The battle over the Bible may soon come to a close. According to an article in National Geographic, it is possible that the creation versus evolution debate could end. Arguments involving the origin of the species and the handiwork of God may fit together after all. And it is all because archeologists believe they have found Eve. It is not that they claim to have discovered the first woman, but they think they have located the woman from whom all modern people have descended. And she lived over 200,000 years ago! That is a startling discovery to contemporary fundamentalism, which holds the Bible’s Eve lived only 6,000 years ago. And it does confirm evolutionist’s convictions that our family tree began much earlier than Biblical purists insist. Probably living in Africa or Asia, Eve would have been dark-haired and dark-skinned, roaming the hot plains in search of food. Strong and muscular, she was well-able to care for her children and defend herself against attack. And her strength was passed on from generation to generation. Her genes are found in all humans living today. She has five million relatives on earth. By rough estimate, she is our 10-thousandth great-grandmother. And yes, that does mean we are all cousins!

As a person of faith, who believes in God as creator of the heavens and the earth and all living things, it is exciting to see the words of scripture confirmed by scientific discovery. It is affirming to know that we are all part of one human family. The world and all life share a common beginning. We have all been given birth and life by the same spirit. Everyone has been formed by the hand of God. It must have been that kind of realization that caused the Psalmist to cry out: What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor. God has made us. We live because of God. It is an experience of wonder, respect and awe.

But we do not need to go back 200,000 years to feel that power of wonder and awe in our hearts. Recently a family in our congregation entertained guests from out-of-state who were convinced there wasn’t much to see in Manistee, except the Lake Michigan, and you could see that anywhere along hundreds of miles of shoreline. Driving through town, they saw many views of the lake and wove in and out of the National Forest. They saw Great Blue Heron standing in the marshes along the Little Manistee River. Looking over their shoulder, a Bald Eagle made circles in the sky, preparing to dive for prey. They turned a corner and a small herd of deer gracefully bounded off into the woods. As they continued down the road, a flock of wild turkeys lurked at the edge of the trees. The couple from Manistee took it all in silently, but they were just as amazed as their guests who gasped at the wonder and awe they found in completely unexpected places.

Emerson said, "God hides things by placing them near to us." And it was Jesus who said in the Sermon on the Mount, Look at the birds of the air… Consider the lilies of the field…. With wonder and awe, we may pause in gratitude for the blessings that are near us. Wonder and respect. They are the beginning of worship. And with wonder and respect it all began for Isaiah. In the Jerusalem temple he had a vision of the Lord, and through the smoke and incense, remembered it like this:

And so worship begins for us, whether it is singing "Holy, holy, holy" in the sanctuary or feeling the power and presence of God through the wonder of the world around us or in quiet moments alone. Wonder and respect. They are the point at which worship begins.

It has been twenty years since I finished seminary and began my ministry. During college, I worked as a student assistant in the congregation down the street from the campus. It was a fun, comfortable, safe, wonderful time. I was challenged, and inspired to meet the challenges before me. After beginning seminary on the east coast, I served a traditional New England congregation as student assistant. But the church was in conflict, and the direction I needed would not be found in the midst of turmoil. While home on break that Christmas, with prayer and a lot of discussion, I decided to try to venture out on my own, and find a part-time position as a student minister. It was a moment when I clearly felt God’s presence. It was a time of wonder, respect and awe for me. Later that spring, I accepted a part-time student pastorate with a struggling congregation surrounded by the hills and lakes of north central Massachusetts. I thought all my dreams had come true. But I soon discovered that unlike my earlier student experiences, there was no minister to hide behind. And I learned the church can be a very lonely place. Living alone in a ten-room parsonage and making calls in the community during the week, I often returned to the seminary campus to be with friends. But all too soon, it would be time to go back to the loneliness of the church, preparing for worship and visiting people in the congregation. Unable to afford a full-time minister because of a building project that crippled the church’s finances, it was a startling contrast to the security and ease of my first experiences. The church’s future hung in the balance, and I felt alone while surrounded by people.

But one evening that fall, after another night of calls, the telephone rang. A voice, without any introduction said, The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows forth his handiwork. Day unto day declares speech and night unto night declares knowledge. Ministers, I had heard, often received strange phone calls, but at this point in my life, when I needed some religion, the only faith I found was from a nut! Then the voice said, "Have you seen the sky?" "No," I answered. "Where have you been?" he asked. "Alone. In the dark," I told him. "Well, get up out of the dark and go to the top of that hill behind your church," he said, "and look at the sky." And if you have ever been in New England in the fall, when the hills and valleys are ablaze with the colors of the trees, and then, see the northern lights, you will never forget the moment. The whole sky burned with the most beautiful colors and brightness I have ever seen. Flashing from the horizon, the world was bathed in red and orange and blue and purple and yellow. The dark world was no longer black, but alive with color. It was a moment of wonder, awe and respect for the powerful presence of God.

As I remember that time now, I know it taught me how small I am, in relation to the rest of the world and all creation. It does not make a lot of difference whether I succeed or fail. We do not make a large impact on the events of the world. But it also told me God created the world for me, and me for the world, and that all of us are important to God. And the wonder of that realization gave me a new perspective on time. Life does not need to be pressured. Our wants and ways are not always the most important. Everything must not be done right now. So much of life is beautiful and amazing and filled with awe, and none of it was achieved overnight. And we arrive at that point in life through the love and care of God. At a time of deep loneliness in my life, when I knew my dreams would not bring the hope and joy I thought, another voice in the church surprised me with an unexpected phone call, and shared a moment of hope, bringing me the love of God. He helped me see what he already saw. I was not alone. I was surrounded by many others. And we were all surrounded by God.

From that time on, life began to change a little. I had a new sense of wonder and awe. I grew as a minister, and we grew as a church. It, too, was a wonderful time. A time of wonder. It is what Rabbi Abraham Heschel meant when he said, "As civilization advances, the sense of wonder declines… humankind will not perish for want of information, but only for want of appreciation… awareness of the divine begins with wonder."

Look at the birds of the air… consider the lilies of the field… and hold some things up so high that they can never be brought down. I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty… Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.

Indeed, it is. And it fills you, too. Amen.