The War for Our Wonder: Choosing the Awe of God

The War for Our Wonder

We were made for awe.

Every human heart carries a God-given capacity to be amazed. It is not optional or occasional. It is hardwired into us. From the earliest years we hunt for things that leave us speechless — a snowstorm, a piece of music, a skyline, a technological leap. The problem is not that we seek awe. The problem is what we settle for.

When we look at the power, beauty, and sovereignty of God, that capacity finds its true home. Awe of Him can take the form of holy fear or of deep, grateful love. Either way, it draws us closer and settles something restless inside us. But because this capacity sits at the center of who we are, a quiet war is always being fought over what will finally capture it.

I felt this tension clearly a few months ago while standing on a quiet hillside at sunset. The light was extraordinary — soft gold spilling across the ridges, the sky slowly turning. For a moment I simply stopped. Then, almost without thinking, I reached for my phone to capture it. The impulse was small, but it revealed something larger: even beauty can become something I try to possess rather than something that leads me to worship. That brief moment reminded me how easily my awe drifts from the Giver to the gift.

The Drift Toward Human-Made Wonders

The more we surround ourselves with what human hands have built — cities that never sleep, screens that never stop, achievements that promise identity — the easier it becomes to transfer our wonder from the Maker to the made. Success, wealth, recognition, and the next technological advance begin to feel like the real sources of meaning. We end up chasing things that were never designed to satisfy the very hunger they awaken. The result is a low-grade, persistent dissatisfaction. Nothing in the physical world can permanently fill a heart that was made for God.

An Ancient Counterfeit

Scripture shows us how old this war is. In the garden the Serpent did not attack with force. He offered a counterfeit wonder: the possibility of becoming like God, of claiming for ourselves the position that belongs only to the Creator (Genesis 3:1–5). That same impulse still lives in us — the desire to be our own center, our own source of security and glory. The enemy understands our hardwired need for awe and is happy to supply substitutes that look impressive but lead only to emptiness and separation.

Two Kinds of Awe

There is a difference between the two kinds of awe.

The awe of God is relational. He comes to us as Father as well as Sovereign. It brings rest, identity, and a contentment that does not depend on circumstances. Every created wonder becomes a signpost pointing upward.

The awe the world and the enemy offer is transactional. It feeds on greed, fear, or the promise of independence. It keeps us restless because created things were never meant to be the end of our search. It turns our gaze inward until we become the center of our own story.

Returning to the Real Thing

God sometimes removes the noise so that our focus can return. He led Moses into the wilderness, away from the wealth and power of Egypt, until the only voice left was His (Exodus 3). We do not need to flee into literal isolation. When we belong to Christ we are already temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). Communion is possible right here, in the middle of ordinary life. The call is not to reject every good gift, but to receive them as gifts — never as gods.

This kind of relationship is not automatic. It grows through daily, deliberate attention: opening the Word and letting it speak, inviting the Spirit into the small decisions of the day, returning again and again when our attention drifts. It is not a cup we fill once. It is a walk we keep walking. Over time the heart learns to recognize the difference between true wonder and its glittering substitutes.

My prayer is simple. May we keep turning from the empty offerings that surround us and fall, again and again, into the only awe that can actually hold us — the awe of the living God.

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