Awe holds both wonder and weight. It confronts us with something greater than ourselves—something both beautiful and unsettling.
Awfully.
Awe full.
We don’t usually put those words together.
We separate them.
“Awe” becomes something light—
inspiring, beautiful, uplifting.
“Awful” becomes something we avoid—
heavy, unsettling, difficult.
But at their root, they are closer than we think.
Awe is not just pleasant.
It is overwhelming.
It is the experience of encountering something greater than yourself—
something that cannot be reduced, explained, or controlled.
And that kind of encounter is not always comfortable.
It can feel disorienting.
It can feel exposing.
It can feel… awful.
Because real awe confronts us with our limits.
It reminds us that we are not the center.
That we are not in control.
That there is something—Someone—greater.
And yet, this is where faith begins.
Not in certainty.
Not in control.
But in awe.
The kind of awe that holds both wonder and weight.
The kind that draws us in
and unsettles us at the same time.
The kind that does not let us stay the same.
In a world that tries to explain everything,
optimize everything,
and reduce everything to what we can manage—
Awe resists.
It interrupts.
It invites us to stand still,
to pay attention,
to receive rather than control.
And in that moment—
something shifts.
Because faith does not begin with answers.
It begins with awe.
Awfully awe full.
CTA:
→ When was the last time you experienced awe—and didn’t rush past it?
