I often, really almost always, have a dangerously deficient view of God’s beauty. And it damages so much of my life. It hollows out my joy. I’ve been listening to a dramatic reading of Leviticus thanks to the Bible Gateway app, and hearing the holiness and seriousness and bigness of God in it convicted me today. I get moved by the majesty of the Christopher Nolan movie Interstellar or a new Needtobreathe song, but my eyes and heart glaze over when I think about the Creator of the universe, and even when I read about His interactions with the people He loves on this tiny, water-covered rock that’s spinning through His space.
If I trembled in my heart as much as I should when I thought of God, if I felt the appropriate amount of awe, how much better would I treat people, his image-bearers? How much more genuine would my prayers be? How much more stable and strong my hope?
And a God this powerful, this gracious, this good and clean and creative, deserves so much more excitement and interest from my soul. This God is both the impossibly complex Hero and the masterful Author of the epic story we’re in. He has unsearchable depths and a goodness that will mystify and satisfy His people for a hundred million tomorrows, at which point they’ll realize they’ve only reached the shore of who He is.
My life would be better if I were more genuinely (and more regularly) stunned by God’s beauty.
So here’s to an understated component of the truly good life: Well-placed awe.