Even in Ordinary Time

Did you know that about 33-34 weeks of the year are Ordinary Time? As a self-proclaimed Advent enthusiast (and where I’d like to spend most of my time, spiritually), it shocked me that about 65% of the liturgical calendar is just…well, ordinary. 

The Church is shaped by ancient liturgical rhythms and practices – during Lent and Advent, there is a narrowing that happens, we intentionally move through the world with restraint, orienting ourselves towards a specific moment in time: Christ’s birth and His death. During Ordinary Time, it’s less about taking up extra practices and more about recognizing that Jesus is present – He is here – and we are learning to live daily life with Him. 

Ordinary Time is about integration. 

I’m realizing though – as someone who has lived a lot of life in the intense seasons – it’s natural to make everything high meaning, high emotion, high stakes. If you’re anything like me, you begin to believe that significance equals intensity. 

Why We Live So Much Ordinary Time

Jesus walked the earth for about 33 years, but His public mission lasted about three before His death. So much of Jesus’ life was marked by the ordinary, even the years where He was actively on mission. Sure, we hear about the big moments like the Sermon on the Mount, Making Fishers of Men, Raising Lazarus From the Dead, and even Getting Peter Out of That Boat – but, what about all the moments in between? 

They walked on foot everywhere they went, from town to town, staying in homes of kind strangers or – in my imagination – a lot of gathering under the stars with just a small fire and perhaps a sea nearby for companions. 

What mirth there must have been, just Jesus and His closest twelve, laughing and fully alive as the fire crackled at their feet. Their bodies were no doubt very dirty, their clothes unwashed, their beds uncomfortable – but they had each other and they had a message of Love to share. 

This Ordinary Time of Jesus' life was salvific and purposeful, even when not dramatic.

It wasn’t defined solely by big events, but by the unfolding of the Kingdom through daily presence, teaching, and encounter. He showed us that faith – our relationship with God – is meant to be lived in continuity, not just in peaks. 

Every season has its profound space and plays a distinct theological role – whether Advent and preparation, Lent and purification, Christmas and The Incarnation, Easter and The Resurrection, or Ordinary Time and integration. The Church echoes the teachings of Jesus in the liturgical calendar itself – there is meaning and purpose to each one – all ordered toward the Paschal Mystery. 

Intensity with Integrity

If I’m honest, I’ve spent a lot of my life equating what is consuming to what is meaningful. 

I’ve spent seasons where everything felt significant because everything felt intense – emotionally, relationally, spiritually, even professionally. And I didn’t always know how to separate the two.

On top of that, when life feels severe, it’s difficult to ignore and demands attention. Pain, disruption, or emotional weight are naturally consuming. 

And listen, this blog post is not about categorizing seasons as either good or bad – I’m not here to say that the far extremes of life are any more significant than the predictable middle. Actually, I think what matters more – regardless of the season – is the posture.

Having integrity with our emotions, the inner landscape of our minds, our words, and subsequently our actions makes them actually meaningful, rather than just tugging at our attention. 

So from one intense person to (maybe) another? Call it profundity, call it severity, call it extreme, call it whatever you want – but be honorable with it. Living with fervor is virtuous (ask David, ask Paul, ask Jesus). 

The Return

So. We find ourselves in Ordinary Time. And the difference is, in intense seasons, life tells us what to pay attention to. In Ordinary Time, we have to choose exactly how we are present (and how we prioritize this presence). 

There will be Advents, Lents, Good Fridays, mountaintops, valleys, upheavals, celebrations.

But most of it?

Tuesday.

Laundry.

Work.

Dinner.

Prayer.

Relationships.

Making things.

Making people (!!!). 

Being alive.

The truth is, anything can be an altar – and anything is worthy of it. 

All throughout the bible, they’re propping up ladders and rocks and ebenezers after God has done something miraculous in their lives or fulfilled a promise – big or small. 

Memorializing these moments is a way of refusing to let these encounters disappear. It’s also an opportunity to draw a line in the sand and move forward.

We don’t have to mentally cross and re-cross the Jordan river over and over again to maintain its significance and in the same way we don’t have to reel over what has happened in the past. We can look on at how God was faithful to us, stack some stones by the river bed and walk away. 

With the fourteen(ish) weeks of Ordinary Time left this year, where are you building your altars? How are you integrating the previous intense seasons of your life? 

Life is mostly ordinary. And if that isn’t a sigh of relief, I don’t know what is.