Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Well of Wonder

The Well of Wonder  

   A crackling campfire with flames reaching for the stars stirs up thoughts of a God who led the Israelites by fire at night. I am reminded that the fire would have provided benefits similar to a physical fire--light to see, warmth, and protection from wild animals.

   Photographing myriad clouds on a beautiful summer day makes me wonder what the "cloud by day" in Exodus 13:21 looked like. A large, strong hand guiding perhaps? Or maybe the cloud resembled a cross, a foreshadowing of the deliverance to come.

   This pondering of the intricacies of creation causes my heart to overflow with thanksgiving. My lips seek words to describe such a God, but my mouth often remains silent as the cry of my heart takes over, expressing what I cannot.

   Wonder leads to worship. How can it not? Beauty fills our lives even in the vortex of pain and suffering. A child in a casket; a child in the arms of Christ. A dying mother; memories that never fade.

   The faithfulness of our God cannot be denied. He is always faithful, always good. When heartache hits like a hurricane, these truths enable us to worship God in spite of the howling wind and lashing rain.

   Wonder keeps us looking up, away from ourselves, away from the entrapments of the world to the God that created our very hearts--hearts that long for and thirst for His glorious presence.

   Wonder lost

   As dreams and adventure give way to careers and busyness, wonder is the casualty. We are injured but don't know how or why. We struggle to praise on those days when we haven't all but won the lottery.

   Whether we realize it or not, we miss our sense of wonder. More than we know. Like the lazy days of summer gone by, we long for one more lap around the pool, one more fresh flower bouquet to grace our table at mealtime.

   Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. We would all stay up to gaze in wonderment of course. But the fact that the stars do come out every night doesn't make them any less spectacular. Instead of gazing at the stars in apt wonder, we watch television.

   "Become like a little child," says Jesus (Matthew 18:3). In the eyes of a child, beauty is rampant, mystery is just around the corner, and wonder is a never-ending playground. For a child, a caterpillar on a leaf, a puddle in the driveway, or the moon in the night sky evokes a sense of wonder that for many of us has long since passed. Though we aspire to worship with abandon, we wonder why we can't.

   When the wonder is gone, the backyard that hold a day's worth of adventure for a child is nothing more than a lawn to be mowed for us. The tragedy of lost wonder is worship that diminishes like the evening sun. And it's a slow fade, one we seldom notice until the warmth of the day leaves us chilled and in the dark.

   We become so focused on the problems of life that seem to have no end and consequently miss out on the nearness of God in the moment. When we seek the Why we often miss the Who. God weaves eternal truths and glimpses of His glory throughout our days, but too often we pass by them unaware and overlook the razzle-dazzle of our days.

   The well of wonder never runs dry though. G. K. Chesterton wrote, "The world will never starve for want of wonders, but for want of wonder." Do you want to wonder? Do you want to worship? The two are indubitably linked, you know. Do we seek to understand the world we live in as a means to draw closer to God? When we do, worship won't be far behind.

   Wonder lust

   Wonder is not just an attribute, like calling a lilac purple, but an undergirding attitude, a compass pointing toward God. Wonder, rightly understood, always directs us to the God of all creation. The Artist of the majestic dawn is also Author of the lightening in the vast open sky. The God who creates such splendor wants us to celebrate it at every turn. 

   Beauty is all around us. Sometimes it's impossible to ignore, but more often beauty requires intentionality that only a sense of wonder can unearth. Beyond mere aesthetics, beauty directs us to the God whose abiding presence and character pours forth from every rock, every tree, every ant. All of creation is an invitation to worship the God of the universe.

   Creation does not serve its purpose if we admire the flickering night sky only to return to our darkened homes and lives. By dipping into the well of wonder, we can live our daily lives with a delicate balance of trembling awe and childlike amazement, leading us into an eternity of worship. Draw from the well of wonder and drink in the God that is beyond description.

  

    

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Walking Barefoot

    I spent little time in shoes as a kid. I would walk, and even run, nearly everywhere barefoot. Stones lined the driveway to my dad's garage and the area surrounding it, but the stones didn't bother my naked feet or even slow me down.
   I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing today.
   Now walking barefoot outside the cushioning of my carpeted home is "hard," "uncomfortable," and frankly, it "hurts." These are all words I think of when I consider the lack of humble service today.
   Yes, serving can sometimes be hard, uncomfortable, and may even hurt. But it's also rewarding, exciting, and commmanded by God.
   Walking barefoot also tends to be "messy." With four kids of my own, I now know why my mother got so frustrated when I came running into the house after a full day of going barefoot outdoors!
   Serving too can be "messy." Dealing with people very unlike ourselves creates situations that aren't always ideal. We may be ridiculed, rejected, or have to deal with myriad misunderstandings.
   People are scattered along the ditch of life, yet we walk right by. Too often we view service as an event or program we sign up for, an occasional add-on, time permitting. Viewed rightly service is a way of life, an act of love, in gratitude, for the love we have been given.
   Service is hard-wired into our DNA, yet how often we fight it. We forget what Jesus lived: "Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Matthew 20:28).
   Jesus doesn't expect anything from us that He wasn't willing to do Himself. Even with the sandals the disciples wore, they might as well have been barefoot. Endless walking on dusty roads makes for one messy act of servanthood. Dry, dusty feet plus a little water equals mud. The act of service got messier before it made an impact.
   When we serve like Jesus, lives will be changed, not the least of which will be our own. Is this perhaps what we're afraid of?
   I recently encountered an anonymous quote that ironically could probably be attributed to every one of us. The quote is this: "Sometimes I would like to ask God why He allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it. But, I'm afraid He would ask me the same question."
   It leads me to wonder, why do I live the way I live? Why do I do the things I do? Why do I not do what I do not do?
   I think it all comes back to my reluctance to walk spiritually barefoot; I don't want to be hurt or uncomfortable--it's just too hard. In a broken world in need of hope, it's disheartening to consider the details that often take priority in my life.
   Increasingly, however, I am realizing that beauty is not found in the vastness of the service but in the position it takes in my life. Big or small, God is in every act of humble service performed from a heart that beats for His.