On Wonder

I’ve been thinking and reading a lot lately about Wonder. What is it? Is it important? Why is it so easy to lose? Can we cultivate it when it’s gone?

Losing Wonder

Recently I had the privilege of visiting Glacier Bay National park aboard the cruise ship Queen Elizabeth. The entire experience was awe-inspiring for me and I spent the whole day grinning like a toddler at a circus. I was truly wonder-struck. Later that evening I jokingly asked a fellow passenger, “See anything interesting today?” and he responded with a very serious, “Not really.” He then went on to describe how he hadn’t seen the bears or the whales he’d hoped to see and that the Margerie and Johns Hopkins glaciers are much smaller than the Hubbard glacier he’d seen before. He was “disappointed in the whole thing.”

He had lost his Wonder.

I noticed throughout the voyage that many around me seemed unimpressed by so many things that caused me to marvel- the food, the entertainment, the sweeping vistas, the luxury surrounding me every moment. The old saying goes that “familiarity breeds contempt,” and maybe that’s part of it. Many of these were older people who were much more traveled and had much more cruise-ship experience than I did. To them the food was too salty, or the show was too long, or the ice flow was too small. For a dumb old East Texas country boy like me, every moment was magic.

It seems that our society equates Wonder with childishness and jaded numbness with maturity. We seem to think that in order to think critically we must voice criticism, to show sophistication we must be cynical.

It’s cool to be unimpressed.

Borrowing Wonder

In the fall of 2013 I took the family to Disney World as a sort of apology for turning their world upside-down with a move from Texas to Georgia. We spent 4 days in the parks, one day at a marina, and one day at the beach for a full week of family adventure. To my then 10, 8 and 4 year-old daughters, everything was magical- the rides, the characters, the castles. Each moment was filled with as much wonder as their little bodies could hold. For me it was hot, exhausting, painful, and expensive. To them every moment was magical. To me, it was hardship.

At the end of one of the very long days we made our way to an amphitheater to watch the final show of the evening- Mickey’s Blah Blah Yada Something-Or-Other. All I cared about was that I could sit down for an hour or so and rest while whatever cheesy show went on. We got there early in an effort to get good seats and the kids were quite bored and wiggly by the time the show began. I had Amelia in my lap, in an attempt to keep her from running amok, when the lights went down and the show started. I honestly don’t know what happened during that show- there were boats of some sort and it ended with fireworks, but I wasn’t watching the show…. I was watching Amelia’s face. She was enraptured, consumed, vibrating with Wonder.

While I don’t remember the the specifics of the show, I’ll never forget that night. It was when I learned I could borrow wonder. I felt her amazement, her awe. She talked about that show for weeks after, and I think it may have been the basis for her current love of theatrical productions. I’m not going to go so far as to say the moment changed my life, but I have made an effort since that day to be more ready to borrow Wonder from whomever seems to have an abundance of it in the moment.

The God of Wonders

Throughout the bible God and his works are met with Wonder, and even fear- it seems our natural response to His work, His providence, His presence. The hosts of heaven sing of His glory. Angels admonish us to “fear not” and remind us that “blessed are you.” Warriors tremble, kings bow, shepherds cower. When Job shook his fist at God and called him to give accounting of his worthiness, God answered by showing his works. “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth?” “Have you commanded the morning … and caused the dawn to know it’s place?” “Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion?” Wonder is the appropriate reaction to holiness, power, majesty. To be indifferent is to have missed the encounter.

Cultivating Wonder

I’ve come to think of cultivating Wonder as an act of Worship. I’ve been working to teach myself to see the world with fresh eyes as much as I can, to look for the miraculous in the mundane, to find beauty in the boring, to be curious about the commonplace. It’s true that I find it harder to do as I get older, and I no longer have young children around to show me the world through different eyes, but I think it’s important. I don’t want to get used to the things that once caused me joy. I don’t want to be comfortable in my blessings, but to count them daily. When I can’t find my own sense of wonder, I’ll look to borrow from those around me, and maybe… just maybe I’ll have a little to loan you when you find yourself running low.