I heard on the radio the other day that the average stay for a visitor at the Grand Canyon is ten minutes long. That's it. Just ten minutes. You know, look over the edge, take a few pictures, say "That shore is big!" a few times, and then get back in the car. Ten minutes.
I've never been to the Grand Canyon personally, so I can't tell you this from first-hand experience, but I would think I'd stay a bit longer than that. I don't know if I'd ride the mule down inside, but there has to be more than just ten minutes worth of awe. Then again, I realize how many times I overlook the awe that is all around me.
We had a blizzard yesterday, so today it's easy to see the awe-someness in great drifts of snow, arrayed in all kinds of geometric patterns. It's amazing to see bare ground in one place next to a drift more than five feet high. It's kind of our own miniature Not-So-Grand Canyon in the backyard. But in another couple of weeks, when the snow has melted and the ground is all muddy, I doubt I'll consider the backyard nearly so awesome.
I want to consider God as awesome even in the not-so-awesome times. He is no less incredible than He was when he created the conditions for the Grand Canyon to be dug, than He was is an otherwise-lackluster August day. He is no less incredible during the mundane, reptitious workday than He is at the birth of a baby or the healing of a sick man.
God is worth more than ten minutes.