By Sandra Bost
My husband and I were given a trip to North Conway, New Hampshire for our honeymoon almost 33 years ago. Neither of us had been to the New England states, so we just opened our brother’s RCI catalog and chose a charming, historical hotel in the heart of the Mount Washington Valley.
We didn’t know anything about the area, it just looked sweet. While we were there, we decided to explore the scenery a little, so we drove our rental car about an hour and a half southeast to the coast of Maine. We didn’t have an agenda, we just wanted to eat some lobster and see the ocean. Entering Portland, we began to see signs of a lighthouse nearby and decided to add to our adventure.
It was picturesque. In the foggy, snowy cold–around dusk–we scaled the craggy rocks around the lighthouse keeper’s quarters with its glorious gabled, rust-red roof. We took pictures of each other posing in front of the lovely lighthouse with its white tower beneath the glass-enclosed lantern room capped by its black dome. The lightning rod on the very top added an extra layer of allure. Standing there, awestruck, we couldn’t help but feel familiar with this scene.
It wasn’t until a year or two later that we began to see “our lighthouse” in picture books, postcards, paintings, and jigsaw puzzles. That’s when we finally realized that we had happened upon the iconic Portland Head Light–commissioned by George Washington in 1787. We had no idea we were playing at the base of the first lighthouse completed under the newly formed United States government in 1791. (Tell me you didn’t take time to read the historical markers without telling me.) We walked around this famous, historic landmark with a measure of awe but with the cluelessness of a golden retriever wandering onto the stage of a live opera. And that got me thinking: isn’t that how we approach God on any given day?
We feel a casual familiarity with Him. We know the Sunday school answers, we recognize the “scenery” of faith, and we comfortably walk around His Holiness with a sense of easy belonging.
But–in our familiarity–we can easily lose our awe. We play in the shadow of the Almighty without looking up to see the towering, brilliant beacon of His grace, forgetting that the love sheltering us is a historical–living–earth-shaking force. Yet, the scriptures remind us that the One who shelters and guides us is not a passive landmark we can take for granted. He is the active, sovereign Creator who spoke the very foundations of earth into existence. The psalmist calls us back to this necessary posture of wonder:
“Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him! For He spoke, and it came to be; He commanded, and it stood firm” (ESV).
When we step out of our casual familiarity and truly seek to know Him, we realize that our God doesn’t just offer a comforting, scenic presence. He commands the storms, establishes the shores, and stands as an immovable, eternal stronghold. And that changes everything.
When we live from a place of awe, the shift from casual familiarity—which costs nothing and does not lead to a heart that trusts God—to holy wonder transforms both our inner peace and our outer purpose. It changes the way we step out into a chaotic world each morning, and it completely reframes how we walk alongside others.
When we are anchored in awe of the Creator who spoke the world into motion, we no longer have to face the day trembling at the size of our storms. We can realize that the God who commands the wind and waves is the very one holding our lives securely–lovingly. Reminding ourselves of His immense majesty helps us surrender to His will before our feet ever hit the floor in the morning.
Living in awe also frees us from the exhausting pressure of trying to save everyone in our own strength. It changes how we mentor, parent, and disciple, because we realize the greatness and power of our God.
I heard a metaphor the other day about a lighthouse and a rescue boat. It made me pause and completely re-evaluate how I show up for the people I love. It’s the idea that illustrates the difference between enabling, self-sacrificing behavior and providing steady, sustainable guidance.
When we live in awe of our Lighthouse, we stop living like frantic rescue boats, exhausting ourselves trying to pull people out of every self-inflicted storm. Instead, we offer them a steady reflection of Christ’s character. We show them what it looks like let God anchor their souls, and point them to the Great Light that can guide them through any darkness.
Walking with God was never meant to be happenstance. It is an invitation to stand in the presence of a glorious, unsearchable, and sovereign King.
As you step into your week, ask Jesus to help you stand in awe of Him. Let the sheer majesty of the Creator capture your heart all over again. Stand firm, let His light shine through you, and watch how living in awe changes absolutely everything.
