find God in the Daily Grind: The Mystery of Ordinary Time
By: Dr. Rian Adams
Ordinary Time. Even the name sounds dull. After the candlelit beauty of Christmas, the aching depths of Lent, the trumpet shouts of Easter, and the fiery feast of Pentecost… here comes that long green stretch of Sundays where, frankly, nothing much seems to happen.
In medieval England, villagers referred to this period as “the dull weeks.” There’s even a record of a 14th-century peasant who told his priest he’d be skipping services during Ordinary Time since, quote, “God’s on holiday ‘til Advent.” The priest responded by fining him a penny for each missed Sunday—which honestly feels like a side hustle in vestments.
But here’s the twist: Ordinary Time isn’t ordinary at all.
In fact, it might be the most spiritually important season of the entire church year — especially for those of us trying to make sense of God in the middle of carpool lines, staff meetings, dishes, family challenges, financial hardships, life changes, and the ache of routine.
Let’s unpack the mystery.
Wait — What Is Ordinary Time?
In the liturgical calendar, Ordinary Time refers to two blocks of time: a short one after Epiphany and a long one after Pentecost. These are the “numbered Sundays” that stretch into late summer and fall, wrapped in green vestments and often overlooked.
But the word ordinary here doesn’t mean boring. It comes from the Latin ordinalis — meaning “numbered” or “ordered.” So this season isn’t filler. It’s a long, spacious walk through Jesus’ life and teachings. His parables. His miracles. His meals with outcasts. His very human, very divine presence in the world.
And it’s green for a reason: this is the season of growth — not flashy, overnight growth, but slow, deep, root-strengthening growth.
The Green That Was Almost Gone
Fun fact: green wasn’t always the color for Ordinary Time. In medieval Europe, depending on where you lived, clergy might wear red, yellow, or even black vestments during this season. It wasn’t until the post-Reformation years that green became the official color, symbolizing life, renewal, and steady faith.
That green fabric on the altar isn’t just tradition — it’s the result of centuries of churches finding common ground. And now it quietly reminds us: even when life feels like it’s on repeat, God is still planting, still growing, still moving in us.
God in the Kitchen Sink
Most of our days aren’t Christmas. They aren’t Easter. They’re not even Lent. They’re dishes and errands and budget meetings. They’re “What’s for dinner?” and “Why are there socks in the driveway?” They’re loss, hope, and grace all tangled up in the ordinary.
And this is where Ordinary Time shines.
Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century monk, famously said he found more of God “in the kitchen among the pots and pans” than anywhere else. That’s the whole point. Ordinary Time trains us to see God in the daily grind. Not just in the cathedral, but in the cubicle. Not just in communion, but in conversation. Not just on the mountaintop, but in the Monday.
It’s the season that dares to say: This day is holy. Even this.
Jesus Lived an Ordinary Life, Too
Think about it — most of Jesus’ life was quiet. For 30 years, he lived in a backwater town with a hammer in his hand and dirt under his nails. And even after his public ministry began, he spent more time walking dusty roads and eating with friends than performing miracles.
The Gospels are full of Jesus doing normal things: teaching, sitting, eating, weeping. He wasn’t sprinting from one high moment to the next. He was deeply present — to the people right in front of him, in the moment they were in.
Ordinary Time asks us to do the same.
Go Deeper Rather Than Chase Higher
We live in a world obsessed with spiritual highs. The next conference. The next podcast. The next worship song that gives us chills. But faith — real, sustaining, rooted faith — isn’t built on constant mountaintop moments.
Ordinary Time whispers a different invitation: go deeper, not higher.
This season trains us for the long haul. Not the flash of conversion, but the depth of formation. Not the emotional high of Easter, but the steady love of a God who shows up in silence, in slowness, in repetition.
It’s not flashy. It’s not marketable. But it’s holy.
It’s waking up and praying when no one sees.
It’s forgiving again when it would be easier not to.
It’s staying in the room — with your church, with your family, with your God — when you’d rather walk away.
This is the soul work of Ordinary Time: learning to love without the high, to serve without applause, to grow without spectacle.
Because fruit doesn’t come from the rush of the mountaintop. It comes from the roots you build when no one is watching.
Five Ways to Embrace the Season
If you’re spiritually bored, spiritually burned out, or spiritually “meh,” this season might be just what your soul needs. Here’s how to engage it:
Light a Candle for Daily Prayer
Just one. At the start of your day. Invite God into the ordinary before chaos begins.
Pick One Gospel and Read It Slowly—Even if it’s only a few verses or stories each day.
This year’s lectionary cycle is then the Gospel of Luke, so give the physician Luke a chance to tell you about the life and ministry of Jesus. No need to rush. One story at a time. Let Jesus surprise you.
Show Up to Church, Even When You Don’t Feel Like It
There’s grace in the rhythm. The habit changes you, even when the feeling doesn’t.
Practice One Hidden Act of Kindness a Week
Small, unseen gestures. That’s the stuff of saints.
Start a “God in the Mundane” Journal
Write down one moment each day, or each week, where you noticed beauty, grace, or the presence of God in something utterly normal. One parishioner recently told me that they listen closely to the sermon on Sunday and “…look forward to the moment when a single sentence speaks to me deeply. Then I write it down, put it on the fridge for that week, and use it as a motivational quote or spiritual reminder.”
The Secret Season
So yes — this is the church’s longest season. There are no lilies. No incense clouds. No trumpets.
But there’s something beautiful here.
Ordinary Time is where faith matures. Where the fireworks fade and the roots dig deep. It’s where we become disciples in the quiet. It’s where we find that God has never once stepped away from the kitchen, the cubicle, or the chaos.
Join us!
So come. Join us. The green weeks are here — and they’re anything but ordinary.
St. James Episcopal Church – Port St. Joe, Florida
Discover how the beauty of tradition, the rhythm of prayer, and the quiet work of grace are still transforming lives. You’ll find us right where you need us: in the heart of the ordinary, pointing to the holy.