Call to Wonder

Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”

The Message translates that verse as: “If people can’t see what God is doing, they stumble all over themselves; but when they attend to what He reveals, they are most blessed.”

So, fellow wayfarers… what could this mean for you and me?  Right here?  Day by day?

Poet Mary Oliver once asked the question, “Is curiosity a precursor for joy?” As I reflected on that thought and read others’ opinions, I came up with a resounding “yes!”

The Power of Curiosity

Curiosity requires attention to what is around us in the moment. We’re focused because we don’t want to miss anything!

I see this often in my 10-year-old daughter. She’ll sit across the room—pretending to play with her Barbies—while actively listening to the adult conversations around her. Why? Because she’s curious! She doesn’t want to miss out on anything she deems good!

When our curiosity is high, our hearts are open, and we’re intentionally present. That leads us to details we would have missed otherwise. We notice the small attributes of the world around us. And that leads to wonder.

Wonder at how God put it all together. 

Have you ever stopped to watch a squirrel spring from patch to patch through the backyard grass and wondered what its mission was in the moment?

Or looked up and heard the call of a bird and pondered what message it was proclaiming?

Or simply noticed a flower growing toward the light and questioned how it knows to reach upward — to seek the light itself?

Curiosity leads to wonder, and wonder points to the Creator.

And filled with this newfound wonder, we view the world around us (including our doleful life) through a different lens — often a lens of dōlightful joy.

But not the kind of joy, slapped on like a spiritual sticker just because we’re “supposed” to be joyful in all things.  Nah! This is true joy — because we’re seeing different meaning, different beauty, and different purpose in this life.

The Practice of Noticing

Let’s imagine a world where we dared to be curious. Where we made the pointed practice of slowing down, noticing what’s around us, asking questions, and discovering the newness behind wonder.

And maybe the product of that curiosity becomes… heartfelt JOY! Just maybe.

Mary Oliver’s poem The Summer Day closes with the question: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

The Tension of Dreams

Are you like me? Do you dread those “Who are you?” and “Where are you going?” inquiries?

Everything is so tentative in my world. Plans are made but expected to be canceled. Goals are set but with low expectations of completion. Not because I lack willpower or desire—but because my physical body will inevitably fail me.

Yet, we must dream! We must find the vision. We must look for where God is moving and join Him in the action.

Our dreams might look oh so different post-BlinkBeat^©. But chronic illness doesn’t have to rob us of living hope. Our dreams matter. Because we matter. Even when walking in the never-ending valleys, we have value. And we can make a difference. We must not let the healthy world underestimate our potential or the value of our dreams and desires.

Maybe the key is asking God where He’s working and how we can join Him in that work… from our recliner, our bed, or even a treatment room.

Go ahead — dream the impossible.  But do it with your Creator. After all, it is in God’s beautiful mercy and love that He engages with us and plants those dreams deep in our hearts.

Lay the Stake Down with Me

What if we planted a spiritual stake together, believing to see God’s goodness on this earth? Not total healing. Maybe not even partial healing. Maybe even more physical suffering.

But within the bounds of that pain… seeing the steady goodness of God.

For most of us, we are confident that we will see His goodness in heaven. Everything will be filled with His joy, His redemption of pain, and His love! Our eternal physical healing is secured. We look forward with eager hope to that day.

But where the struggle slaps us in the face is believing to see His goodness now—in the daily struggle of life.

The Gift of a Slower Lens

So, my dearest chronic grievers, I invite you to join me in intentional curiosity.  Chronic illness and grief automatically take us off the fast-moving train of life… and dumps us on the platform to watch the action in a haze around us.

There are a few pros to sorrow and pain, but the opportunity to see life through a slower lens might be one of them.

Held in the Stillness

I’m currently fighting for air yet again. My red blood cells are struggling to pick up and deliver oxygen to my body’s tissue and organs. My body screams for more, as I fight air hunger.

If my coughing becomes too intense, carbon dioxide builds in my bloodstream, because I’m unable to expel the toxin.

So I sit quietly. Move gently. Inhale shallowly.

Medical equipment is always at my side. A BiPAP often helps this tender air exchange process — keeping oxygen high and carbon dioxide low. A volley of liquid medications is broken into tiny droplets via a nebulizer and travels into my lower alveoli, reducing inflammation and opening the airways to receive steroids directly.

For a week now, my already slow lifestyle has stalled. Yet in my frustration, my curiosity has inspired me forward.

Curiosity Awakens

I’m still wondering about the Forest of Uncertainty, with many paths yet to explore. My curiosity in my God has grown, and my insatiable quest to know Him more pushes me forward.

So in this moment of extra stillness, I’ve been able to finish audiobooks and fill my heart with Scripture. I’ve been able to talk to the Lord and throw it all before His throne.

As Chris Rice sings in his song Big Enough:

“God if You care, then I need You to know me.

I hope You don’t mind me askin’ the questions.

But I figure You’re big enough.”

The Invitation to Explore

Are you at a time in life when despair feels like it has overtaken curiosity? Curiosity requires that we slow down to ask the unasked. What might we explore? Where will it lead?

Maybe the start of a new adventure with our Creator? Possibly even a spark of life where grief has reigned for so long?

Oh, my fellow wayfarers, will you consider putting down the spiritual stake with me? Will you consider the absence of hope as an invitation to explore?

Maybe… just maybe… the start of hope is indeed curiosity.

Without a vision, we die.

So find your vision again — and live. Really live.

Live a dōlightful life, curiously seeking out the goodness of our God in every breath.