Why Awe is Central to Transformation

I once heard someone describe awe as “a crack in the sidewalk of the soul.” A moment where the ordinary splits open and you catch a glimpse of the eternal. And once you’ve seen it — truly seen it — you’re never quite the same.

As church leaders and worship planners, we talk a lot about change. We long to see people healed, revived, set free, and sent out. We design moments. We write songs. We prepare sermons. All with the hope that hearts will soften, lives will shift, and something of heaven will break into our Tuesday mornings.

But transformation — true, deep, lasting transformation — doesn’t come from information alone. It doesn’t come from pressure or guilt or polished programming.

It comes from awe.

Not just the emotional high of a powerful song or a moving service. But that soul-shaking wonder that arises when we encounter the holiness, beauty, and vastness of God.

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The Pattern of Scripture

All throughout Scripture, transformation follows a pattern: revelation, then response.

Think of Isaiah in the temple. He sees the Lord, high and lifted up, and it undoes him. “Woe to me! I am ruined!” he cries (Isaiah 6:5). It’s only after this moment of awe that God sends him: “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” (v. 8).

Moses hides his face at the burning bush before stepping into his calling. The disciples fall at Jesus’ feet after the miraculous catch. Saul is blinded on the road to Damascus before becoming Paul.

Over and over, we see it: God reveals His glory, His holiness, His sheer other-ness — and the human heart is humbled, softened, and changed.

Awe doesn’t just inspire us. It reorients us.

It places God in His rightful place — and us in ours.

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Awe in the Everyday

Of course, most of us aren’t getting knocked off donkeys or witnessing angelic visions on the regular.

But awe can still find us — if we’re paying attention.

Sometimes it’s in the quiet of communion. Sometimes it’s watching someone forgive the unforgivable. Sometimes it’s standing under a night sky so wide it makes you feel small in the best possible way.

Awe cracks us open. It softens the soul’s soil so the Spirit can plant something real.

And as ministry leaders, we’re not in charge of manufacturing awe — but we can cultivate conditions for it. We can slow down. Strip back. Tell stories that stir wonder. Preach not just what God does, but who God is.

Because when people see Him clearly — even just for a moment — they’ll never want to look away.

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Awe is Not a Luxury

Sometimes awe can feel like a luxury in ministry. We’re running on empty. We’re chasing deadlines. We’re trying to hold the tension of real-life pain and real-deep hope.

But if awe feels far away, that’s often the signal we need it most.

Because awe recentres us. It reminds us that transformation isn’t something we have to engineer. It’s something we respond to.

When we’re awestruck, we pray differently. We lead differently. We see people differently. We remember that we’re not the hero of the story — just the ones pointing to the Light.

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Don’t Lose the Wonder

So here’s the invitation — for you, and for your people:

Don’t lose the wonder.

Look up more. Worship deeper. Ask God to reveal Himself again — not in the noise, but in the quiet. In the Word. In the breaking of bread. In the tears at the altar.

Because awe is not just emotional. It’s formational.

And in a world that’s starved for something real, maybe the most transformative thing we can offer is not another clever answer, but a glimpse of glory.

Because Sundays are juat the beginning...