What gives you a sense of wonder?

When was the last time you were in awe of something?

What stirs your soul with a sense of fear and amazement?

When I was a child, my parents would often read to me from my “Child’s Story Bible”. Our bedtime ritual consisted of the recollection of these ancient stories: Samson’s feats of strength and daring, Noah’s persistent faith amid the throngs of mocking voices, Daniel’s heroism in the lion’s den. My all-time favorite: the story of Moses. I loved hearing of his life & the special relationship he shared with God. I would beg my parents to read me his story every night. (I was such a fan, I even dressed up as Moses for Halloween one year!) It was through this Children’s Bible that the stories of old were brought to me in vivd fashion.

Somewhere along the way, at around 8 or 9, something began to happen. It was probably in the 100th reading of these stories, but it was at that age that things began to click with me. I began to see these stories not simply as individual episodes but rather, as part of a larger narrative — threads in a tapestry — with a greater purpose. These stories became real to me and I personalized them. I read of Adam & Eve’s deliberate, willful sin in the Garden and how it pained God — and I began to understand that my own sin pained my God in much the same way. I read of Noah and I understood what my father meant when he said being a man means standing up for what’s right, even if you stand alone. I read of these heroes of old — Elijah, David, Abraham — and I understood God was the common denominator in each narrative.

And then I came to the New Testament and I read about Jesus and my love for him was sudden and certain. I loved his way of speaking, and when he talked about turning the other cheek and loving your neighbor as yourself, it resonated with me. He said “Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God,” and I knew I wanted to claim that promise. I read about his miracles: turning water to wine, healing the lame, feeding the poor. I read about those men whom he called, those who followed Him: Simon, the fisherman turned fisher-of-men; his brother, Andrew, who wouldn’t stop bringing people to Jesus; John, the one called beloved. And I wanted to be like these men; I, too, wanted to follow Jesus. But I read of one who betrayed Jesus — Judas — who turned him over to the ones who didn’t like the things Jesus did and taught. I read that they tried him, made false accusations against him. They turned him over to Pilate, who sentenced him to die. They beat him, they spit upon him, they traipsed him up a hill and they nailed him to a tree. And they killed him.

And at just that moment…when the story seemed so dark…when all hope seemed to be lost…the greatest miracle of all occurred. Sunday morning came. The stone rolled away. And Jesus walked out of the tomb…ALIVE! He arose, victorious over death. He’d taken Satan’s best shot and he came out on top! He lives! And at that moment, I believed! Took this story for all it was worth. I couldn’t believe He did it! And then in the reading came the sweetest revelation of all: He did it for me. He bled and died, enduring pain and scorn for me. He who had been without sin became sin on my account. His death took care of my sin and His victory over death was promised to me, too! And I believed the fuller at this understanding, for how could I resist the One who loved me so dearly and so completely as to die for me?

Do you remember that feeling, the hour you first believed? Do you remember the sense of awe & wonder at the moment of initial comprehension, that Jesus died for you! What a beautiful moment, when a soul gains the understanding of this Truth! What a wonder-full God we have, who loves us so much!