The scientist and theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel once prayed, “I did not ask for success. I asked for wonder.” In a world that races toward achievement, accumulation, and acclaim, that simple prayer arrests the soul. It reminds us that something deeper, more enduring, more necessary than success is available to those who seek it. Something sacred. Something eternal.
Wonder.
We are a people in desperate need of wonder—not the cheap spectacle of distraction, but the holy kind that causes knees to buckle and hearts to burn. The kind that lifts our eyes from the grind of daily life to behold the glory of a God who still splits seas, who still raises the dead, and who still walks with those who seek Him.
But how do we recover a sense of wonder in a world so weighed down by cynicism, exhaustion, and noise?
We Were Made for Wonder
God designed us with the capacity—and the hunger—for awe.
From the beginning, Adam and Eve walked with God in the cool of the day. No schedule. No fear. Just relationship. Just wonder. They didn’t need to be told to worship; they lived in it. Every flower, every bird, every breath was a reminder of the One who made them.
Psalm 19:1 proclaims, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.” Creation still cries out, but we no longer hear it. We scroll past it. We drown it out. And slowly, something inside us dries up.
That’s why we ask for wonder—not to escape reality, but to see reality rightly.
Jesus Was Filled with Wonder—and Brought It
Jesus was not dull. He didn’t trudge through life mechanically. He marveled at the faith of the centurion. He wept at the tomb of Lazarus. He rejoiced in the Spirit. He noticed things—the widow’s offering, the lilies of the field, the sparrows in the trees. His life was filled with attentiveness and awe.
And wherever Jesus went, wonder followed. The blind saw, the lame walked, the deaf heard. People were astonished—not just by His miracles, but by His compassion, His wisdom, His presence. They asked, “What kind of man is this?” (Matthew 8:27). Even His enemies couldn’t deny the power of His words.
He didn’t just perform wonders. He was the wonder.
Why We Lose Our Wonder
We don’t lose wonder all at once. It leaks out, little by little.
We lose it when we stop paying attention.
We lose it when we explain everything away.
We lose it when pain closes our hearts.
We lose it when we equate maturity with skepticism.
We lose it when we let the news shape our worldview more than Scripture.
Like the church in Ephesus, we forsake our first love—not by rebellion, but by forgetting. We go through the motions. We stop expecting the miraculous. And our prayers shrink accordingly.
We don’t expect to be moved anymore. But what if we did?
A Childlike Spirit
Jesus told us that unless we become like little children, we cannot enter the kingdom of God (Matthew 18:3). Children still believe in wonder. They live in stories. They ask questions. They stare at clouds and chase butterflies. They believe their Father is good, and that anything is possible.
That’s not immaturity. That’s the right posture before a God who spoke galaxies into existence.
Faith isn’t about knowing all the answers—it’s about being willing to stand before mystery and trust. And that’s where wonder lives.
Wonder in the Ordinary
Most of life is not made of mountain-top moments or burning bush encounters. Most of life is laundry and long commutes, dishes and deadlines. But even here—especially here—wonder waits.
Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century monk, wrote about “practicing the presence of God” while washing pots and pans. He found wonder in the simplicity of doing everything for the love of Christ.
God hides glory in the mundane. A sunrise. A kind word. A loaf of bread broken with friends. A baby’s laugh. The Spirit whispering peace when nothing in your life makes sense.
To those who are looking, everything becomes a burning bush.
Asking for Wonder Is a Bold Prayer
To ask for wonder is to ask to be undone.
It means letting go of self-sufficiency and control.
It means being willing to be surprised, even disrupted.
It means asking God to restore what cynicism tried to steal.
It means believing again.
Wonder isn’t just an emotion—it’s a spiritual condition. It’s the result of beholding God rightly. When Isaiah saw the Lord, high and lifted up, he cried out, “Woe to me! I am ruined!” (Isaiah 6:5). True wonder humbles us, wrecks us, restores us.
Practical Ways to Cultivate Wonder
Here are a few practices that can help:
- Slow Down. Wonder doesn’t live in a hurry. Take time to walk without a destination. Look up.
- Read Scripture with Awe. Don’t just study it—let it read you. Expect the living God to speak.
- Silence the Noise. Turn off the phone. Turn down the media. Make room for sacred interruptions.
- Create Something. Paint. Write. Garden. Build. Co-create with the Creator.
- Worship Fully. Don’t just sing songs—engage your whole being. Respond to God’s greatness with your heart wide open.
- Ask Questions. Cultivate curiosity. Wonder starts with wonder-ing.
What Happens When We Live with Wonder
When we regain our wonder, we live differently. We pray bigger prayers. We love more deeply. We trust more freely. We become radiant with joy, even in suffering, because we know this life is not all there is.
We become signs and wonders ourselves—living testimonies that God is alive and still at work.
Wonder changes everything. It lifts our gaze. It softens our hearts. It brings us back to the childlike faith Jesus praises.
Conclusion: I Still Ask for Wonder
I don’t ask for ease. I don’t ask for riches. I don’t even ask for answers.
I ask for wonder.
I ask for eyes that still see God’s fingerprints on ordinary days. I ask for a heart that trembles at His Word. I ask for a spirit that notices the sacred in the simple.
Because if I have wonder, I will never stop worshiping. I will never stop believing. I will never stop being amazed that the God of the universe knows my name and still walks with me.
So, Lord, revive my wonder.
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