"Day after day pours forth speech," says the psalmist of nature's
glory. "Night after night reveals his greatness."
As a boy, I grew up with a love of the countryside. One of the highlights of my very young childhood is when my parents took us toYellowstone
National Park. Closer to home were the
many drives in summer over the beloved Snowy
Range, with a picnic spread in tow, stopping at Lake Marie to take in the unforgettable silence of the glasslike water and majestic view of the sheered granite mountain bordering the wet side with crevasses of snow lingering the entire summer. Gary, sweeping fresh mown harvest to the stack Elk Mountain
from the top a hay stack or the cattle drive down to the lower pastures from Sheep Mountain
Early May, I drove fromFlorida to North Carolina
Bettyann has always loved flowers. In my early days of "serious" ministry and dedication to God, I often wondered how one could be sidetracked by such trivia; such commonalities. Yes, flowers and things pointed out were nice when a passing glance was permitted, but they were not important in my mind. They were not the real thing, the serious thing, the main show!
Perhaps it was age, or more likely a divine breakthrough, but one day I began to notice. These things were splendid; they were so unique. They had such detail, so much grandeur, and they evoked delight and joy. C.S. Lewis describes a childhood encounter with a miniature garden that his brother had made in a tin box. He describes the sense of longing, the experience of what he called joy, though fleeting, which was profound and real. Though he didn't know what to call it then, Lewis was gradually awakened to the power and role of beauty, an influence he would employ to great effect in his writings.
Similarly, John Calvin reminded the world that God has given his creatures two books: the book of nature and the word of God. For me as a Christian, they are not equal in authority or revelatory power, and yet it is a serious neglect to focus on one at the exclusion of the other.
Many that I meet on my “wonderings,” many are sincerely inspired by nature. They love long walks, visits to the various parts of this great county and absorbing the beauties of the world around. I’ve noticed they often make nature an end in itself. They celebrate its magnificence, but are left to see it all as a random outcome of chance and necessity. But, I’ve, through neglect, on occasion caught myself doing the same thing. A number of years ago, some monks in an Austrian monastery had gotten used to overlooking a particular painting that hung in their hallways. One day a visitor looked in astonishment and realized it was a Reubens, the prolific seventeenth-century Flemish Baroque painter. A connection was suddenly made between a work of art and its renowned artist. It caused a sensation, an awakening, not the least of which to its value, which was now known.
The psalmist, the Celts, and many others across the centuries learned to see God's hand in nature and to celebrate God's goodness and provision from it. I’m go to take the rest of today to look at the birds, contemplate the trees, enjoy a walk, and smell the flowers. Perhaps, just perhaps I may just experience a glimmer of God's glory!
As a boy, I grew up with a love of the countryside. One of the highlights of my very young childhood is when my parents took us to
Early May, I drove from
Bettyann has always loved flowers. In my early days of "serious" ministry and dedication to God, I often wondered how one could be sidetracked by such trivia; such commonalities. Yes, flowers and things pointed out were nice when a passing glance was permitted, but they were not important in my mind. They were not the real thing, the serious thing, the main show!
Perhaps it was age, or more likely a divine breakthrough, but one day I began to notice. These things were splendid; they were so unique. They had such detail, so much grandeur, and they evoked delight and joy. C.S. Lewis describes a childhood encounter with a miniature garden that his brother had made in a tin box. He describes the sense of longing, the experience of what he called joy, though fleeting, which was profound and real. Though he didn't know what to call it then, Lewis was gradually awakened to the power and role of beauty, an influence he would employ to great effect in his writings.
Similarly, John Calvin reminded the world that God has given his creatures two books: the book of nature and the word of God. For me as a Christian, they are not equal in authority or revelatory power, and yet it is a serious neglect to focus on one at the exclusion of the other.
Many that I meet on my “wonderings,” many are sincerely inspired by nature. They love long walks, visits to the various parts of this great county and absorbing the beauties of the world around. I’ve noticed they often make nature an end in itself. They celebrate its magnificence, but are left to see it all as a random outcome of chance and necessity. But, I’ve, through neglect, on occasion caught myself doing the same thing. A number of years ago, some monks in an Austrian monastery had gotten used to overlooking a particular painting that hung in their hallways. One day a visitor looked in astonishment and realized it was a Reubens, the prolific seventeenth-century Flemish Baroque painter. A connection was suddenly made between a work of art and its renowned artist. It caused a sensation, an awakening, not the least of which to its value, which was now known.
The psalmist, the Celts, and many others across the centuries learned to see God's hand in nature and to celebrate God's goodness and provision from it. I’m go to take the rest of today to look at the birds, contemplate the trees, enjoy a walk, and smell the flowers. Perhaps, just perhaps I may just experience a glimmer of God's glory!
No comments:
Post a Comment