THE CHURCH STILL KNOWS... WONDER

​We live in a world that's explained everything away.

Google gives us answers in 0.3 seconds. We've reduced sunsets to wavelengths of light. Love becomes oxytocin and dopamine. Beauty gets analyzed until there's nothing left to marvel at. We've turned mystery into data points and wonder into Wikipedia entries.
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Somewhere along the way, we forgot how to be amazed.
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Children still know how. They ask "why?" not because they need the answer filed away, but because they're captivated. They stare at bugs, at clouds, at how water swirls down a drain. They haven't been told yet that wonder is childish, that growing up means leaving amazement behind.

But most of us have been trained out of it. We scroll past beauty. We explain away awe. We're too busy, too sophisticated, too certain about how things work to let ourselves be surprised anymore. And we desperately need the ones who haven't forgotten: the artists, the dreamers, the ones who still stop to stare at the sky.

The Church still knows how to wonder.

We gather each Sunday and stand in awe at what God is doing, not because we have it all figured out, but because we're encountered by something beyond ourselves. We take bread and wine and wonder at the gift. We sing ancient words and feel connected to something vast and enduring. We baptize and watch the water pour, trusting God is at work in ways we can't fully explain or control.

This past Sunday we celebrated first communion with our second graders. One child received the bread for the first time, tasted it, and said "Oooo"—eyes wide, voice full of wonder. His mom was caught off guard—you don't usually hear "Oooo" at the communion rail. But I told her and his dad: if only more of us had that reaction. If only we could receive the gift with that kind of amazement instead of going through the motions.
 
Children haven't forgotten how to wonder at what's holy. Maybe that's why Jesus said we need to become like them.

The Apostle Paul wrote, "Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face." He wasn't resigned to ignorance. He was living in wonder, leaning into what he could partially see, amazed by what God was revealing, trusting there was more to come.

That's what wonder does. It keeps us curious. Humble. Engaged. It reminds us that we're not the ones with all the answers, and that's not a failure. It's an invitation.

When was the last time you were truly amazed? When did you last let yourself wonder at something without needing to explain it away?

The world may need everything explained and controlled. But the Church still knows how to wonder.

And maybe that's exactly what faithfulness looks like: not having it all figured out, but being amazed by what God is doing anyway.
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Peace,
Travis Segar
Pastor for Care and Community