Free Press writer Julie Hinds coined a phrase in trying to answer the question: “Why is reality TV so popular?” Why do civilized human beings enjoy watching other supposedly-civilized human beings: 

• eat worms

• writhe in a bed of dead fish

• swap moms

• throw themselves at a self-centered bachelor or bachelorette

• and in a hundred and one ways, make fools of themselves?

Hinds says the answer lies in what she calls the “ick factor…the strange yet effective tool that lures audiences to the maggot-eating competitions on Fear Factor and the crazy police chases on Fox.” She defined the “ick factor” (as in “icky”) as the allure and intrigue of watching something “offensive to the senses,” which pretty much sums up most of reality TV. (Detroit Free Press, Nov. 20, 2002) 

The “ick factor.” The phrase caught my eye. Is that what really catches our attention, attracts our adoration, appeals to our fascination? I’d like to suggest an alternative to the “ick factor.” Let’s call it the “awe factor.” 

• To live life with a sense of awe, wonder, amazement.

• To sing the song of an “awe-filled life.”

That’s the stance of the Psalmist and the reoccurring melody of the Book of Psalms. In these weeks, I hope you will read through this incredible poetry, the powerful imagery and the glorious music of the Psalms. The songster touches on the depths of human sorrow. He cries out in anger and agony over grief and guilt, pain and loss. He acknowledges his own sin and doubt, his failure to be faithful, and his own struggle with God. But underneath, the worship of the God beyond his grasp, the creator behind the cosmos, brings him back from the brink of despair to the song of joy and hope. Through it all you can hear the constant refrain of adoration, a sense of wonder in the presence of God …the “awe factor.” 

John Wesley altered an older hymn by Isaac Watts and included it in his first hymnal. It no longer appears in the Methodist hymnal, and probably for good reason. It says:

Before Jehovah’s awful throne,
Ye nations bow with sacred joy.
Know that the Lord is God alone,
He can create, and he destroy. 

When we hear the word “awful” we think “dreadful,” “scary” or even “icky.” But for Watts and Wesley, the word meant “awe-filled, awesome.” 

 It’s the “awe factor,” and frankly, it’s what missing from most of our lives.  

Oh, yes, we use the word “awesome.” We over-use it, in fact, until it has come to have no meaning at all. Though we use the word, we know little of the reality of the experience of genuine “awe”—wonder, reverence, amazement. 

John Henry Jowett, great British preacher of the late 19^th and early 20^th century, knew nothing of our current worship, often marked by dull liturgy on one hand or fluffy choruses on the other, but he could have been speaking for our times: 

We leave our places of worship and no deep and inexpressible wonder rests on our faces. We can sing these lilting melodies and when we get back out on the streets, our faces are one with the faces of those who have left the theaters and music halls. There is nothing about us to suggest we have been looking at anything stupendous and overwhelming. That is the element we are losing.

(Paul Rees, Stand Up in Praise to God, page 7) 

By contrast, the Psalmist sings the song of the awe-filled life: 

I give thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart;
        Before the gods I sing thy praise;  
I bow down toward thy holy temple and give thanks to thy name for
        thy steadfast love and thy faithfulness;
For thou hast exalted above everything thy name and thy word.  

1.   THE SONG OF AN AWE-FILLED LIFE IS A SONG OF GRATITUDE FOR THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

Eugene Peterson’s recent translation of the Bible called The Message has become quite popular lately. I wouldn’t recommend it for accuracy, but it does catch the spirit of the text in our common language. Listen to his version of this Psalm: 

Thank you! Everything in me says, “Thank you!”

Thank you for your love. Thank you for your faithfulness.

I kneel in worship facing your holy temple and say it again —

      thank you.

(Eugene Peterson, The Message, Psalm 138, page 476)

When we are captured by the “awe factor,” the only appropriate response is gratitude, thanksgiving, and praise. 

I have lots of friends who think they can improve my preaching by passing on e-mail insights and humor. I don’t know the original source so I can’t vouch for the percentages, but the truth of the message is still there: 

If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of this world.

If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture or the pangs of starvation, you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.

 

If you can read this message, you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world who cannot read at all.

 

If you hold up your head with a smile on your face and are truly thankful, you are blessed because the majority of people can, but most do not.

To live life under the influence of the “awe factor” is to live in gratitude and wonder, singing the song of thanks and praise. 

Yet so often we are so easily tempted to complain, even in the light of the blessings we enjoy. Even when we experience God’s goodness, it seems it’s not enough. Michael O’Bannon, my pastor in Nashville, tells the story of a small boy who was playing in the waves along a seashore; he was caught by the undertow and dragged out to sea. His screaming mother attracted the lifeguard instantly, and he was rescued and returned to her waiting arms. She looked up to heaven and said, “Oh, thank God, thank God,” then took a second look at her son and in frustration said, “...but he had a hat!” (Michael O’Bannon, Belle Meade UMC, “He Had a Hat,” Nov. 24, 1996) 

By contrast, there is the great hymn “Now Thank We All Our God.” We usually sing it at Thanksgiving, but it’s a good “summer song,” as well. It was written by Martin Rinkert in 1663. He was a pastor during one of the worst eras in European history—the Thirty Years’ War and the great plague of 1637, which resulted in the death of millions, including all of his immediate family. In spite of his own frail health, he personally buried over 5,000 people, including his wife. Yet, having come through the valley of sorrow, he could still sing: 

Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things hath done, in whom this world rejoices;

Who from our mothers’ arms hath blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

                                           (Companion to the Methodist Hymnal, page 651) 

That’s gratitude—to be able to sing God’s praises even in the darkest hours; to sing the song of an awe-filled life, a song of gratitude for the goodness of God. 

I give thanks to thy name for thy steadfast love and thy faithfulness;
I give thee thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart. 

2.   THE SONG OF AN AWE-FILLED LIFE IS A SONG OF CONFIDENCE IN THE STEADFAST LOVE OF GOD. 

Now there’s a word we seldom use—“steadfast”—but it is one of the Psalmist’s favorite words: 

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou doest preserve my life;

Thou dost stretch out thy hand against the wrath of my enemies

      and thy right hand delivers me

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;

Thy steadfast love, O Lord, endures for ever.

Rinkert’s hymn expresses that same incredible confidence in the face of incalculable loss: 

O may this bounteous God through all our life be near us,
With ever joyful hearts and blessed peace to cheer us;
And keep us in his grace, and guide us when perplexed;
And free us from all ills, in this world and the next.

To live with a sense of awe is to know the confidence that comes from an awareness of an eternal God, a bounteous God, whose grace underlies all of life, a God whose steadfast love endures forever.

Sure enough, we live in a day of uncertainty: 

• Uncertainty about the meaning of our current war and its mounting death toll.

• Uncertainty about a shaky economy and its impact on Michigan.

• Uncertainty in the face of our own personal doubts and struggles.

Unfortunately, in addition to genuine uncertainty, there is also a lot of “fear mongering” going on—playing on fear for the sake of political gain.  

However, the disciples of Jesus Christ live not just in the light of world events, we also live in the light of eternity. We live not just under the threat of terrorism, but under the promise of a Savior who says: “I will never leave you or forsake you. Lo, I am with you to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) 

We live in the same confidence as St. Paul, who boldly declares: 

Nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of Christ. Neither tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword. No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.