Terry published photos of the Utah mountains on the web. Even though I was just viewing them on my little computer screen, the grandeur was breath-taking and a holy hush came over me. "What a Creator You are!" was all I could murmur. I have stood in the nave of St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City where the weight of the imposing architecture can practically be felt. It is a building intentionally designed to provoke awe. And I have seen boisterous teenagers suddenly grow quiet there as they became aware that they are standing in 'holy' space. When a tiny baby is laid in my arms, my response is never to scream or yell with delight over new life. Instead a tender silence envelopes the child and me as I see yet another miracle of new creation.
Have you felt awe recently?
In our age of noise - both literal and in our souls - I fear that awe is growing extinct and, with its passing, we are losing the art of listening. We crank up the volume, increase the stimulation, go for bolder and brighter colors, buy ever bigger TV screens, shovel sound into our ears with omnipresent Ipods - and - lose the ability to hear the still, small voice of God. Or, because we are such activity freaks and noise junkies, on those moments when we do become aware of His Presence, instead of growing still before Him, we open our mouths to make noise! Incapable of wonder, we think, "somebody quick say something, sing something, do something!" Richard Foster, one of my favorite authors, a man whose understanding of Christianity has shaped my own in many ways, observes "Our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in "muchness" and "manyness," he will rest satisfied." - Celebration of Discipline
We need to 'hear' the admonition of God that came to a man who didn't know enough about awe to keep his mouth shut and his ears open! Here's the story. "After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.
Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah." While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!" When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. "Get up," he said. "Don’t be afraid." (Matthew 17:1-7, NIV)
Dear Peter, how I love him! I would have done the same dumb thing, and I fear that I actually do! The ancient prophet declares, "God is in his holy Temple! Quiet everyone—a holy silence. Listen!" (Habakkuk 2:20, The Message) Just so we're clear, His holy temple is not St. Patrick's or any other church building. We, Believer, are His holy Temple. And when we sense the Spirit moving in us - be it in corporate worship, standing on a mountain, or in the company of a suffering saint - an appropriate response is to grow still; to allow awe to overwhelm us, even as something that feels like terror sweeps over us.
My prayer is this, dear friend.
"LORD, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O LORD. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy." (Habakkuk 3:2, NIV)
Today, make some space in all the 'noise' of your life to listen. Invite the Spirit to fill you up with holy awe. Like Elijah, you will find that in the quietness, the small voice of God whispers a great big message of assurance to your soul.
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I am Thine, O Lord,
I have heard Thy voice,
and it told Thy love to me.
But I long to rise
in the arms of faith,
and be closer drawn to Thee.
Oh the pure delight
of single hour that before
Thy Throne I spend,
When I kneel in prayer,
and with Thee, My God,
I commune as friend with Friend.
Draw me nearer,
nearer, Blessed Lord,
to the cross where Thou hast died,
Dear me nearer,
nearer, Blessed Lord,
to Thy precious bleeding side.
Fanny Crosby- Public Domain
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