A Sense of Awe
/Scripture
Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I’ve ever done.’So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers. They said to the woman, ‘We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Saviour of the world.’ (John 4:39-42 NIVUK)
A Sense of Awe
Reading Marilynne Robinson’s recent book, Reading Genesis, I was captured by her response to the first words of Genesis, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth”. She writes; When I think there was a day when a human hand first wrote those words, I am filled with awe. This sentence is a masterpiece of compression. It approximates as closely as words allow the instantaneous realization of an intent, the bringing into being of the diversity of things that make up the world of fundamental human experience. (Reading Genesis, Marilynne Robinson, McClelland & Stewart)
When we read the stories of God’s working with us in the life of Jesus can we have the same sense of awe and wonder? From the beginning creation was good; we are made good, though estranged from the love of God, one another and creation.
Can we sense the first time Jesus touched a blind man, cured a troubled woman of guilt, hugged a child and blessed her? Can we experience wonder that even though the hero of the story dies an ignominious death his disciples were transformed from fear to faith and planted the seeds of his forgiveness and reconciliation that still positively infects our society?
What wondrous love that speak to us as friends of God restored to friendship with the Creator of the universe to live lives of hope, mercy, truth and justice.
A Prayer Of Wonder
Late have I loved you, 0 beauty ever ancient, ever new! Late have I loved you and behold, you were within, and I without, and without I sought you. And deformed, I ran after those forms of beauty you have made. You were with me, and I was not with you, those things held me back from you, things whose only being was to be in you. You called, you cried, and you broke through my deafness. You illumined, you shone, and you chased away my blindness. You became fragrant and I inhaled and sighed for you. I tasted, and now hunger and thirst for you. You touched me and I burned for your embrace. (A Prayer from St. Augustine)