What is your favourite time of the liturgical year? My guess is that most people would put Christmas or Easter at the top of their lists. Missional types like Rogation Days because that’s traditionally the time when congregations “beat the bounds” of their parish, to pray for the neighbourhood where they live and move and have their ministry.
As for the rest, well, maybe Advent would get some votes for the sense of expectancy it brings—although Christmas rather overshadows that—and maybe Pentecost, especially among the charismatically inclined. Lent? Not so much
So far, I haven’t heard any votes for what is called Ordinary Time. This is the period between Pentecost in the spring and Advent in the late fall, which is between 18 and 23 weeks long. If we are honest, many of us think of this period as pretty boring, because there are no big celebrations—and it’s a long period to go without. Fortunately, the summer comes during that period, so there are lots of things to distract us quite apart from church celebrations.
The appeal of routine
C.S. Lewis had a quite different attitude to Ordinary Time. For him, it was his favourite time of the liturgical year. Why? Precisely because of the repetitive routine that so many of us find boring. But how can that possibly appeal to anyone?
The answer is that, in the life of a Christian disciple, steady, daily attention to one’s faith is a supreme but undervalued quality. Of course, there are mountaintops in the life of faith—splendid worship services, memorable conferences, overwhelming moments of awe as we are faced with God’s wonderful creation, dramatic answers to prayer, and so on. These things are precious, and I would be the last person to denigrate such experiences. There are also dark valleys in the life of faith—times of doubt and of suffering, times when God seems a million miles away, and times when prayers into which we put our heart and soul, are not answered. But most of life is not lived either on the mountaintops or in the deepest valleys. Most of our days are somewhere in the middle, humdrum and ordinary, and it’s easy to underestimate their importance.
When I was teaching at Wycliffe College, I confess that going to early morning chapel was not my favourite activity, even when I stayed over at the college and had only steps to walk. But I felt chastened by the example of a colleague who, day after day, walked half an hour across town in order to be at morning chapel. I once commented to him how impressive this was. He shrugged and said with a smile, “I think of it as being like breakfast. There is not necessarily anything special about my breakfast, but I eat it every day. For me, chapel is a form of spiritual breakfast.” I confess his words didn’t make me any more enthusiastic about getting up early, but it did make me think about the value of ordinary, even boring, routines. Like breakfast.
The walk of faith
The New Testament confirms the value of the mundane. There is a very important word St. Paul uses some 20 times. It’s the little word “walk.” He urges us to walk in the light, to walk in the truth, to walk in faith, to walk in newness of life, to walk in a way that pleases God, to walk in the vocation to which we have been called. Sometimes modern versions translate the word as “live your life” like this or “behave” like that, which may be more colloquial for us, but which masks that simple picture of “walking” the Christian life.
The dictionary describes walking as you might expect: “to move along by putting one foot in front of the other.” Walking is steady, repetitive, undramatic, methodical—and it gets you where you are going in the end. Simple—but effective.
Why does this matter? Because the “walk” of faith and truth and love is the essence of being a Christian. The Christian walk is what discipleship is all about. Choosing to love with a steady, repeated determination. Choosing truth over lies with boring predictability. Praying because it’s the right thing to do. Making a habit of hope rather than despair every time the choice presents itself. Today. And then the same tomorrow. And the day after.
What does that look like in practice? Daily prayer and Bible reading. Greeting the panhandler on the corner. Asking the young server in the coffee shop how her studies are going. Apologizing to my spouse after I have failed to listen—again. Thanking the priest for the sermon, however good or bad it was. Not skipping my tithe. Remembering to pray for people when I’ve said I would. Giving thanks before a meal. Choosing not to repeat a bit of juicy gossip I’ve just heard.
Few people notice such things. None of these disciplines (for that is what they are) is earth-shaking or dramatic. But they are what the life of faith looks like on a daily basis. Discipleship is a matter of repeated choice. Just like breakfast. Or walking. And it gets us where God calls us to go.
In Praise of Ordinary Time
What is your favourite time of the liturgical year? My guess is that most people would put Christmas or Easter at the top of their lists. Missional types like Rogation Days because that’s traditionally the time when congregations “beat the bounds” of their parish, to pray for the neighbourhood where they live and move and have their ministry.
