In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made (John 1:1-3).

[Jesus Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together (Colossians 1:15-17).

In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. After he had provided purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven (Hebrews 1:1-3).

Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite NP

One of my favorite old hymns of the church is “Fairest Lord Jesus,” in part because it was the first piece of choral music I sang in high school choir—in a secular high school! Miss Van Alsberg would probably be fired if she did that today in most secular schools. But the song came to mind afresh yesterday when I heard it on Christian radio on my way up the hill from Palm Desert to Joshua Tree NP. The lyrics of its first verse grabbed my attention because of my Wednesday post on who Jesus is to our young people today. They will be familiar to many:

Fairest Lord Jesus, ruler of all nature,
O thou of God and man the Son,
Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor,
Thou, my soul’s glory, joy, and crown.

Yosemite woodland

The remainder of the lyrics speak of Jesus being fairer than the meadows and the woodlands in their spring attire and brighter and purer than the sunlight, moonlight, and starlight. This, of course, restates a key Christian doctrine: that the Creator is greater than His creation and is wholly separate from His creation. Most Christians understand and believe this.

Because I was a nature lover from my earliest days, I liked all the references to the natural world in the hymn.  However, even as a high school student I did not fully grasp the meaning of Jesus being the “ruler of all nature.” If I had stopped to think—or a pastor had made it clear when I was young—that there is a connection between the Jesus who loved and welcomed children two thousand years ago and the Jesus who is supernaturally acting today to sustain the creation and Who will one day redeem it, I think I would have had a lot more love and respect for the natural world much earlier. 

Merced River, Yosemite

That’s one key reason I feel that what we seek to accomplish with this Website is of vital importance to the church today. Maybe, in fact, some of you reading this are pastors or you are in a position to suggest to your pastor that sometime around Earth Day (April 22) a sermon or two on the implication of the passages above might be appropriate. Only in one of the churches I have attended have I ever heard sermons on Jesus as the “ruler of all nature” and what that might mean in our relationship to the natural world.

I’d be willing to wager that such a sermon or two would resonate with children and young adults. It’s a message they need to hear. And an important question comes out of this consideration: If Jesus is sustainer and ruler of all nature, how might we be working against Him?

The Wonder of Creation mission:

To showcase the wonder of Creation, to encourage trust in the wisdom and power of our Creator, and to inspire a desire to care for the natural world that He has entrusted to us.

[Yosemite photos by Daleberts from Flickr]

What may be known about God is plain to [men], because God has made it plain to them. 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 men are without excuse (Romans 1:190-20)

I keep returning to this passage because of its huge significance to the meaning of the creation, which in theological circles is known as the “general revelation”—or God’s other book.  This is the “book” that all people can “read” and in which all people with an open mind and heart can detect two important things: Their Creator’s “eternal power” and “divine nature.”  I have written in depth on this in other papers and on other Websites.

One of my continuing “projects” has been to list what it is in the natural world that will show us that God’s awesome power is eternal and that what we take in with our five senses will compel us to worship (the result of grasping that only one who is “divine”—God—could have made all this).  At the end of this post is a partial list of the creation’s attributes that I have collected.

Yesterday a new attribute came to mind: “inspirational patterns and textures.”  This attribute was dramatically revealed on a visit to a  wild desert oasis near Palm Springs, California, where I am visiting my brother and sister-in-law.  I came here to be inspired by what this part of the world reveals in keeping with Romans 1:19-20.

The photos that I have posted here are just a sampling of the inspirational patterns and textures from just one tree: the Californian fan palm.  (Our middle son, Eric, has scars on his chest from runing into the sawtooth edge of a young fan palm when he was a child.)

