The great mission

Was hanging out the washing in the garden, thinking that the past week had been a bit mundane, when a movement in the tree in the next garden caught my eye and I saw a green parakeet preening itself. Lime green, a matt, powdery colour, like lichen.
I know there are colonies of parakeets living in London; had seen them once before in the local park, from a distance, but never as close as this.
Why does it give such a sense of privilege, when some rare creature chooses to grace your own ordinary territory?
It flew slowly overhead so I had a good view of its exotic colouring, and disappeared behind the dome of next-door-the-other-side’s conservatory.
Then yesterday, looking out on another garden, I saw a dramatically handsome black and white striped bird hammering away at the nuts in the bird feeder, with a determination that would have given any normal bird a headache. Surely a woodpecker? Rushed for the bird book and found it was not any old woodpecker (rarely enough seen anyway) but a Great Spotted!
Again, there was this sense of something exotic suddenly breaking into the routine that is most days' reality.
For years, as a Christian, I wondered when the Great Mission was going to begin. I’d been taught that we’re all here on a mission, sent by God, and that nothing is accidental or without some purpose and meaning. But during years of normal days with small opportunities to do something kind or help out in some minor way, I thought surely the training period must be nearing completion? When was the real stuff going to begin?
It took me some time to realize that this is The Mission, actually. Even people in recognizable mission projects can only live day by day, doing the best they can with the circumstances, opportunities and obstacles they’re given.
Sure, there are certain things we can do to make things happen, involving getting out of the comfort zone and doing something different (and usually frightening). And we can also waste time and energy rushing out on self-styled missions that we're not really suited to and that God doesn't want.
But a lot of the real work of serving God is the one-foot-in-front-of-the-other stuff of every day - encouraging people who lose heart, persevering with people who are bitter and turn everyone away, improving our various skills, building relationships … doing the washing ….
None of it seems to change the world, which goes on turning much as before. Sometimes it all seems a bit pointless.
Then, just as you think that God isn’t in it – he must be off with those real missionaries founding groundbreaking projects in inner cities or in war-torn regions of the world – a flash of grace illuminates the dry routine and shows he chooses to be present with you too, just where you happen to be.
Artists attempting to depict the Holy Spirit of God appearing to ordinary mortals in a tangible form have often chosen the images of flames of fire, or a white dove. You can see why – the lightness, life, freedom and grace.
But maybe he also comes into the grey days of life with a flash of wings as a green parakeet, or the bold demeanour of a woodpecker, or as sun suddenly breaking through cloud, or ….. you tell me.