Growing up, one of my favorite shows to watch with my family might come as a surprise. Together, we were avid viewers of Unsolved Mysteries. There was just something about the “real-life” unexplainable, the mystifying, the supernatural, that absolutely hooked us. We loved coming up with our own theories along the way, but nonetheless, each episode always ended with more questions rather than answers. And there was something oddly satisfying about that. As you might imagine, when Netflix released a reboot of the show a few years ago, I was all in. Although, let’s be honest, it just isn’t the same without Robert Stack as host.

Now, you might think that as a kid, I would find a show like that to be creepy. Eerie. Scary. Maybe nightmare-inducing. And, depending on the episode, maybe a little. But what I remember most about watching that show isn’t necessarily a feeling of fear; it was more a feeling of fascination each and every week. If something couldn’t be figured out or nailed down, rather than growing frustrated, I grew more and more captivated. That there could be so much more beyond what I could understand or explain or rationalize was exciting to me. After all, I was a kid. And there’s nothing quite like childlike wonder.

Maybe that’s part of why, to this day, I love a good mystery novel or thriller-series binge. Give me all the cliffhangers, all the page-turners, all the plot twists. The suspense never kills me.

While I know it’s not totally the same, one thing I’m learning is that a similar sense of mystery and wonder can be an important part of our faith. Although, if I’m being honest, for me, unsolved mysteries in the context of my faith are a bit harder to embrace.

Often, I prefer a faith I can figure out. A God I can both know and fully understand. A theology that is set in stone, fitting nice and neat in a sturdy box, where, as author Mike Cosper puts it, “what you see is what you get.”

And yet, maybe the call is not to be a know-it-all. Maybe the invitation is more wonder-full than that. As Cosper continues in his book, Recapturing the Wonder, maybe

“Life with God is an invitation into a world where most of what makes sense to you crumbles. It’s far richer than you imagined, far less orderly and sensible, and far more mysterious… [O]nce you begin to see the wonder of it, you find yourself awestruck and, somehow, satisfied.”

For me, it’s that word, “awestruck,” Cosper uses. Throughout Scripture, we read and hear about the fear of the Lord. And often, that term, “fear,” is interpreted to mean a sort of healthy respect, honor, or reverence. And I think that is a true interpretation. But also, I wonder if that reverence is rooted in a sort of awe—being in awe of all we don’t know. In awe of all we don’t understand. In awe of all the ways we aren’t in charge, all the ways we aren’t in control. All the ways God can surprise and mesmerize us along the way.

It’s not that knowledge or intellect are wrong or unimportant; it is good for us to study and learn and grow in understanding. But, in humility, it is also good to remember that our own understanding will only take us so far. Even Albert Einstein knew and embraced the gift of the unknown, writing,

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead —his eyes are closed.”

For me, that begs the question, how often are my eyes closed to the wonder of God? How often is my heart resistant to the mysterious work of God? And what might it look like to be more open to it?

I think it might begin with awareness, intentional attention, and simply sitting with an experience instead of rushing to explain it. Perhaps one of the best examples of this we find in Scripture is in Luke 1-2, with Jesus’ mother, Mary. After the angel visits her and tells her she will give birth to God’s Son, she does ask, “How can this be?” But it seems that when the angel tells her it will involve the movement of the Spirit of God, Mary begins to let go of the logistics, choosing instead to be present to the mystery of it all. Scripture tells us she treasures and ponders the experience in her heart, focusing less on the “how” and more on the “wow.”

In his book, Soulful Spirituality, David Benner describes it this way:

“Wonder about anything is a pondering that holds the object of our attention gently without having to solve it or figure it out. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is described in the Gospels as pondering in her heart the angelic proclamation that her newborn son was Christ the Lord… Wonder is more a matter of heart-pondering than mind-thinking. It is rumination that leaves space for mystery, confusion, fear, uncertainty, awe, paradox, and questions. It receives all of these with soul hospitality and welcome.”

So how might we lean into the “wow”  rather than the “how” in our own lives of faith?

Surprising to no one, I don’t have a hard and fast “how-to” to share with you. But I do have a story.

About eight or nine years ago, I was over at Brad’s condo right outside Atlanta, taking care of his dog, Kaylee, while he was out of town. I was preparing to speak and share with several groups of youth during a week-long summer mission trip. The trip was still a couple weeks away, but, like I said, I was preparing, so I had my computer and notes and a couple commentaries with me.

The particular message I was working on was centered on Moses and the burning bush found in Exodus 3. It’s one of my favorite stories from Scripture, so you would think teaching on it would be a breeze, but I was stuck. For whatever reason, I was all wrapped up in my own insecurities, feelings of inadequacy, just kind of in a dark state of mind. These same anxious thoughts were on a loop inside my head and heart: “I don’t think I can do this. Who am I to do this?” Ironic, since those were pretty much Moses’ thoughts in the story. And aren’t they all of our thoughts at some point or another?

Anyway, I knew I needed a break to calm down, so I decided to take Kaylee out for a stroll. We walked outside and got maybe 100 feet from the front door and all of the sudden we were surrounded by {I kid you not} hundreds of fireflies, blinking and lighting up the dark night all around us. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen or experienced before. In that moment, it felt like God was communicating directly to me, saying, “Julianne, I AM,” echoing the text from Exodus 3. I just stood there, still and speechless, my eyes welling up with tears. And then, just as quickly as the fireflies appeared, they were gone in a literal flash.

In that moment, my spirit was calmed and encouraged. My soul was settled. And here’s the thing: I can explain it to you. It turns out, after some minor research, I discovered they were most likely synchronous fireflies, who congregate together at different points in the month of June as part of their mating process. So technically, that’s what I saw.

But what I witnessed? What I witnessed and experienced was so far beyond what I can explain. It was an encounter that felt mysterious and holy, a reminder of my connection with the Living God. And that’s what I choose to remember and hold onto—the wonder of it all.

Sadly for most of us, we know that moments like that are usually few and far between. But what if they could be more frequent? What if God is working in mysterious ways more often than we realize, all throughout our days? Will we choose to notice? To pay attention? To experience rather than explain?

When was the last time curiosity gave you chills? When was the last time wonder took your breath away? When was the last time you experienced something so deeply moving you couldn’t find the words to articulate it? The last time you knew the kind of mystery that isn’t manufactured?

As David Benner reminds us, again from his book Soulful Spirituality,

“The person who knows wonder is the person whose soul is deepening and whose spirit is expanding. Wonder enlarges us and draws us out of our self-preoccupation. It attunes us to the sacramental majesty of the world. It softens the ego and creates space within us for awe, surprise, and reverence in the face of the mystery of what is.”

So today, remember to welcome the wonder and to embrace the mysterious movement of God. May we learn to hold both the explanation and the experience. May we be formed by the parts of faith we can’t figure out as we continue to become the people God is calling us to be.