In my life, I find it’s altogether too easy for my sense of awe to get lost in the shuffle of the hustle–brutalized by the tyranny of schedules, meetings, and routines. Where is my wonderment in the midst of this holy, crazy thing called life? Where are my eyes?
I don’t presume to speak for you, but I tend to treat God like a heavenly vending machine. Or a prayer-o-matic, if you will: put in a prayer, get an answer out. It ought not to be this way. Yet it so often is.
Why is this? Again, for me, it’s usually because my life is too full–full of things, yes, and meetings, schedules, and routines. So full, that that holy sense of wonderment, of awe, I should be cultivating gets pushed aside in favor of the merely urgent (or interesting). I’m too busy for You, Lord–but could You please give me what I want?
If what I read in Scripture is an accurate depiction, then David had a much “crazier” life than me: anointed king, and yet had to duck and run, go on the lam. Once, he even feigned madness, allowing the saliva to run down his beard.
David had time for God
In the Psalms, David writes “I will lift my eyes unto the hills” “from whence comes my help.” From whence came his “help?” “From the Lord God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” The word, “will,” is a volitional term–meaning that David chose to take his eyes off of whatever they were on, and look unto the hills.
David chose holy awe. He chose to look above the tyranny, the cacophony, of all that sought to snare his attention, and center himself in God (except for that one time, when his eyes gazed upon the bathing Bathsheba).
Certainly, we can be “awestruck”–those moments happen, but what this tells me is that we can also choose awe. By casting our gaze above.
To the hills.
Above, and beyond, the “Bathshebas” in our lives.
To the Maker of the hills.
How do you choose awe in your life?