The Lord said to Job] “Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it? The earth takes shape like clay under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment. The wicked are denied their light, and their upraised arm is broken [Job 38:12-15].

I was having coffee with my friend Jack this morning, and he told me about taking a cruise through the Alaskan fjords.  One day he was up early and taking in the awe-inspiring view of mountains beginning to stand out in the early morning sun—like folds of a garment.  While he was taking in the beauty of it all, he overheard a conversation between two men nearby.  One of their comments stunned him:  “What in the world is the value of this land; you could never really do anything with it.”

One would hope that Jack’s inner thought would be common to most of us: “Thank God that mankind can’t do anything with it!”  Sometimes I think we’d all like to see God break a few upraised arms of men.

China's Three Gorges Dam

Every generation seems to have what I call a “pride of the present”: we tend to believe that our thinking is sounder and our worldview more informed than the previous one—perhaps even all previous generations.  This is especially apparent in regard to the natural world—which modern science and technology believes it has virtually mastered.  Because nature has been our easy provider, willing patient, and sometimes cadaver for so long, we have tended to lose respect for it.  And what we no longer respect, we can easily come to abuse.

I feel we modern followers of Christ have also become somewhat blind followers of technology and have adopted the same utilitarian view toward God’s good creation that we see in much of science and industry.  This utilitarian approach, however, is really the child of the humanistic “Enlightenment” and the subsequent Industrial Revolution, not of a true understanding of the theology of nature.

Interestingly, two of the most significant Reformers, John Calvin and Martin Luther, had been quite successful in framing a sound biblical theology of nature in the 16th century that corrected the faulty dualistic theology of the Middle Ages that saw the material world as something low and degraded that needed to be escaped from (a view that goes all the way back to Plato and is also foundational to Eastern religions).  Their followers eventually became the champions of the “Protestant work ethic” that in part led to the Industrial Revolution and the ultimate devaluation of the creation that Calvin and Luther had helped to free from mysticism and dualism.  See the Wikipedia article about it here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Protestant_work_ethic

Calvin and Luther both had a high view of the natural world that I think we need to recapture.  I firmly believe we need to trade our pride of the present for humility and an understanding that other generations before us may have had a more biblically sound view of the creation than we do.  I go into depth on that issue in the article “Listening To the Right Voices,” which you can get to by going to the “Articles” button at the top of the page.

To whet your appetite on rethinking how Christians ought to consider the creation, let me drop in a couple quotes on this post that you can also find on this Website under “Creation Quotations”:

From Luther:
“Now if I believe in God’s Son and bear in mind that He became man, all creatures will appear a hundred times more beautiful to me than before.  Then I will properly appreciate the sun, the moon, the stars, trees, apples, pears, as I reflect that he is Lord over and the center of all things.”

From Calvin:

“In every part of the world, in heaven and on earth, he has written and as it were engraven the glory of his power, goodness and eternity…. For all creatures, from the firmament even to the center of the earth, could be witnesses and messengers of his glory to all men, drawing them on to seek him and, having found him, to do him service and honor according to the dignity of a Lord so good, so potent, so wise and everlasting….For the little singing birds sang of God, the animals acclaimed Him, the elements feared and the mountains resounded with Him, the river and springs threw glances toward Him, the grasses and the flowers smiled.”

Because of our generational pride and our loss of sensitivity to the natural world I wonder often if we can ever regain the biblical perspective these influential reformers understood.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies (Romans 8:22-23).

There is one doleful aspect to the generally delightful start of spring here in Michigan.  It comes with the melting of the snow: Car-slain deer carcasses not long ago hidden beneath shrouds of white are thrusting up their broken ribs as flags for carrion-hungry crows, ravens, and vultures.  Added to this are the scattered bodies of raccoons, opossum, skunks, and other creatures that have never gained understanding, as have the crows and ravens, of the physics of speeding automobiles.

