Summertime is often the season for vacations and traveling to exotic locations. In that same spirit, my husband Brent and I boarded a cruise ship and sailed to Alaska this month. It was all that we had hoped for—whale sightings, cooler temperatures, and quality time for just the two of us. (A fellow guest we met on the cruise referred to us as “the lovebirds.” I was totally fine with his assessment of our situation.)

Our second day on the ship was a Sunday, so we decided to join 30 or so other believers for a church service in one of the meeting rooms. After sitting and chatting quietly for a few minutes as we waited for the service to begin, a woman sitting at a piano near the back of the room finally spoke up. “It doesn’t look like the person who was supposed to lead us is coming,” she said. “I’m a worship pastor at my church, so I’d be happy to read a passage and lead a few songs.” Everyone agreed with her plan, so she read from the Sermon on the Mount—reminding us not to be anxious—and accompanied us with the chords for 4 or 5 worship songs. Those of us in the room held various postures of worship—standing or sitting, hands raised or clasped in our laps—as we sang songs we recognized from Christian radio.

Next, a lanky older man stood and asked permission to share his testimony. Again, we all agreed with his request, then we listened to his story of a baby son born more than 50 years ago who died as a toddler. He shared how this defining moment shaped his faith and prayer life. Then another man told us how we could all be a light for Jesus while we were on the ship, and a third man closed the brief service with a prayer.

Brent and I were both moved by the simplicity of our shared experience. We walked away from that uplifting half hour with an appreciation for finding common ground with other believers. There was no discussion of denominations or song service preferences or leadership roles. It was just a gathering of people who love Jesus and know the benefit of time spent praising Him.

I was reminded of the camaraderie of that church service later in the week when we were with a different group of shipmates on an excursion to see a glacier. While on a smaller ship slicing through an icy fjord, we saw several whales shooting water into the sky to reveal their location before we saw their bodies and eventually their giant tails slapping the water. Each time the whales surfaced, everyone lucky enough to see them would cry out simultaneously with an “Oh!” It was as if we were one soul, instead of a group of strangers.

One of the themes of the trip for me was the word awesome. I definitely overuse this word, but there are times and places where it is the most fitting description of an experience, and this was one of those times. For example, I was in awe as I tried to comprehend the scale of those blue glaciers cutting paths through giant mountains.

In his book Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis gave us a location for those moments alone in nature or in shared times of worship or some other place where we experience wonder. He called it the “region of awe.” He wrote, “For I thus understood that in deepest solitude there is a road right out of the self.” I don’t know that in my fallible, self-centered humanity I could live every moment in the region of awe, but I will try to be open to it and ask God to reveal it to me even when I’m not on vacation.