Shuttles and Earthquakes

I'm heading home to Florida at the end of the month.  Today my sister called to let me know that a shuttle is scheduled to launch while I'm home.  I shocked even myself at the level of excitement I felt over this.  For eight years I lived in Florida, just minutes away from Kennedy Space Center; shuttle launches aren't exactly a new thrill for me.  But ever since I heard about the soon-coming finale of space shuttles, I've yearned to hear, see and feel just one more launch.  

I was 13 when we moved to Florida, and I'll never forget that first launch.  I was laying in bed, and as I drifted off to sleep, the floor beneath me began to rumble and the walls began to shake.  I jumped out of bed, ran into the living room and asked my parents if this was an earthquake.  Together, our family realized for the first time the wonder of living so close to the space center.  We went outside into our backyard and watched the night sky light up like noonday thanks to a flair of light trailing behind the shuttle.  It was brilliant, awe-inspiring, unforgettable.  For a minute, I felt like I had looked into the face of God Himself.  I stared into the sky and watched as that blaze of light slowly drifted into a smaller and smaller speck among scores of other stars.  Finally I returned to bed, my heart full with the wonder and mystery I could only describe as "beyond me."  

Over the years, I loved shuttle and rocket launches.  But somewhere along the way, I'd find that a launch had happened, and I missed it.  Not only did I not know it was happening, but I didn't even hear or feel it happening.  Visitors to town could ask, "Didn't you hear the sonic boom?  Didn't you feel the rumble?" and I'd realize no, I didn't hear it - I didn't even feel it.  For them it was life-changing, impossible to miss, but for me...I was used to it, so I missed it.

I find this habit in my life with God.  In the early days of knowing Him, I was constantly struck by the wonder, mystery, beauty and majesty of all that He is.  I couldn't describe Him as much other than "beyond me," but "beyond me" was quite enough.  In that "beyond me" was the understanding that He is enormous, wondrous magnificent.  I was moved by Him, inspired by Him, yearning constantly to hear, see and feel Him.  It seems in a way, the more He revealed Himself, the less I appreciated Him.  I grew accustomed to Him, and in essence, could find myself sleeping through the moments when He would love to shake the ground right beneath my feet.  

I still love shuttle launches, and I still love Jesus.  I'm just growing aware that over time and tradition, I run the risk of losing the joy and wonder of all that He is.  I'm asking Him to hold me in the sort of childlike awe that will leap out of bed to watch Him at work.  

My dad often tells me, "God is always working."  I believe that.  Now the question is, am I paying attention?