As for the rest, well, maybe Advent would get some votes for the sense of expectancy it brings—although Christmas rather overshadows that—and maybe Pentecost, especially among the charismatically inclined. Lent? Not so much
So far, I haven’t heard any votes for what is called Ordinary Time. This is the period between Pentecost in the spring and Advent in the late fall, which is between 18 and 23 weeks long. If we are honest, many of us think of this period as pretty boring, because there are no big celebrations—and it’s a long period to go without. Fortunately, the summer comes during that period, so there are lots of things to distract us quite apart from church celebrations.
The appeal of routine
C.S. Lewis had a quite different attitude to Ordinary Time. For him, it was his favourite time of the liturgical year. Why? Precisely because of the repetitive routine that so many of us find boring. But how can that possibly appeal to anyone?
The answer is that, in the life of a Christian disciple, steady, daily attention to one’s faith is a supreme but undervalued quality. Of course, there are mountaintops in the life of faith—splendid worship services, memorable conferences, overwhelming moments of awe as we are faced with God’s wonderful creation, dramatic answers to prayer, and so on. These things are precious, and I would be the last person to denigrate such experiences. There are also dark valleys in the life of faith—times of doubt and of suffering, times when God seems a million miles away, and times when prayers into which we put our heart and soul, are not answered. But most of life is not lived either on the mountaintops or in the deepest valleys. Most of our days are somewhere in the middle, humdrum and ordinary, and it’s easy to underestimate their importance.
When I was teaching at Wycliffe College, I confess that going to early morning chapel was not my favourite activity, even when I stayed over at the college and had only steps to walk. But I felt chastened by the example of a colleague who, day after day, walked half an hour across town in order to be at morning chapel. I once commented to him how impressive this was. He shrugged and said with a smile, “I think of it as being like breakfast. There is not necessarily anything special about my breakfast, but I eat it every day. For me, chapel is a form of spiritual breakfast.” I confess his words didn’t make me any more enthusiastic about getting up early, but it did make me think about the value of ordinary, even boring, routines. Like breakfast.
The walk of faith
The New Testament confirms the value of the mundane. There is a very important word St. Paul uses some 20 times. It’s the little word “walk.” He urges us to walk in the light, to walk in the truth, to walk in faith, to walk in newness of life, to walk in a way that pleases God, to walk in the vocation to which we have been called. Sometimes modern versions translate the word as “live your life” like this or “behave” like that, which may be more colloquial for us, but which masks that simple picture of “walking” the Christian life.
The dictionary describes walking as you might expect: “to move along by putting one foot in front of the other.” Walking is steady, repetitive, undramatic, methodical—and it gets you where you are going in the end. Simple—but effective.
Why does this matter? Because the “walk” of faith and truth and love is the essence of being a Christian. The Christian walk is what discipleship is all about. Choosing to love with a steady, repeated determination. Choosing truth over lies with boring predictability. Praying because it’s the right thing to do. Making a habit of hope rather than despair every time the choice presents itself. Today. And then the same tomorrow. And the day after.
What does that look like in practice? Daily prayer and Bible reading. Greeting the panhandler on the corner. Asking the young server in the coffee shop how her studies are going. Apologizing to my spouse after I have failed to listen—again. Thanking the priest for the sermon, however good or bad it was. Not skipping my tithe. Remembering to pray for people when I’ve said I would. Giving thanks before a meal. Choosing not to repeat a bit of juicy gossip I’ve just heard.
Few people notice such things. None of these disciplines (for that is what they are) is earth-shaking or dramatic. But they are what the life of faith looks like on a daily basis. Discipleship is a matter of repeated choice. Just like breakfast. Or walking. And it gets us where God calls us to go.
John Bowen is Professor Emeritus of Evangelism at Wycliffe College in Toronto, where he was also the Director of the Institute of Evangelism. Before that, he worked a campus evangelist for Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship. For over thirty years, John has been a popular speaker, teacher, and preacher, on university campuses, in churches and in classrooms, and at conferences, across Canada and the USA. His most recent book is The Unfolding Gospel: How the Good News Makes Sense of Discipleship, Church, Mission, and Everything Else (Fortress 2021).
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