"Ehh...You Get Used to It."

This picture doesn't do
justice to the actual view. 

I am greeted by this sight most days when I drive down my street and turn the corner to leave my neighborhood.  Because our house is roughly 7 miles east of where the Rocky Mountains start popping out of the plains, I can see both the intricate details of the smaller ‘front range’ hills, as well as the white capped majesty of the taller mountains of the ‘back range.’  It is an idyllic vista, especially on the mornings when the rising sun splashes it with hues of red and orange against the backdrop of a deep blue sky.   In fact, you’d think most humans would label it “awe inspiring”. 

And it is. 

However, the sad reality is that these days, when I see this sight, awe and inspiration are not on the docket of things I experience.

Why?

How is it that God’s beautiful creation that is especially apparent here where I live in Boulder, Colorado, is unable to inspire awe within me?  How can it be that the sight of the craggy slabs of the Flatirons sitting askew to the horizon, looking to all the world as if some huge toddler had been at play, imaginatively building castle walls with flat stones that had been laying about, not make me feel a sense of reverence?  After all, does not Romans 1:20 say: For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God.

Yet, so frequently my mind is somewhere else, focused on something else.  When my eyes scan the horizon and drinks in the sight, the only processing going on in my brain is trying to determine the weather.  The author(s) of Psalms frequently speak about the heavens and the earth declaring the glory of God, but my only interest is whether or not the heavens will open up and rain that day because I suddenly realize that I failed to bring a rain coat. 

Is there a problem here? Yes.  But I don’t think the problem is God. I’m pretty sure the problem is me.  Actually, I know the problem is me.

It reminds me of a trip I took 8 years ago with my wife to the Hawaiian Island of Oahu. We were celebrating our 20^th wedding anniversary. We stayed on the east side of the Island with a close and dear friend whose husband is a helicopter pilot in the Marines.  We had the privilege of wandering Pacific beaches that were almost uninhabited because the Marine base is closed to civilians.  We also toured the sights; ate the food; enjoyed the atmosphere. The sun, the climate, the ocean…all of it added up to the descriptive word paradise that is frequently associated with Hawaii. 

But there was one moment in particular that brought something into sharp focus for me.  It happened when I was playing a round on the base’s golf course.  Many of the holes run parallel to the Pacific.  On one of them, I stood on the tee box that was on top of

The tee box on the
14th hole...if memory serves me.

a bluff and gave incredible views in every direction.  To my right, sapphire waters speckled with whitecaps stretched off to the horizon.  Straight ahead, the verdant cliffs of Oahu towered in the distance, reflecting a spectrum of green vegetation.  Above me, puffy low lying clouds scuttled along in the tropical wind before they collided with the cliff heights and turned into a light grey mist. Below where I stood, the ocean waves were crashing into the shore, echoing sounds of its relentless quest to pound coral into sand.  The spray tossed up the kind of salty and alluring fragrance that only a tropical ocean can.  All in all, it was a full body experience of the spectacular beauty of the creation of God…and I was overwhelmed in awe and reverence.

At that moment, as I gazed at the splendor, I said out loud to my two playing partners, both of who were life time residents of the island: “How wonderful it must be to wake up in this beautiful place every morning and see this gorgeous scenery.”  One of the men, who was busily lining up his tee shot, shot back a reply without even looking up from his petty task: “Ehh…you get used to it.” 

“Ehh…you get used to it.”

I think that statement can epitomize how we embrace our faith over time.  The first time the power of grace of Jesus enters our life, we are bowled over with awe.  We are infused with reverence.  Excitement courses through our veins and we want to run around yelping with delight over the inherent beauty of forgiveness, love, joy, and peace that emanates from God and being citizens of his Kingdom.  It is like the gorgeous views of the Rocky Mountain; the whole body experiences of a tropical paradise. But maybe over time that excitement fades because we simply ‘get used to it.’  Like my golfing partners in Hawaii, the beauty slowly morphs into the mundane and routine. 

But this happens to us humans.  They say that familiarity breeds contempt.  Maybe we don’t slide that far down in our faith, but perhaps we’ll slip to the point of apathy or indifference.  The amazing reality that the God of the universe came to dwell with us in the person of Jesus Christ is something we have gotten so used to it that we no longer see the beauty or appreciate the wonder.

So what are we to do?

I have a tactic that works for me, whether I am talking about trying to revitalize my faith or re-appreciate the beautiful landscape that surrounds me: “Renew by getting a different view.”  For instance, when I start to take the mountains here in Colorado for granted, I search out a different location to appreciate them.  I might take a hike on a new trail, or simply go to a different part of the state.  But I know this much...whenever I see the same mountains from a new perspective, I always find that I am rejuvenated.  I try to do the same with my faith.  I read and study something about the faith that is unfamiliar to me, or worship in a different setting, or serve the Kingdom in new context.  In other words, I strive to intentionally position myself to the Lord in a way that feels new and fresh.

It is then when the awe of God returns, and the "Ehh...You get used to to it" feeling fades. I am reminded of real beauty of my faith...and on most morning as I turn that corner of my street and see those mountains yet again, that is exactly what I need. 

Keep the faith,