When you look over the course of your life, most of it probably isn’t measured in peaks and valleys, in times of joy and of deep suffering. If yours is like mine, most of it is pretty mundane. Indeed, the term “mundane” connotes a sense of realism or earthiness, a reflection of the majority of life. You get up, take a shower, brush your teeth, go to work, do your day, and come home. Your wife or husband asks you how your day was, and you respond, “Fine.” By “fine,” you mean, “It was a day”–not particularly outstanding in any way; it was just a typical, basic day.
There’s nothing wrong with you, or this situation. It’s exactly as it should be. As Solomon observed in Ecclesiastes 1: “All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, “Look! This is something new”? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time. There is nothing new under the sun.”
Real life as it’s meant to be lived isn’t “Mission: Impossible,” where we’re intended to jump out of airplanes or scuba every day; frankly, that much adrenaline surge would kill you over time. We were created to do most days as regular days.
And, yet, we were also created to practice the presence of God. By practicing God’s presence, I don’t mean that God isn’t always present with us, but rather that we practice being aware of His presence. In John 15, Jesus calls this “abiding,” or “making our home” in Him. Nothing is more effective and important in practicing God’s presence than cultivating a sense of awe.
At the time I’m writing this blog, we’re in the middle of the Jewish Days of Awe, the 10-day period between the holy days of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. This is a time of intense repentance and reflection for observant Jews. Throughout Scripture, both the Old Testament and the New, the Lord encourages us to experience awe. When the Scriptures talk about “the fear of the Lord,” it doesn’t necessarily mean terror, but rather awe. Both the Psalms and Proverbs tell us that the fear or awe of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge and wisdom. (Ps. 111; Prov. 1). When the apostles saw the works of Jesus and the Holy Spirit in the early church, they were filled with awe (Luke 5; Acts 2).
Awe is a complex emotion; it isn’t just fear, or love, or amazement, or perplexment, but kind of a combination of all of these. It’s a feeling of veneration, of transcendence, when the Lord pulls back this earthly, broken veil, allowing us to see creation all around us with the pure beauty and power that God originally intended.
Even those who don’t know the Lord experience awe. Clinical psychologist David Elkins says “awe is a lightning bolt that marks in memory those moments when the doors of perception are cleansed and we see with startling clarity what is truly important in life.” A recent article in The Atlantic notes research indicating that a sense of awe calms our nervous system, reducing anxiety and stress, gives us a greater sense of purpose and meaning, encourages appreciation for beauty and creativity; and improves our mood and sense of well-being, and weakens the grip of materialism.
Awe is our proper and appropriate response to God’s goodness and greatness. Awe’s beauty lies in its ability to instill in us a respect and appreciation for God’s mysteries. It reminds us that He is still far, far greater than we.
There’s a famous story of Theodore Roosevelt and his friend, the naturalist William Beebe, looking up at the night sky at Sagamore Hill in New York. Roosevelt pointed out the Andromeda Galaxy for his friend and recited its dimensions—approximately 220,000 light-years, which is roughly twice the size of our Milky Way galaxy, containing about 1 trillion stars. Afterward, Roosevelt turned to Beebe and said, “Now I think we’re small enough! Let’s go to bed.”
Awe removes us from the exalted throne of our lives that we have usurped, which rightfully belongs to the Lord, and reinstalls us in our proper place, restoring peace to our lives. It is impossible to have faith without awe.
But, we don’t always experience awe. Because awe inspires us to turn to the Lord, the devil’s tricks are to distract us from awe. He distracts us with darkness, violence, sadness, cruelty, and anger. He does it with monotony and boredom, and all the minor frivolities we engage with to alleviate the ennui.
Like gratitude, awe can be cultivated, and like gratitude, cultivating awe can raise us from the devil’s grip on us into a state of holiness, presence with God, and the joy that comes with it. One of the best ways to cultivate awe is to spend time in nature. The more often we seek it out, the more easily we discover it.
I love to sit at our boathouse at Lake Tyler. In fact, wherever I am in the world, whenever I picture in my mind’s eye just sitting in the presence of Jesus, we’re always in that spot. Last weekend, I sat there on a fall morning, watching the way the mist hovered over the water, like Genesis 1 says the Spirit hovered over the waters at creation. I watched the trees all around me, and I noticed that every leaf on every tree—and there were hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of them—was each a slightly different shade of green. It struck me that God is a Lord of infinite variety. I heard the sound the ducks made as they lighted on the water, as majestic as any music in creation. I could have sat there forever, reveling in the mystery and majesty of God’s goodness.
Psychologist Dacher Keltner’s research found that awe, unlike, say, eating Blue Bell, doesn’t lead to diminishing returns, getting old after a while. Awe-inducing experiences stay powerful every time. Every time I sit at the lake, I stare in wonder.
Listening to music is another, powerful way to cultivate awe. I enjoy George Strait, Morgan Wallen, and Fleetwood Mac as much as anyone, but experiencing beautiful worship or classical music at an optimal pitch and volume transports me into the presence of the Lord. I fully believe that music is the language of Heaven—why else are so many of God’s direct words throughout the prophets and in Revelation in verse? Not only music, but beautiful works of art, the best literature, and poetry can also instill awe—those works truly inspired by the Spirit of God.
But nothing cultivates awe like stepping into the fullness of life with another human being, the height of God’s creation. Walking in another’s grief and joy requires courage. It’s really tempting to step back, to avoid the pain of getting too close to someone else’s suffering, to look away, to drive by, and to change the channel. Last weekend, I had the opportunity to perform the wedding of two of our Grace alumni on a Friday night, celebrating new life. On Saturday morning, I grieved with our Grace family as we said goodbye to one of our former students and loved his family through it. The following day, I delivered a sermon to God’s followers, emphasizing the importance of holding fast to the gospel and never straying from it.
These experiences, doing abundant life in its terrifying and tragic beauty and hope with the sons and daughters of the living God, filled me with awe—this one weekend was a miracle of life and death, of resurrection with people who I love deeply and who graciously invited me into the most intimate moments of their lives.
We can have these moments more often if we learn to see God’s face in everything around us. Seeing His face, enraptured by awe, changes us forever.
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