Musing on Miracles

{Disclaimer: I’m completely aware that this post is for my own need to sort through these ideas and that no one else may understand much less agree.}

I’ve been thinking for the past few days about miracles. Not about whether or not they exist- I have no doubt they do- but about how easy it is to witness or hear about a miracle and instead of simply being thankful and recounting it with praise and wonder and adoration, we often take the miracle and immediately put it to use as a new measurement for our own sense of entitlement.

For instance, we see healing where it was deemed impossible and although we’re happy for the healed, we also find comfort in the idea that “if they were healed, then if I get sick, I’ll be healed too.” (I’m speaking from personal experience here.)

The unimagined becomes the expected and we set ourselves up to be disappointed by anything less.

Is it a longing to experience something deemed miraculous? Is it the desire to see tangible proof of God’s presence? Is it the fear of being “ordinary”?

For me, I think it’s a combination of all three.


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