Life-Giving Words of Hope & Encouragement

There’s a line often attributed to Einstein that has followed me for years: There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is.

The older I get—and the more life I’ve lived—the more I realize how true that really is.

Life has a way of disciplining our wonder. Somewhere between childhood and responsibility, we learn to explain everything, categorize everything, and manage everything. We stop noticing and start surviving. We stop marveling and start measuring. We stop receiving and start controlling. And slowly, quietly, we begin living as though nothing is a miracle.

But Scripture invites us into a different way of seeing. Not a naïve way. Not a denial-of-pain way. But a redeemed, God-aware, eyes-open way. A way of living where everything—yes, everything—becomes a miracle when viewed through the presence and promises of God.

Two Ways to See the Same World

The world doesn’t change based on which way you choose to live. Bills still arrive. Diagnoses still come. Loss still hurts. Prayers sometimes feel unanswered. The difference isn’t the environment—it’s the lens.

When I live as though nothing is a miracle, life becomes heavy. Gratitude shrinks. Cynicism grows. I start expecting disappointment and bracing for impact. Even good things feel temporary, fragile, or suspicious. I can explain away blessings, downplay provision, and overlook grace because I’ve trained myself to believe that everything is random, earned, or owed.

But when I live as though everything is a miracle, the same world looks entirely different.

Breath becomes grace. Time becomes a gift. Forgiveness becomes wonder. Provision becomes testimony. Even hardship—while still painful—becomes purposeful. I stop asking, “Why is this happening to me?” and start asking, “Where is God meeting me in this?”

That shift doesn’t ignore reality. It interprets reality through faith.

The Miracle of Ordinary Days

One of the greatest deceptions we fall into is believing that miracles must be rare, loud, and spectacular. But Scripture consistently shows God working through the ordinary.

The manna fell daily. The pillar of cloud moved slowly. Jesus cooked breakfast. Resurrection came at dawn. God often hides the miraculous inside the mundane so only the attentive will notice.

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

That verse doesn’t say, “This is the day everything went right.” It says this day—this one, with its interruptions and imperfections—was made by God. That alone makes it a miracle.

When I rush through my days, I miss that. When I pause, I start seeing grace everywhere: conversations that came at the right time, strength I didn’t think I had, restraint when anger could have ruled, peace that didn’t match the circumstances. None of those are accidents. They are quiet miracles.

Faith Is Learning How to See

Jesus often said, “Whoever has eyes, let them see.” Not because people lacked vision—but because they lacked perception.

Faith doesn’t create miracles; it recognizes them.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1)

Faith trains us to see beneath the surface. To recognize that God is at work even when outcomes are unclear. To trust that what looks like delay may actually be preparation. To believe that God’s presence is not measured by comfort but by faithfulness.

Living as though everything is a miracle doesn’t mean I deny pain. It means I refuse to deny God’s nearness in pain.

When Life Tries to Convince You Otherwise

Let’s be honest—some seasons make it very hard to live this way.

Grief can cloud wonder. Trauma can numb gratitude. Long waits can erode expectation. There are moments when “everything is a miracle” feels almost offensive because life hurts too much.

But even then, Scripture doesn’t tell us to pretend. It invites us to remember.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)

Sometimes the miracle isn’t the removal of pain—it’s the presence of God within it. The miracle is that you’re still standing. Still believing. Still reaching. Still praying when silence would be easier.

I’ve learned that miracles don’t always look like breakthroughs. Sometimes they look like endurance. Sometimes they look like healing that comes in layers. Sometimes they look like peace that doesn’t make sense.

And sometimes the greatest miracle is that God hasn’t given up on us—even when we were ready to give up on ourselves.

Choosing Wonder Is a Daily Decision

Living as though everything is a miracle doesn’t happen automatically. It’s a daily, intentional choice.

It’s choosing gratitude over grumbling.
Trust over control.
Hope over cynicism.
Worship over worry.

It’s reminding my soul that God is not absent, indifferent, or late.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:22–23)

New every morning. That means yesterday’s faith doesn’t carry today. Today requires a fresh choice to see.

And when I choose wonder, something shifts inside me. Joy becomes sturdier. Peace becomes deeper. Faith becomes more resilient. I stop demanding signs and start recognizing them.

Living the Miraculous Life

Here’s what I know: how you see the world shapes how you live in it.

If nothing is a miracle, life becomes a burden to manage.
If everything is a miracle, life becomes a gift to steward.

I want to live wide-eyed. I want to notice God. I want to testify to His faithfulness—not just in the dramatic moments, but in the quiet ones. I want my life to say, “God was here,” even on the days that felt ordinary.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8)

That invitation is still open. Every day. Every breath. Every moment.

There really are only two ways to live. And today, again, I choose the one where everything is a miracle.

Prayer:

Father,
Thank You for opening my eyes to see You again. Forgive me for the days I rushed past Your goodness, explained away Your grace, or overlooked Your faithfulness. Teach me to live aware—aware of Your presence, Your provision, and Your quiet miracles woven into my everyday life. When life feels heavy, remind me that You are near. When hope feels thin, help me see what You are still doing. I choose today to live with wonder, gratitude, and faith. Let my life be a testimony that You are still at work—everywhere and always. Amen.