Fear and Wonder

This weekend Pastor David Holcomb preached about "Wonder." He made the marvelous point that the opposite of wonder is boredom. He said that our cultural norm is boredom and its offspring-- mindless entertainment. And he suggested these are symptoms of practical atheism and materialism, and a soul that is asleep.

To the extent that I have moved from boredom to wonder (and this movement has only been a tiny start, and some days far less of a start than others), I have recognized boredom being replaced by a new feeling I haven't made peace with--a feeling of near paralyzing fear.

I'm not the only one. Again and again, when I talk to people about making art, or writing, or just daring to really come alive (and thus live in wonder), they speak to me about fears. But this is not only in my little corner of the world; when I read about making art or about facing the soul, the same words also come up over and over: "anxiousness, fear, anxiety, dread."

I hear many explanations for this creeping anxiety and fear: our profound insecurities, a fear of being misunderstood, fear of judgements from ourselves and from others, fear of releasing emotions long buried, fear of not being "Christian enough," fear of wasting our time, even fear of our own pride if we acheive some status through our art.

I can relate to every one of these fears and more. They plague me. They oppress me. And I think they are each worth exploring--in conversations, in books, and on this blog. But as I listened to Dave's sermon, I had a different thought.

It was a little idea....and my fear is it's a crazy idea...completely off-base...but let me just explore it with you. My thought was, "Of course we're afraid. Fear is the most natural response for souls on the cusp of wonder."

Think about it. Every time someone in the Bible encounters a forceful taste of the wonder of God's Kingdom...a visit by angels, a miracle of Jesus, a vision of God's glory... the immediate, uncontrolled, unmeditated response is terror.

I think this is because in a moment of wonder comes the recognition that the universe is not what I thought it was. It's bigger---more beautiful, more terrible, more real, more alive, more wild than I will ever comprehend, and certainly beyond anything I can ever hope to control. And so my life is not what I thought. All that I based my life on, subconciously and consciously, has shifted. It's an earthquake, of sorts.

So, here's my little idea:

We all feel this profound insecurity about making art. But behind this insecurity, perhaps, is our very self's fear of loss of control. It's our fear of wonder. For to dare to make art is to dare to move into the world of wonder---to marvel at the largeness of our own souls, to marvel at the truth and beauty gleaming and flaming around us in every person and every blade of glass.

And if we move in that direction, we will have to give up all those ideas of security and insecurity completely. They will become meaningless and thus useless to us. Did we think we acheived our own security by hiding? By pretending we were in control? By imagining that we could manage others' feelings and thoughts and opinions about us?

The judgements we fear from others...their strongest praise, their greatest condemnation....these too will be just as meaningless. For what can we do but agree with Jesus' words to the rich, young ruler:"Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone."

The fears of facing our shame or pride (which are two sides of the same fallacy--that our actions will guarantee we merit condemnation or praise) will also become irrelevant. This life, this world and our place in it is not our story--it is too wonderful for us.

The threat of our emotions overwhelming us is very real. But, isn't that a fear of facing the large, unknown reality of ourselves and God's wonderous work in creating us?

Isn't the world starting to quake under our feet? We won't have feelings or words or images or music strong enough to describe this terrifyingly beautiful and strong and alive universe we've been made a part of. How can we not fear this seismic disruption?

But then there's something more. Isn't there? This is what I have not yet been able to experience in any fullness that satisfies me. But again and again I think about those words, "Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. It is I."

Because if what our observations and feelings suggest is true... if what our art reveals is true... if what those moments of wonder demand is true... and we're not in control, and our attempts to acheive an externally judged "good" are meaningless, and if this universe is so much much more than the physical and the human systems set in place, then.... just beyond the fear is hope.

For I believe this is the longing and deepest desire of every artist (whether or not we are conscious of it)-- the hunger to BE in the presence of the One who is Wonderful beyond all our hungers, and all our fears.