Wonder. To make something mundane into a feast of imagination.
One night on our summer vacation, I sat by myself on the deck overlooking the ocean, watching the waves roll in under an almost full moon. The waves appeared to ripple onto the shore in a burning phosphorous-like ribbon, exploding into a bright white firework as they hit the beach. It was fascinating to watch. It was a wonder.
I called for my nieces to come out and see the glowing water. They immediately became as mesmerized as I was, trying to guess what made the water come alive with light. A glowstick in the water, fish that glowed, magical waters?
“Wow, way cool.” The words of wonder.
Their sensible mom came and stated the obvious – that it was just the reflection of the moon on the moving water – but still the wonder of it lingered for a few moments longer, suspending the mundane into a feast of imagination.
The usual had become fascinating.
Why not wonder? Why not sit with mouth agape and wonder about all the possibilities?
Let the little kids come to me. If you don’t get it, like these little children get it, as they wonder about it, you never will. (a loose interpretation from Luke 18.16-17)
Jesus knew that once we lose the wonder of childhood that the unbelievable, the hard-to-believe, could become the impossible-to-believe. Jesus knew that for us to believe in what we could not see, we would need to be in wonder-mode. We would need to suspend the mundane, the seen, and imagine the vast wonders of a God who loved them.
The world can sometimes be so rational, so sensible, so concrete. Instead, let’s grow a habit of wonder. To throw the obvious to the back burner, even if just for a few minutes.
I think, I am imagining, that a faith that wonders beyond the seen, the easy-to-grasp, will be a faith that is strong and true. And it will be a faith that will be built on the vast wonder that is God.
We fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. ~2 Corinthians 4.18