The Practice of Wonder

— Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! Romans 11:33 (ESV)

From the days of his youth, George Bailey knew exactly what he was going to do.

He was going to shake the dust off his feet, leave his podunk town, and see the wonders of the world. He was going to lasso the moon for his girl, pack up the new suitcase his old boss had given him, and head out into adventure.

One thing was certain—George Bailey was not going to waste his life cooped up in a shabby loan office in Bedford Falls.

But poor George always found his adventures interrupted.

A father’s stroke.

A brother’s marriage.

A financial crisis.

One by one, George’s dreams seemed to die, and one woeful day George decided he might as well die with them.

The hero of Frank Capra’s classic It’s a Wonderful Life stood on the bridge of despair. Overcome by disappointment and the wreckage of expectations, he prepared to hurl himself into the icy waters below, but an angel beat him to it.

Clarence, a novice angel, jumped in first, forcing George to help and forget his own suicidal plans.

Via a mysterious journey through a past that had no George Bailey, the angel helped George see how much his life mattered and how precious every life is.

George Bailey discovered that wonder had been near him all along. The wonder of life did not depend on the location of the man, but on the posture of the man’s heart.

The wonders of life need not be found only in distant places, glamorous experiences, or long-awaited achievements.

Wonder is everywhere when you develop eyes to see it.

The title of the film could hardly be improved:

It’s a Wonderful Life.

And that is what we were made for—not merely productive lives, successful lives, or even comfortable lives. We were made for a wonder-full life.

What Is Wonder?

Wonder is the unique delight of a soul that gazes into mystery and beauty and feels warmed by the marvel of something it has not fully seen or cannot fully explain.

It is a lot like curiosity, but it is more.

Curiosity is the mind wanting to know.

Wonder is the heart awakened by what it beholds.

Curiosity leans forward to investigate, while wonder bows to enjoy.

Wonder is a close cousin to awe – the marvel of the soul in the presence of the transcendent.

Wonder might shout or wonder might whisper.

Whether a child’s eyes fixed on a ladybug or a great grandmother’s eyes watering with delight to see the child who has found the ladybug, wonder has no particular prescription or form. Wonder truly is in the eyes of the beholder.

We perhaps could have considered wonder in my blog post about meditation. In one sense, wonder is a form of meditation. But it is a unique practice and worthy of unique attention.

Wonder is the soul surprised by loveliness and lingering over goodness.

Wonder in the Pages of Scripture

Paul spends eleven chapters in Romans unfolding the breathtaking plan of salvation. He explains how the Gentile world did not know God. How God formed a people through Israel. How from Israel came the Messiah. How all have sinned. How those who trust Christ are united with Christ. How we are grafted into the people of God. How nothing can separate us from the love of God.

And after climbing those heights of grace, Paul can no longer merely explain.

He must exclaim.

Romans 11:33–36 (ESV)

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! ‘For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?’ ‘Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid?’ For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”

The Word of God is filled with such moments—calls to wonder, songs of wonder, prayers of wonder.

Exodus 15:11 (ESV)

“Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?”

Psalm 8:3–4 (ESV)

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?”

Psalm 119:18 (ESV)

“Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law.”

Psalm 40:5 (ESV)

“You have multiplied, O Lord my God, your wondrous deeds and your thoughts toward us; none can compare with you! I will proclaim and tell of them, yet they are more than can be told.”

The invitation to wonder and awe pervades the Word of God because God Himself is wonder-full—He is a God of wonders. Everything about Him is awe-inspiring. Everything about Him is marvelous. So every page of the Word is, in some way, pointing to the marvel.

The Problem: Where Has All the Wonder Gone?

Pablo Picasso once said, “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

During a recent weekend of keeping our three-year-old granddaughter, Mia, I was reminded of how slow preschoolers are at everything.

Frustratingly,

Wonderfully,

Painfully,

Gloriously,

Slow.