My old orchard is brown and gray with here and there a few bright spots of brilliant red provided by clusters of high bush cranberries shriveled and ready to be pushed off their stems by the pressure of sap called up from the roots by increased sunlight and warmth.

Because of the normal early spring drabness of the orchard, my eyes were captured one March day last year by a spot of shocking yellow.  I thought another bit of litter must have been blown into this little patch of wild that I treasure; so I walked over to remove the offense—and was blessed to discover what I had not seen there before: a cluster of crocuses. They looked like a tiny chunk of sun fallen through the clouds to remind me of the glory of rebirth soon to fill this spot.

As the first blooms of spring, crocuses are hope flowers.  They symbolize that wonderful passage from Romans 8.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.  In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:18-28).

I highlighted two important recurring words in this passage: hope and groan.  This is the wonder of the “whole Gospel.”  Nature groans in its present circumstances—groaning often caused both accidentally and deliberately by mankind.  We groan too—in pain and in the realization that until Jesus returns, we will suffer unto death.  And the Holy Spirit groans.

Understandable isn’t it.  What we know from the second verse in the Bible is that the Spirit is the One who oversees and provides life.  Life is the Spirit’s everlasting work.  Yet on this earth now, the Spirit also hovers over death in all its forms.  So the Spirit groans with and for us in our pain and our dying.  And I believe the Spirit groans with the suffering of creation—suffering set before our own eyes almost daily in the form of crushed roadkill.

Yet within this cheerless setting is the bright Sonlight of hope: the wonderful realization that the pain of nature is not meaningless pain. 

Creation’s pain is pregnant pain! At its completion comes both birth and rebirth.

So for the present follower of Christ and all who will come to know Him in the future, there is not one day that will not have a crocus of hope in it.  Our suffering will cease, not only with our soul’s eventual flight to the arms of Jesus, but also when our souls are reunited with our new incorruptible bodies and we again experience wonderful material life from the Spirit and share it in inexpressible joy with the reborn, refreshed, renewed creation that now groans—yet groans always in hope. (1 Corinthians 15:35-49)

[Snowy crocus photo source: by longwayround]

Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land (Song 2:11-12 KJV).

I was reared on the King James Version of the Scofield Reference Bible, and as a kid this passage from the Song of Solomon always filled me with awe and curiosity: I knew Michigan turtles and their habits well, and the only noise I ever heard from a turtle was the splash they made when I made dashes to snatch them from their sunny resting  spots.  So to discover that in Bible times turtles actually sang to welcome spring was a wonder to me.

Then, lo, the later translations came along and spoiled my treasured misconception:

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.

"The Turtle Dove"

So the KJV translators had meant turtle dove,  not turtle.

Nonetheless, at this time of the year when bird life is singing a sayonara serenade to winter, I still like to think of  singing turtles rejoicing in expectation of the arrival of spring.

I love the changing of the seasons.  In a world of constant change—politics, economics, employment figures, cultural shifts, computer hardware and software upgrades, ever-smarter cell phones—I HAVE to go outdoors.  My point-seven-two walk to and from work provides me at least a small daily dose of staying in touch with what is unchanging.  While change does happen in the natural world—especially in the north where all four seasons are dramatically different from each other—this change is expected, regular, normal, and older than humanity.  My soul craves such orderly constancy—constancy that has absolutely nothing to do with me.

Skunk cabbages, trillium, and jacks-in-the-pulpit unfold in that order at the marsh verges after the winter thaw every year.  Crows steal songbird eggs, gang up, and harass owls and hawks every year.  Newly arrived song sparrows sit on bush tops and celebrate life and procreation every nesting season. Robins, cedar waxwings, and starlings compete for old crabapples every spring.  Cicadas brreeee and katydids skritch every waning summer.  Sugar maples and sumacs flame every fall.  Snow turns my landscape drabness to light every winter.  Year after year after year.

And all of this occurs regardless of what happens on Wall Street, who is in the White House, when broadcast TV is going digital, who has been born and who has died, whether or not Osama bin Laden still survives, or whether or not I choose to have my molars crowned or pulled.

