If the Church calendar were a wardrobe, Ordinary Time would be the sensible green cardigan hanging quietly at the back of the closet. It doesn’t sparkle. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t even get its own special playlist. And yet, it turns out to be the thing we wear most often.
Green is the colour of Ordinary Time, which already tells us something important: God seems remarkably fond of growth that happens slowly, politely, and without anyone stopping to take notes. Green is not the colour of epiphanies or revelations or divine fireworks. Green is the colour of things that just keep going when no one is watching.
This is good news, because most of life is green.
Ordinary Time is when there are no angels interrupting our sleep, no stars rearranging the sky, no voices booming from clouds. Instead, there are grocery lists, parish emails, dog walks, laundry that somehow reproduces overnight, and prayers that sound suspiciously like, “Well, here we are again, Lord.”
And God says, “Exactly.”
If we’re honest, we tend to assume God does God’s best work during purple seasons of penitence or white seasons of glory. But green suggests something else entirely. Green says God is deeply invested in repetition, in showing up, in faithfulness that looks boring from the outside and heroic only in retrospect.
It’s not flashy to water the same plant every day. It’s not thrilling to keep loving the same people, praying the same prayers, or doing the next small right thing when nothing much seems to be happening. But green reminds us that roots are forming underground long before anyone sees leaves.
Spiritual growth is like that. You don’t notice it on Tuesday afternoon. You don’t feel especially holy while unloading the dishwasher. You don’t suddenly glow during Morning Prayer because you remembered all the responses without peeking. And yet, one day you realize you’re a little more patient than you used to be. A little less afraid. A little quicker to forgive. A little slower to assume the worst.
And you think, “Huh. When did that happen?”
Green happened.
Ordinary Time is God’s long game. It’s where the Spirit quietly practices resurrection by means of habits, communities, and grace that arrives in work boots rather than wings. It’s where holiness looks suspiciously like consistency. It’s where love keeps its promises even when no one claps.
Which may be why green might just be God’s favourite colour. Not because it’s dramatic—but because it works.
So if your faith feels unremarkable right now, if your prayers feel plain, if nothing special seems to be happening — take heart. You may be standing in the middle of a field God is very carefully growing.
And one day, quite suddenly, you’ll notice.
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A Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
you meet us not only in holy moments,
but in holy habits.
Teach us to trust the slow work of your Spirit,
the growth we cannot measure,
the faithfulness that feels ordinary until it bears fruit.
When we are tempted to rush,
remind us that you delight in patience.
When we doubt that anything is happening,
root us more deeply in your love.
Bless our green days, O God —
the days of steady walking, quiet praying,
and showing up again.
May we grow in ways we do not notice
until we suddenly do.
Amen.