An ordinary moment with a simple instruction like, “Mia, grab your shoes from the back deck so we can get ready to go,” could turn into a twelve-minute detour because she noticed a spider web and wanted to look at it, touch it, and ask, “Why is it here?”

I think this might be part of what Jesus had in mind when He urged us to become like little children.

Slow down and let the wonder come back.

Many Christmases ago, my brother did his routine peek into his daughter’s room to check on his sleeping three-year-old. But her bed was empty. A frantic search of the dark house ended with a memorable sight. Little Courtney was sprawled on her tummy in the living room. Her favorite thumb was in her mouth and her favorite blanket was between her fingers. She, like the whole house, was still.

In front of her glowed a newly decorated Christmas tree. Evidently, the tree’s warm lights and glistening tinsel had wooed her from bed and summoned her to wonder.

She was not there to analyze the tree. She was there to marvel at it. She could not have identified it as Fraser fir or Scotch pine. She would not have known its price tag. She probably could not have told you why it was there. But there it was, glowing in the night.

And there she was, eyes wide with wonder.

Somehow, wonder seems to leak away on the path to adulthood.

Little children wonder about everything—spider webs, ants, rainbows, puddles, bugs, shadows, wrapping paper, ceiling fans. But adults often live with a weary mantra of “been there, done that.”

Abraham Joshua Heschel said: “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement.”

But modern adults often live in radical distraction.

We have become people who snap a few selfies in front of the Grand Canyon, post them online, and move on without ever having our breath taken away by the majesty of the place.

It is not only busyness and screens that rob us of wonder. It is also a distinctly adult compulsion toward productivity.

If life is only about transactions—I do this and get this in return—then wonder seems wasteful.

Wonder has no obvious output. No spreadsheet value. No measurable ROI.

Wonder is the opposite of a transaction—it’s more like worship.

In wonder, we become like the psalmist who discovered that God is not merely a puzzle to be solved or a set of principles to be observed. He is an altogether lovely and majestic Person to be enjoyed.

Psalm 96:9 (NKJV)

“Oh, worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness! Tremble before Him, all the earth.”

When wonder dies, our love for life begins to die.

We become like depressed George Bailey—tired, joyless, bored, restless, angry, and vulnerable to every false comfort. When we lose wonder, we lose energy. But when we wonder again, it’s like life returns. The daily practice of wonder energizes the slumbering soul.

The Power – The Energy and Inspiration of Wonder

The experience of transcendence is inspiring.

The word inspire is built on roots that suggest breathing in spirit or breath. To be inspired is to feel fresh breath in the lungs of the soul. To be inspired is to breathe in grace.

When an artist is inspired, she paints.

When an inventor is inspired, he invents.

Wonder is the fuel for energy because it is a gateway to joy.

André Gide, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, once described seeing a moth emerge from its chrysalis during a classroom lecture. He was filled with awe and delight at the metamorphosis. Excitedly, he showed it to his professor, who replied with a tone of mockery: “What! Didn’t you know that a chrysalis is the envelope of a butterfly? Every butterfly you see has come out of a chrysalis. It’s perfectly natural.”

Disillusioned, Gide later wrote: “Yes, indeed, I knew my natural history as well, perhaps better than he… But because it was natural, could he not see that it was marvelous?”

I have had the privilege of standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon three times in my life.

Each time the reaction was the same: Jaw drops. Mouth gapes. Eyes widen. And something deep within says: “Wow.”

If you asked me how I felt while gazing at the transcendent natural wonder, I might simply say:

Joy.

A friend once told me about visiting the Grand Canyon with his family. After staring in silence for a while, his youngest son blurted out: “Dad, I’m so proud of God.”

Wonder in the everyday puts an end to the myth of someday—the lie that life will become interesting, beautiful, or fulfilling only when circumstances change.

Every Christmas, we watch “The Family Man” starring Nicolas Cage and Téa Leoni. It’s a George Bailey-like movie with a modern twist.