In the natural world, if I and my neighbors have not messed it up too badly, I can forget the vicissitudes of my life, and find both confidence and hope in the constancy of earth’s life as promised long ago by our Creator:

As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease (Genesis 8:22).

I, you, and our children need to deliberately spend time outdoors if for no other reason, as Henry David Thoreau said, than to “not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito’s wing that falls on the rails.”  Blessed constancy from the hand and plan of God gives my soul a sunny resting spot.

[Source of girl and turtle dove painting: The Turtle Dove by Sophie Gengembre Anderson.]
[Source of sunning turtles: by OldOnliner]

The angel of the LORD moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left. When the donkey saw the angel of the LORD, she lay down under Balaam, and he was angry and beat her with his staff.  Then the LORD opened the donkey’s mouth, and she said to Balaam, “What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?”  Balaam answered the donkey, “You have made a fool of me! If I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now. “The donkey said to Balaam, “Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?”  ”No,” he said.  Then the LORD opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown. (Numbers 22:26-31)

It seems to me that when we consider the proper treatment of animals we should speak of man’s responsibilities as steward rather than to speak of the rights of animals.  It’s far easier for me to ignore the rights of others than it is to ignore my personal conviction that I have God-given responsibilities toward others. Since the Bible does not really mention rights in regard to animals, I feel it’s much more important for us to consider what the Bible means when it says we are to tend the Garden.  The animals, like the remainder of the Creation, belong to God; and it is a major responsibility for me to do with them what is right in God’s eyes.

a PETA logo

Many non-Christian animal-rights activists react strongly against the biblical idea that man has a superior position in respect to the animals—thinking that such a belief leads to human arrogance and to our frequent ill treatment of the other creatures who share this earth with us. (See the Wikipedia article on PETA) But like so many other truths, it is not the belief that’s the problem; it’s what we do with that belief.    While Christianity does not con­done groundless sentimentality and the granting of personhood to animals, it does speak consistently of man’s responsibilities regarding them.  Animals are creatures of God under the care of God’s stewards—mankind .  For us to treat them as nothing or to treat them cruelly is clearly wrong.

In reality, humanity’s position of superiority should humble us; because for all our superiority, we are the ones who have sinned and continue to sin—not the animals.  It is human sin that has created the havoc in the world that the animals must occupy (Romans 8:18-21).  Thus superiority has, in sin, shown its potential to be a curse.  Only in humble confession and submission before a holy God can we truly carry out the task of stewardship—the primary responsibility that goes hand-in-hand with our endowment of authority in the created order.  As in all other relationships, prideful superiority has no place in man’s relationship to the world of animals.

I like what Francis Schaeffer said about this matter in his book Pollution and the Death of Man: The Christian View of Ecology:

We should treat each thing with integrity because this is the way God made it. . . .  The value of the things is not in themselves autonomously, but that God made them, and thus they deserve to be treated with high respect. . . .  God treats His creation with integrity: each thing in its own order, each thing the way He made it.  If God treats His creation in that way, should we not treat our fellow-creature with similar integrity?  If God treats a tree like a tree, a machine like a machine, the man like a man, shouldn’t I, as a fellow-creature do the same—treating each thing in integrity in its own order?  And for the highest reason: because I love God.  I love the One who has made it!  Loving the Lover who has made it, I have respect for the thing He has made. (pp. 54-57)

Think about Balaam in the Bible (Numbers 22).  That rebel prophet was considering disobeying God in order to obtain wealth, and on his way to hear the lucrative offer, the donkey he was riding saw an angel standing in the way with a sword in hand.  The prophet, who was thinking so much about financial profit, failed to see the messenger of God.  His mount refused to move, and when Balaam beat it, the beast spoke up and complained about its treatment (“What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?” vs. 28).  The comical part of this story is that instead of falling off the donkey in surprise at the miracle of an animal that speaks, Balaam started to carry on a conversation with it!  This amazing circumstance finally shocked the prophet into hearing God and seeing the angel.  Then the angel spoke: “I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me.”

