Over this winter break, I got to spend a lot of time with family and friends during the holiday season. It was a great experience and I loved getting to catch up with everyone. A big family means that times we are all together for extended periods are becoming less and less common, meaning I’m learning more and more each time I come home the value of family.
I got to spend a lot of time this break with my nephew, Luke. He turned 1 year old over the break (complete with over-the-top party that he definitely won’t remember–but don’t worry, the pictures were adorable), and one of the things that we did was take him to Wonders of Wildlife in Springfield, Missouri. If you don’t know what Wonders of Wildlife is, it’s basically a mega-aquarium/field museum build by Johnny Morris (the guy who owns Bass Pro). It sits connected to Bass Pro and pretty much is an exercise in how ridiculously large an aquarium can get while still being classified as an aquarium and not an “immersive experience in labyrinth technology.”
All that being said, my nephew Luke loved it all. He would flitter from one fish tank to the next, letting out happy little giggles in between trying to smack all of the glass walls of the fish tanks and crying because his mom wouldn’t let him drink the water from the exhibit where you can touch the stingrays (so aside from a few brief cries, it all went alright).
I, myself, have been to Wonders of Wildlife a handful of times. A yearlong membership for the family means that we all go pretty much anytime any of us are in town. And while it is still really cool to go through and see all the different exhibits, it can become a little repetitive and numbing after a while. You get used to seeing something to the point that you forget the craziness of the thing being there in the first place.
Seeing Luke love Wonders of Wildlife so much reminded me of a song lyric from a song by Andy Gullahorn called “Burning Bushes.”
I've never seen a dead man come to life Or seen a blind man get his sight I've never seen water turned to wine It isn't that I don't believe but it would be easier for me If you would just send down a sign I remember the childlike innocence A faith with no coincidence The world around was living proof Has that world just disappeared or is it me that isn't clear How to recognize it's you I'm praying for a miracle to let me know you're listening Waiting for a lightning bolt to strike Walking through a garden of a thousand burning bushes Looking up to heaven for a sign
To keep the context of the song, I kept a lot of the lyrics surrounding the part I was remembering, but I went ahead and bolded the lyric I was reminded of.
It’s all too easy in our present-day to become distracted and not recognize the wonders that we have been given. Sometimes we forget the gifts that we have been given. We forget the wonders that we have been shown. And then someone reminds us of all that we’ve forgotten, and we recognize the gravity of our mistake and the gravity of that which we had forgotten.
If we are called to have the faith of a child (Matt. 18:3), then I believe we are also called to have the wonder of a child as well.
God will show us wonders. He has before. He will continue to–provided that we open our eyes and recognize the wonders and signs around us. We all too often have thousands of burning bushes in our gardens. The ironic and tragic part of it all is that we often end up using the light they give to search for miracles, the whole time not realizing where the source of the light was coming from.
Sometimes we get so caught up in looking for a miracle or a sign that we don’t notice the garden of burning bushes all around us.
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