A wealthy businessman living a driven, affluent, but empty life is suddenly shown what life might have been if he had chosen love and family over ambition. At first, he wants his old life back. But then he begins to discover the hidden wonder of being a husband and a dad.

There is a beautiful scene where he looks at his wife (the wife he would have married if he hadn’t chosen a self-absorbed path to Wall Street) and he says to her softly, “You are so beautiful.”

She responds, “How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look at me like you haven’t woken up next to me every day for years.”

I think that’s what wonder does.

You behold familiar things with fresh eyes.

Wonder has power to awaken love.

Interestingly, science is now confirming the life-giving power of wonder and awe. Experiences of awe activate the vagus nerve and slow your heart rate. Wonder can orient your attention toward others, and prompt you to engage in the world more. Studies show that experiences of awe lower levels of stress. Most of our stress and anxiety is rooted in preoccupation with self—am I doing well enough, what if something bad happens to me, what are others thinking of me. But wonder takes us out of ourselves. When we are in awe, we feel small, but in a good way.

Studies have also shown that people experiencing wonder together relate better with others. In one study, after looking up at an awe-inspiring grove of tall eucalyptus trees, participants picked up more pens dropped by a stranger nearby.

Most of all, I think wonder keeps us from the worship of lesser things. “Even before a word is on my tongue, behold O Lord, you know it altogether… you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me….” (Psalm 139:4, 5, ESV) A.W. Tozer said, “The essence of idolatry is the entertainment of thoughts about God that are unworthy of Him.”

The Practice: Making Wonder a Daily Discipline

How can you put more wonder into your days?

1) Make space to contemplate what you cannot comprehend.

I like to think about how big things are. Our sun, an ordinary sized star is vast by comparison to the earth. You could put a million earths into the sun. But if you were to fill up the so called “Big Dog Star” (Canis Majoris), you’d need seven quadrillion earths.

I also like to wonder about how small things are. In chemistry terms, a mole isn’t a furry, grey, burrowing animal. It is a standard of measure – 6.0226 X 1023 . A mole of water is about 3.6 teaspoons. And, in that one mole of water, there are 6.0226 X 1023 molecules of water. That’s six hundred sextillion. Let’s say you had six hundred sextillion dollars and wanted to share it. You’d have enough to give every human on the planet a trillion dollars.

I discover wonder also in all that is beautiful. It doesn’t take extra time to see the beauty of a cloud against a blue sky or an azalea bush in the spring. But it does take intent – it takes focus.

Add these words to your vocabulary daily: “Wow!” “Amazing.” “Beautiful.”

And, like Paul, discover the word: “Oh!”

Romans 11:33 (ESV) — 33 Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!

Author and theologian Sam Storms has said the most important word in Romans 11:33-36 isn’t “riches” or “wisdom” or “knowledge” or “glory” or even “God.” It’s the first word in v. 33, “Oh!”

It's the single Greek letter, omega.

Just an interjection, an exclamation of wonder and joy—Oh!

Conclusion

After Clarence the angel saves George Bailey from drowning, he saves him from despairing by giving him new eyes for the wonder that’s always been there. What’s ingenious about the story is that no part of George’s story changes. George is still stuck in Bedford Falls, still in a crisis at the bank, still half deaf and the wooden knob on the stairway banister still falls off. But when his eyes are opened to the blessings hidden in the common place, his story gets completely reinterpreted.

That’s why his brother toasts the nearly bankrupt George in the movie’s closing scene as he lifts his glass to “My big brother George—the richest man in town.”

As you open your eyes to wonder, you swing open an enormous gateway of grace—a pathway that opens into an expanse of joy and gratitude. Let your soul join with Paul every day in a delighted exclamation: OH! And you, too, will be the richest person in town.

Endnotes

1. Attributed in Roland Penrose, Picasso: His Life and Work (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), 275.
2. Abraham Joshua Heschel, God in Search of Man (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1955), 46.
3. André Gide, If It Die…: An Autobiography, trans. Dorothy Bussy (New York: Random House, 1935), 48–49.
4. A.W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1961), 9.