Would He really go that far? I wondered, staring at the grocery store shelf.

Upon it sat a can of soup, cream of celery to be exact. It was perched at eye level, perfectly placed within my line of vision to stand out amongst its many neighbors. Once again I had forgotten to bring my trusty list to the grocery store and was bound to forget something.

This time, as I pushed my cart up and down the rows of groceries, I had prayed that God would help me remember everything on the list still pinned to my refrigerator. I was just about to leave the store when I saw the cream of celery, which reminded me that fresh celery was one of the most important items on my list. I was so pleased about the reminder that I didn’t mind retracing my steps to the produce section.

On the way there, I marveled at the idea that God might care enough about my measly concerns to give me a reminder of something I had forgotten. Something I would have been upset to learn was absent when I got home.

Everyone talks about how big God is: how His sovereign majesty fills both heaven and earth and comprises a power unmatched by any other in the universe. When announcing the miraculous nature of her immanent conception, the angel Gabriel said to Mary, “Nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37). That is why Jesus grew up to heal the sick, cast out demons, even still the tempestuous sea. Jesus was tapping into a power that knew no bounds, except for those He placed upon Himself when He surrendered to suffering and death. But even these proved to be mere gateways to His biggest demonstration of power yet—resurrection from death. Foreshadowed by His resuscitation of Lazarus, Jesus reappeared in a body that could defy the laws of physics (appearing and disappearing at will in various spaces) and would ascend into heaven with the promise of a speedy return to earth one day.

But what about how little God is? Little enough to fit inside an infant’s body two millennia ago and minute enough to respond to our off-the-cuff prayers today? I guess for me, the issue is not whether God is able to diminish Himself into shockingly small proportions for our sake but that He is willing to do so. What can you say about a deity who cares about the contents of the homemade soup you want to make for dinner? It seems too trivial, too beneath the Creator of the universe.

But, ah, what about the Redeemer of the universe? The One who will go to great lengths to reach His lost sheep scattered far and wide, subjected to all manner of dangers with no hope of saving themselves. What does He do about them?

After this encounter at the grocery store I can tell you one thing our heavenly Father does—He speaks. He speaks as He has always spoken—bringing light into dark places. No matter how insignificant such corners of human experience seem to be.

My childhood was not a happy one. I had a father who steadily descended into mental illness before I left home, exposing me to a form of Christianity that was completely toxic. I was made to feel like a sinful, despised daughter rather than a beloved child. And, over time, I projected this perception onto God. While I might profess a different truth—one that matched what the Bible had to say about divine love—in my heart I felt the weight of God’s gaze as unbearable. In short, I felt like He hated me as my earthly father had hated me. What else did I know of fathers?

My soup can experience stands in a long line of “God is in the details” occurrences that have bewildered and blessed me. Sometimes I think that they speak louder than a thunderclap or rousing sermon ever could. Like Elijah, I process God’s presence best when He approaches me in the form of a still, small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13). Maybe that is because He is able to slip into my consciousness and pull at my heartstrings without doing any damage. There is no way for me to calculate all the causes of God’s choice to speak to me so, but I can vouch for the effects. When God reminds me of something I have forgotten, something as little as a grocery item, I feel loved in a big way. Because I tend to keep forgetting how much He really does love me as I slip into old ways of doubting my worth before Him. Because the world can be cruel and dangerous, and my own wounds can be slow to heal, I desperately need His whispers every day, everywhere I go.

I suspect He is talking to me in low and loving intonations all the time. I’m just too distracted and noisy to hear Him. Even when I quiet myself before Him in prayer, it is all too often that I speak my worries and requests rather than sit in silence to hear.

I don’t know why it is, but when I pull out an empty journal page and poise my pen above it, I often grasp something I did not know moments before. Maybe because I am demonstrating my willingness and belief that He’s the One with the more important words to say in our conversation, even as I confess my humanity before Him.

What about you? Are you waiting for your loud clap of thunder from above or is your pen poised above the page? Did you dismiss something that caught your eye, or ear, because you deemed yourself unworthy of receiving a gesture of love from God? Did the journey back to your starting point seem too long to undertake in your exhausted and depleted state?

Friend, all I can do is encourage you with the words that an angel spoke to Zechariah the prophet: “Whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice, and shall see the plumb line in the hand of Zerubbabel” (Zech 4:10). For context: Zerubbabel was a leader among the exiles of Judah who had returned from Babylon to rebuild their temple. Although the beginnings of the construction seemed unimpressive at first, the edifice was completed and would one day be visited by none other than Jesus.

Give yourself a moment (or two) to breathe.  Have compassion on yourself, for we will never be equal to all the demands placed upon our shoulders. Something vital is bound to be forgotten, but your heavenly Father is right there to help you remember what it truly important. That you are always loved and are never forgotten. That you may avail yourself of His help no matter how remedial your efforts seem to be. They are a start. They are vital. And they are precious to God, who can see where they are going and what they are becoming.

One thing I should mention: should we actually catch sight of—and comprehend—the small gesture God is making, we then become responsible to do something about it. If you hear a guy ring your doorbell and see him holding a box of candy and bouquet of flowers, you should do something about that. (Same goes for you, for whom the girl put on some lip gloss and tamed her tousled hair.) At the very least, it would be rude not to answer the door. At worst, it would be a tragically missed opportunity to be lavished with another layer of love from someone who has chosen to humble themselves before you. Bent so low that you can scarcely imagine the galaxies he passed on his way down.

Did you know that in Biblical Hebrew, the word for “bless” also means “kneel?” For the God of Israel, the two are inseparable. It is not just we who are supposed to genuflect before our Maker and Messiah. He shows us how to do it first. And keeps on showing us for as long as we draw breath (and, I suspect, beyond).

Lord, let us not miss out on the little signs and profound wonders you are performing every day on our behalf. And when we do notice, help us to give you the right response—one of joyful receptivity, for it is Your joy that is always, unequivocally, our strength (Nehemiah 8:10).

Amen.

P.S. To those of you who prayed for me concerning my struggle with depression, thank you. I am feeling significantly better since writing my previous blog and know that it is an answer to your intercession. May I be so bold as to ask for a follow-up prayer? Please pray that my progress be protected and that I continue moving in the right direction. (Sometimes it is hard to trust that improvement in mental health won’t be taken away.) Thanks.