I sometimes disagree with the sermons I hear. This happened recently, when I listened to a guest speaker who had the congregation on its feet. She excited them—motivated them—enlightened them. But I think—perhaps—confused them.

She began by asking everyone to take a deep breath, and then described the experience as a miracle. She further stated that every human life is a miracle, and that we are surrounded by miracles every day. I must respectfully submit that this is an error. We are not surrounded by miracles every day. Every human life is precious, but not a miracle, and statements such as this diminish the effect of events that are.

A miracle is an event that occurs completely outside the bounds of what we know as natural law. Humans may be a fine piece of work; noble in reason; infinite in faculty; even fearfully and wonderfully made; but they are certainly part of the natural world. Even the birth of a baby, amazing as it may be, is not miraculous. It is commonplace. Dogs and cats and rats do it.

You may view this as a minor point of distinction. I do not. I believe that we must all define words the same way, or they become meaningless. If you describe a miracle as simply a dramatic episode, or an occurrence that has a profound effect on one’s life, then you trivialize the miracles performed by Christ. If you convince your listeners that they are surrounded by miracles on a daily basis, then the miracle of the resurrection means no more than finding a good parking space for Sunday services.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I believe we should view the world with wonder. We should be continually grateful for the beauty and blessings with which God has filled our lives. But as Christians, I believe that we must guard against the vague, feel-good spiritualism that pervades our culture. We must keep our miracles unique and powerful if they are to inspire us to faith and salvation.

I imagine that the speaker I listened to that day would disagree with me. So will many others. But I can live with that if they can.