Look down to find God

Today's assignment was simple: find God.

While waiting for my flight, I sat in the terminal watching people hurry from one gate to the next. Then something unexpected caught my attention. Two small children were joyfully kicking a soccer ball back and forth, creating their own little match in the middle of an airport.

To many, it was probably an annoyance. The ball rolled beneath rows of seats. A little girl chased after it, weaving through luggage and travelers as though she were playing in her own backyard, completely unaware that anyone might be inconvenienced. She wasn't being careless—she was simply being a child.

I smiled and quietly asked, "God, why are You showing me this?"

It seemed so ordinary. A soccer ball in an airport terminal.

When I boarded the plane, I noticed one of the flight attendants trying to find a place for that very same soccer ball in the overhead bin. I couldn't help but smile again. I wondered what she was thinking. Who brings a soccer ball on a plane?

A few moments later, just as everyone was seated, buckled in, and ready for departure, the children's father hurried his young son back up the aisle for an emergency trip to the restroom.

I'm sure many people—including me—had the same first thought:

"Really? Right now?"

Then something changed.

I watched a father who wasn't concerned with the impatience of strangers or the inconvenience of delaying a flight. His only concern was his son. Love outweighed embarrassment. Compassion outweighed public opinion.

And again, I found God.

Isn't that how our Heavenly Father loves us?

He doesn't wait for a convenient moment to care for His children. He doesn't seek permission to show mercy. He isn't distracted by the opinions of the crowd. He simply comes to us, meeting our needs with the quiet attentiveness of a loving Father.

I've heard it said, "If you're looking for God, you're looking too high." I don't know who first said those words, but there is wisdom in them.

We often expect God to reveal Himself through dramatic signs, extraordinary miracles, or world-changing events. Certainly He can. But most of His miracles are far quieter than that.

They are hidden in ordinary moments.

In a child's laughter.

In a father caring for his son.

In a flight attendant patiently making room for a soccer ball.

In a delayed departure that reminds us what truly matters.

The miracle isn't always the event itself. Sometimes the miracle is simply having eyes to see what has been there all along.

That little soccer ball became more than a toy. It became a thread that quietly connected one beautiful moment to another. A child's innocence. A father's love. A stranger's patience. My own heart being gently redirected toward what matters.

Everything was connected.

Everything pointed back to God.

Perhaps that's the invitation for all of us—not to spend our lives searching for extraordinary evidence of God, but to awaken to His presence in the ordinary.

Because once you begin looking, you'll discover He has been there all along.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands."
—Psalm 19:1

Prayer

Father, give me eyes to see You in the ordinary moments of life. Help me not to overlook the quiet miracles that surround me each day. Teach me to recognize Your love in a child's laughter, in an act of compassion, in simple acts of kindness, and in the unnoticed beauty of everyday life. May I stop searching for spectacular signs and instead discover that You have been with me all along. Amen.

If I know anything about God, He is just as present in a rolling soccer ball as He is on a mountaintop. The miracle is not that He appears in extraordinary places—it is that He never stops revealing Himself in ordinary ones.