Considering how so many of God’s non-human creatures often fare at the hands of people bent primarily on monetary gain, I feel that if animals could speak today, they would ask the same thing Balaam’s donkey asked, “What have I done to you [that you should treat us like this]?”  Perhaps we need some similar shock for us to see that much of our reckless treatment of animals may eventually lead to God’s opposition to us—which, as Balaam discovered,  is not an enviable position.

Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise Him in the heights! Praise Him, all His angels; praise Him, all His hosts! Praise Him, sun and moon; praise Him, all you stars of light! Praise Him, you heavens of heavens, and you waters above the heavens! Let them praise the name of the Lord, for He commanded and they were created. He also established them forever and ever; He made a decree which shall not pass away. Praise the Lord from the earth, you great sea creatures and all the depths; fire and hail, snow and clouds; stormy wind, fulfilling His word; mountains and all hills; fruitful trees and all cedars; beasts and all cattle; creeping things and flying fowl; kings of the earth and all peoples; princes and all judges of the earth; both young men and maidens; old men and children. Let them praise the name of the Lord, for His name alone is exalted; His glory is above the earth and heaven (Psalm 148:1-13).

Randy Trudeau

Few people fail to be touched by a stunning photo of natural beauty or a gripping verbal description of natural events.  But that is not enough for our souls.  To truly grasp creation’s meaning, one must experience it. The wild highlights our finiteness, vulnerability, and our utter and complete dependence upon the creating and sustaining power of God.

John Calvin called the natural world the “theater of God’s glory,” but it is even more than a theater; it’s a cathedral.  And awareness of God’s holiness only occurs when we enter it with the right spirit.  The word “cathedral” comes from the Latin term for “chair”: cathedra.  Traditionally a cathedral is the sacred place where a church bishop has his chair of authority—his throne.  While human bishops are supposed to keep us mindful of our stewardship role in the created order, too often the trappings and traditions of man hinder our capacity to hear the “still, small voice” of God in our urban churches.

For that reason, it’s important for us to preserve and treasure the cathedral of wilderness where we see that God, the ultimate authority, is clearly on the throne and where His wordless revelation can still be clearly seen and understood (Romans 1:20).  When truly attentive people enter the wild, they immediately recognize the signs that this is holy ground—a place where to them a flaming autumn maple is no less evidence of God’s miracle-working power and presence than the burning bush was to Moses.

Also important is for us to recognize that in the wilderness sanctuary we’re not alone in the impulse to worship.  God’s other creatures worship there as well.  Yesterday, for instance, I was walking the trap line with my Odawa friend, Randy Trudeau, on Manitoulin Island in Northern Ontario.  It was one of those crystal mornings with a brilliant sun creating diamonds on every weed and tree twig.  As we walked, Randy spoke of how the Anishinaabe elders teach that the way everything grows upward tells us that all of creation worships its Creator.

Likewise, the prophets Isaiah and David remind us that all created things in their own nature respond to God—even trees, rivers, and mountains. (Isa. 55:12; Psa. 98:8)  This amazing truth from the Old Testament is echoed in the Revelation where all God’s creatures are seen as worshiping the One who died in order that the cosmos may be redeemed: “Every creature which is in heaven and on the earth and under the earth and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, I heard saying: ‘Blessing and honor and glory and power be to Him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb [Jesus Christ], forever and ever!’” (Rev. 5:13)

As Randy and I walked through a frozen marsh under a sapphire sky we stopped for a moment as I sang the doxology to the tune of Old 100th: “Praise God from whom all blessing flow; praise Him all creatures here below; praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.  Amen.” [YouTube video of this classic doxology  here]

What a joy it is to share praise of the Creator with the other creatures who have been doing in since the genesis of creation—and think that it may not be long before Revelation 5:13 is fulfilled and God’s kingdom has come and His will is done “on earth as it is in heaven.”