Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist. One of the striking things about today’s celebration is that, although we celebrate the birth of St. John the Baptist, almost nothing dramatic happens apart from Zachariah being again able to speak. Otherwise, there are no miracles visible to the crowd. There is no theophany or voice from Heaven. The skies do not fold back to reveal the glory of God. Instead, there is simply the birth of a child.
To the neighbors and relatives gathered around Zechariah and Elizabeth, it was certainly an occasion for joy. They recognized God’s mercy in giving a son to an elderly couple who had long since given up hope of having children. But they could not possibly have known what God was preparing. They saw a child. God saw the prophet who would prepare the way for his Son.
Turn the page and … and nothing. Today’s Gospel ends with a sentence that covers nearly thirty years in just a few words: “The child grew and became strong in spirit, and was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel.” (Lk 1:80) Thirty years…summarized in one sentence. Why? Because those years were years of preparation. John’s public ministry would last only a short time. But before he ever preached a sermon or baptized a single person, God was quietly shaping him for the mission that lay ahead. The same quiet preparation is reflected in the first reading from Isaiah: ‘The LORD called me from birth, from my mother’s womb he gave me my name.” (Is 49:1)
Long before Isaiah spoke as a prophet, long before John preached in the wilderness, long before Jesus began his public ministry, God was already at work. That is often how God works. We usually notice God in the extraordinary moments—the answered prayer, the unexpected blessing, the turning point in our lives. But today’s feast reminds us that God is often doing his greatest work long before we recognize it.
He is preparing tomorrow while we are living today.
Most of our lives are not lived in dramatic moments. Most of life consists of ordinary days. Parents raising children. Students studying. People going to work. Someone caring for an aging spouse. A person faithfully coming to daily Mass. Someone quietly praying for a son or daughter who has wandered from the faith. Day after day, nothing seems remarkable. And yet God is at work.
Perhaps we underestimate what God can accomplish through ordinary faithfulness because we are too focused on immediate results. A teacher may never know how a word of encouragement changed a student’s life. A parent may not see the fruits of years of love and sacrifice until much later. We priests may never know how one homily, one confession, or one hospital visit strengthened someone’s faith. That is why today’s feast invites us to trust.
Trust that our prayers are not wasted. Trust that acts of kindness matter. Trust that the habits of faith we practice today are preparing us for what God will ask of us tomorrow.
John did not suddenly become the great prophet out there on the Jordan. God had been preparing him all along. The same is true for us. These ordinary days matter – all the routine, everyday mundane things matter if we trust and persevere in faith. There, beneath the surface, God is often accomplishing his greatest work. Maybe we see the fulfillment; maybe not.
One day, John would point to Jesus and say, “Behold, the Lamb of God. But before he could point others to Christ, God spent years preparing John’s own heart. Perhaps that is what God is doing in us right now. We may not yet know why he is asking us to be patient, or faithful, or persevering. We may not yet see what lies ahead. But we can trust that every day lived with faith becomes part of God’s larger plan.
We thank God for the extraordinary moments of our lives, but let us remember to thank Him for the ordinary ones, too. It is in the ordinary that God is preparing something extraordinary. He is preparing tomorrow…while we are faithfully living today.
Amen.
Image credit: Mosaic in the Baptistry of the Duomo in Florence, Italy. Photograph by Sailko – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41892066