I will post photos throughout the week that reveal more of the attributes listed below.  [Clicking on a photo will enlarge it.  Then click the back arrow to get back to the full post]

1.   Mysterious light and matter
(which still defy human comprehension)

2.   Seemingly endless time
(no clearly apparentbeginning or end)

3.   Seemingly endless space
(eternality seenin the microcosm and macrocosm)

4.   Astronomical extravagance and magnitude
(“Billions and billions . . .” said Sagan)

5.   Wonderful life
(inexplicable in essence and originand apparent on earth alone)

6.   Fearsome, yet essential, death
(but marvelously linked to life

7.   Profound mystery
(beyond human understanding)

8.   Unfailing orderliness
(out of seeming chaos)

9.   Unfathomable complexity
       (defying human simplification)

10. Awesome power
    (far exceeding our own)

11. Incredibly intelligent design
    (absolutelybeyond human duplication)

12. Virtually endless variety
(biodiversity)

13. Amazing adaptability
(micro-evolution)

14. Overwhelming beauty
      (touching the heart and soul)

15. Unlimited sensory stimulation
(candy for the senses)

16. Unbridgeable gap between people and the other created things
(people alone having the capacityfor creative
thinking, abstract reasoning, and symbolic
language and having innate morality
and the instinct to worship)

 

Solomon] spoke of trees, from the cedar tree of Lebanon even to the hyssop that springs out of the wall; he spoke also of animals, of birds, of creeping things, and of fish. And men of all nations, from all the kings of the earth who had heard of his wisdom, came to hear the wisdom of Solomon
(1 Ki. 4:33-34).

Because I grew up in a Christian home, attended church all my life, and have worked for Christian schools and ministries my entire career, I’ve gone on countless “retreats.” In a military sense, of course, to retreat means to back away from the enemy. This is often done to prevent defeat and capture—with the ultimate aim to strengthen and reequip your own forces so you can once again go on the offensive and hopefully be victorious.

Churches, missions, and ministries sometimes use spiritual retreats for a similar purpose—to provide temporary escape from opposing physical and spiritual forces.  Perhaps taking their cue from withdrawals into the wilderness mentioned in the Bible, some Christian ministries bring their people to attractive and remote natural areas for a retreat. The wisdom of this is evident when we consider what we’re less likely to face in such places:

• Too many voices to attend to
• Too many people to relate to
• An overload of news (information)
• An overabundance of technologies
• Extraneous noise
• The need to talk incessantly
• Constant time pressure

Most of us could benefit from lessening these manmade distractions by going on a “civilization fast.” But while there are some obvious physical benefits from this sort of retreat, this list of negatives relates primarily to the spiritual. When we’re surrounded by the many positive evidences of God’s eternal power and divine nature and are at the same time relieved of these many negatives, our souls have an opportunity to rest and to remain open to the voice and calling of God’s Holy Spirit.  Two of my most profound encounters with the Holy Spirit occurred when I was quiet and alone in the outdoors

While we tend to think of wilderness retreats as being important for adults, we often forget that children need them as well. I would propose, in fact, that children today need these experiences more than ever. When our own children were young, my wife, Marge, was a homemaker, and her activities with the kids were mostly domestic. When the three boys became restless with toys, television, and household tedium, sibling strife frequently broke out. By the weekend, Marge was ready to turn them over to me so she could get out of the house and go somewhere to regain her sanity!

So the boys and I would go fishing, or we would take a trip to the ocean tide pools, the wooded hills, or the desert. “Were the boys okay for you?” she’d sometimes ask when we returned. They always were. Eventually she stopped asking because she came to realize that there is enchantment in the wilderness that can alter the behavior of children. Books have even been written about that kind of magic [see Last Child In the Woods]. Rustic camps and lodges can be an important alternative to comfortable resorts where seemingly endless activities distract from the spiritual benefits of the wilderness. Safe access to wild places offered in these places can help young and old alike to gain knowledge that will increase their sense of wonder in God’s creation.

The solitude and quietness offered there provide opportunities for people to more thoroughly contemplate their Creator’s words in the light of His works. In so doing, they may gain wisdom similar to that attained by King Solomon. When we neglect the chances we have to observe characteristics of God’s eternal power and divine nature that can be discovered in the wild places, we are denying ourselves of knowledge that is critical to our spiritual growth and witness.

Collectively, we buy thousands of books to read about knowing God. What we often miss, however, is the opportunity to enter the wild places that showcase the wonder of God’s handiwork and be once again impressed with aspects of the created world that can only enhance our worship of the One who made it.

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]