When I think about the glory of God, I imagine the seraphim flying continuously around the throne calling to one another, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory (Isaiah 6:3). Every bit of me agrees with what they are saying, but it’s hard to put into words why I feel that way. Because...what is glory? That word feels familiar but also ambiguous.
Several years ago, I was driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway for a day hike on Black Balsam Knob. It was the first time I had been on the Parkway, and every time I turned a corner, I started to giggle.
It was so beautiful, and each view caught me off guard. Giggling was an involuntary response to the awe and wonder all around me. That’s the glory most of us can relate to—the kind that comes from watching the sun rise, or listening to the roar of the ocean, or standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. The beauty of creation reminds me how small I am compared to how massive it is. Yet, even creation’s vastness doesn’t come close to the awe and wonder of the One who made it.
For since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature— have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse (Romans 1:20).
God’s glory can feel familiar because we see what he made in our physical world, but the fullness of his glory can’t be defined or contained within nature or the limits of our minds.