I had been invited to speak at my first event, a gathering of more than 1,500 men and women. The organizers spared no expense. Picked up in a stretch limousine, I remember walking into the gathering and being greeted by an enormous ice sculpture boasting the name of the event. A perky 20-something took me to my first green room where I was bewildered why nothing in the room was, well, green. I had a lot to learn.
I hobnobbed with chart-topping musicians, listened to captivating speakers, and spent time talking with thought leaders from around the globe. Something gnawed at me. The host introduced me to several dazzling presenters, but the conversations felt flat, leaving me confused.
Empty Eyes
At the close of the gathering, as the stage was being dismantled, I stood next to Mark, one of the programming producers.
"How do you not become that thing?" I asked.
"What?" he asked.
I struggled to describe the emptiness, the hollowness that I'd seen. "Those who speak of the beauty of God, but when you look in their eyes, you can tell they're not fully present and have become only a ghost of their former selves."
Mark shifted his eyes to the ground.
"Do you know?" I asked, unsure if I'd crossed the line into the great unspoken.
"That's a question we have to ask ourselves and keep asking," he said. "Maybe if we don't stop asking, we won't end up that way."
The last time I saw Mark, he still had a spark of spiritual life in his eyes.
Since that first event many years ago, I've continued asking people the same basic question. How do you remain fully present, fully-engaged, fully-alive in a ministry that can become mundane, rote, and nothing more than an empty repetition? I don't just ask the question in public gatherings but private ones—not just among ministers but among entrepreneurs, stay-at home moms, empty nesters, retirees, and college students. Because I've seen that ghost-like look in countless eyes regardless of age, socio-economic status, or profession.
The battle is constant. Nowhere is this more true than for those who work in ministry.
"How do I not lose myself?" I ask like a beggar asking for scraps of wisdom. Over the years I've collected a treasure chest. Most of the advice is simple but transformative.
- Work with good people you enjoy.
- Stay grounded in community.
- Stay rooted in Scripture.
- Surround yourself with people who love you enough to say "no."
The Power of Wonder
Such wisdom has shaped the way I live. If I have to choose between hiring a flashy hipster and someone who exhibits gracious loyalty, I opt for the latter. I work to cultivate deep and long-lasting friendships as well as a few wildcard friendships with zany characters that remind me of the importance of coloring outside the lines of life. But some of the most winsome wisdom I was ever given came during a chance encounter with a well-seasoned ministry worker named Nancy.
Over a cup of tea, I decided to pose the question, "How do I not become a hollow soul?"
"Never lose the wonder," she said without hesitating.
I slowly drank in those four words. Why had no one suggested this sooner?
Wonder reignites our faith. Wonder asks us to live with eyes wide open to God. Wonder invites us out of the shallows and into hallows of the divine.
I began praying for wonder. When I added the request to those I lay before God each morning, I never guessed that such a simple prayer could be so potent. In the appeal for wonder, I petitioned God to rouse me anew to the message of Jesus that shocked the ancient world. I asked God to draw me deeper into holy presence to reveal divine unspeakables. I beseeched the Creator of all to renew the childlike sense of wonder that had long since faded under the responsibilities of becoming an adult.
God answered in unexpected and startling ways.
I began noticing that I couldn't talk to a customer service agent, repairman, or call center without having a conversation about faith. Whenever I called to inquire about a bill or update our credit card information, the conversation shifted to God without effort. This wasn't just happening to me, but also to my husband, Leif. We were both left wonderstruck.
One of the places God left me wonderstruck was in our driveway. When we first moved into our home, we had a neighbor whose family members loved to park in our yard. Before pulling out in the morning, they liked to empty the trash from their cars into our lawn. We asked them repeatedly to park on their own property, but they heeded the request only after a heated discussion and threat to call the police. For years, these neighbors never spoke to us. I'd tried to say hello and they'd simply look away. I finally gave up.
Then one day, I turned around while unloading groceries from the car. My neighbor, yes that neighbor, was looking my direction with a hand in the air and said, "Hi!" I looked behind me wondering if someone else was being addressed. No one was there.
I quickly said, "Hello" back, startled by our first greeting in years. A few days later he did it again—and since then the relationship has continued to bud with renewal. The icy relationship is now warm and amiable. If I hadn't been praying for wonder and looking for God to respond, might I have missed the moment?
Soon after that encounter, we were spending time with a friend who has always been closed to any discussion of faith. The person texted Leif and asked, "Do you know a pastor I could talk to?" We both looked at each other shell-shocked. Within a few weeks, our friend's faith was vibrant as she gave her life fully to Christ.
The prayer for wonder wasn't just affecting relationships, but my outlook on life. Each morning I like to hike the trails behind our home. A creature of habit, I've hiked the same trail most mornings and many evenings since we moved in. I'm well-versed in the terrain, the exact time the hike requires. But since I began praying for wonder something changed. I began encountering details and scenes I never noticed before.
The sight of a white butterfly landing on a lavender flower petal. A sunset's last wild burst of beauty. The sweet fragrance of the forest.
Just a few weeks ago I came upon a deer that had just given birth to two fawns. I watched awestruck as these babies took some of their first wobbly steps.
How did I walk the same trail more than a thousand times and not notice such details or encounter such unforgettable moments?
I don't know.
But I'm praying for wonder and now I'm encountering these moments of spiritual awakening that make me want to know God more.
The book of Isaiah describes a people whose hearts have grown hard. They've mastered the art of going through the motions of faith, but they're empty inside. They've not only lost God, they've lost themselves.
Isaiah records God's response, "Therefore once more I will astound these people with wonder upon wonder; the wisdom of the wise will perish, the intelligence of the intelligent will vanish" (Isa. 29:14).
Rather than answer the people with fire or judgment, God does something remarkable. God takes their breath away. God performs miracles beyond anything they thought possible.
What if God wants to do the same in our own lives? And ministries? What if experiencing the wonder of God sparks our affection and desire for him even more?
I know it has in my life.
Margaret Feinberg is a speaker and author. Her latest book is Wonderstruck: Awaken to the Nearness of God (Worthy, 2012).
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