Even Here: When God Turns Up in Unexpected Places

When I was in sixth form, a few of my mates and I went for a weekend away in Hunstanton, staying in one of their parents’ static caravans. One afternoon, we were sitting inside looking out across the beach, when something caught my eye.

Out in the distance, in the middle of the crowds and the buckets and spades, was a very familiar sight: the black and amber stripes of a Newport RFC rugby shirt — my team. For those unfamiliar, Newport’s not exactly a global brand like Man U or Liverpool. So to see someone wearing that shirt, of all places, on a Norfolk beach, was both odd and exciting.

Naturally, I lost all sense of calm. “Look — a Newport fan!” I shouted, and we all ran up the beach to track them down. But as we got closer, I realised why the shirt looked so familiar.

It was my dad.

Now, to this day, I’m not entirely convinced he didn’t come to check up on us. His official line was that he and my mum fancied seeing the seaside, and the timing was just coincidence. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But I hadn’t expected to see him there — that familiar face, in that ordinary, out-of-the-way place.

And it made me wonder: how many times has God shown up like that in my life — in the most unremarkable settings — and I’ve missed him? Or worse, assumed he couldn’t possibly be present there?

In Luke’s Gospel, there’s a story that captures something of this dynamic. Jesus shows up in a place no one expected: a Gentile region, near a herd of pigs, by a graveyard. If you were a first-century Jew, this would’ve ticked every “unclean” box going. A place no self-respecting rabbi should’ve been. Certainly not the Son of God.

And yet, that’s exactly where Jesus turns up.

More than that, it’s where he does something astonishing. He meets a man who’s tormented — screaming in the tombs, isolated, chained up. And Jesus heals him, restores him, brings peace where there had only been chaos.

No one asked him to come. No one invited him in. But he showed up, identified a need, and brought transformation.

We often assume we’ll meet God in the big moments — worship nights, festivals, spiritual highs. And of course, we do. But I’m increasingly convinced that we need him just as much, if not more, in the quieter, messier, more “ordinary” bits of life.

In the school run traffic. In the long supermarket queue. In the frustrating team meeting that feels like it’s going nowhere.

Even for those of us in ministry, the temptation is to compartmentalise. To imagine God shows up in the pulpit, in the vestry, in the sanctuary — but not in the hour we spend on admin. Or the awkward pastoral visit. Or the late-night email replying to yet another rota clash.

But the Gospel doesn’t box Jesus in like that. It shows us a Saviour who turns up in the tombs. In Gentile regions. Among pigs and panic.

And it challenges us to ask: will we recognise him there?

In Luke 8, there are two responses to Jesus’ arrival.

The townspeople see what he’s done, and they’re afraid. They ask him to leave. The healed man, on the other hand, wants to follow him — to go wherever he goes.

That’s still the choice before us today.

Will we ask Jesus to stay within our comfortable religious spaces — to keep him “where he belongs”?Or will we welcome him into the unremarkable, inconvenient, unspectacular corners of our lives?

Sometimes faith is lived out not in great leaps, but in small, grace-filled choices.

Letting the person in ahead of you in traffic. Stopping to buy a magazine from the Big Issue seller even though you’re running late. Pausing, breathing, and responding gently instead of snapping in frustration.

They’re not flashy. But they’re real. And often, they’re holy.

Because if Jesus can turn up in a graveyard on the far side of Galilee, I think it’s safe to say: He can turn up in your kitchen. In your commute. In your calendar.

The question is: will you notice?

Will you say, “Even here, Lord”?