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.

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]

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.”

Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them.  Glorious and majestic are His deeds, and His righteousness endures forever.  He has caused His wonders to be remembered. (Psalm 111:1-3)

In the months leading up to the launch of this Wonder of Creation feature for RBC last fall, I was pondering just what I wanted to say first about the wonder of God’s creation that has captivated me since I first learned to walk [which would be 1943!]. To help me think on it, I took a ride in the country–which in West Michigan is mostly farmland.

It wasn’t long before I had to stop the car to observe a mass motion that had totally arrested my attention: butterflies—as far as I could see—dancing in the air above alfalfa fields on both sides of the road. It seemed they were virtually attacking the newly emerged violet blossoms of this common crop. It was a good thing there was no traffic on the narrow gravel road, because I was mesmerized by the sulfur and monarch butterflies whose colors had been “neonized” by the late afternoon sun. In my alley between those two feeding frenzies I said a few wow’s to myself—and to my Creator. And I thought again how much I love where I live. This was just the latest reason.

But our family has also lived in three other regions of the United States, and we loved living there too.  Truly “He has caused His wonders to be remembered.”  Memories of outdoor South Carolina are still fresh after 34 years: discovering wild scuppernong grapes twining over the fallen boards of an old farm shed, watching our boys feed persimmons to cows over the back fence, and cracking fresh pecans from the grove in front of the little house that served as our home while I was in graduate school.

Our Northern California sojourn provided memories as fond, but very different: watching the fog drape like frosting over the peaks of the Marin Headlands in the evening, turning giant bull-kelp bulbs into trumpets with my Swiss Army knife on a Point Reyes beach, clamming and fishing with my boys on the shore of Tomales Bay, and watching the aerobatics of a white-tailed kite seeking dinner for her fledglings over the ever-picturesque hills of the coast range with their bright golden grass and deep green live oaks. [You can see the tan roof of our Northern California home just to the right of the tall yellow-green poplars in this photo, which you can enlarge by clicking on it.]

In Southern California it was our family’s favorite pocket beach at Moss Point in busy Laguna Beach where with your back to the shoreline, you could feel virtually isolated on a lonely island. There too was weird and wild Joshua Tree National Park providing the most exotic rock scrambling in country.  Then there was snorkeling over swaying kelp beds where bright orange, but timid, Garibaldi fish zipped down and away from you and not-timid harbor seals zipped up and at you. As our sons will tell you, being nose to nose with seals in surf-tumbled waters is a thrill one can never forget.
[For a slideshow of other Joshua Tree photos, click here.]

So my encouragement here is simple: just love where you’re at! There’s virtually no place in on earth where you cannot gain joy from God’s creation, and it is as close as the outdoors just beyond your back door. Spider webs gleaming with pearls of dew on your patio chairs in the morning, “horsetail” cirrus clouds forming and reforming overhead, sandhill cranes “crawking” and reeling in the sky above your apartment, or katydids scritch-scritch-scritching in the tree outside your bedroom window. Attune yourself to the sounds, scents, and motions of the natural world that every day can teach you more and more about the One who created you, loves you, and wants to fill you with wonder beyond measure.

[Monarch butterfly, scuppernong, and Garibaldi fish images from Wikipedia]

I will extol you, my God and King, and bless your name forever and ever. Every day I will bless you and praise your name forever and ever.  Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised, and his greatness is unsearchable. One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.  On the glorious splendor of your majesty, and on your wondrous works, I will meditate. [Psalm 145:1-5]

While we appreciate many of the benefits of modern technology, one of the negative results of our technological progress is its capacity to isolate us from the natural world—our Savior’s creation.

Almost imperceptibly many of us have lost touch with the natural world around us, and as a result, we’ve lost a vital sensitivity that helps us understand and appreciate God and His creative power as David did in this psalm.

In addition, we’ve lost a much-needed source of healing for the human spirit.  “Take time to smell the flowers” is not idle advice. And as Francis Schaeffer reminded us, “the death of our joy in nature is leading to the death of nature itself.”  Experiencing and enjoying the outdoors is a key antidote for much of what ails us in these stressful times.

Finally, we are losing familiarity with the creation as a source of knowledge and inspiration that instructed the preachers and poets of old.

Consider these:

- Robert Burns who, touched by plowing up a mouse’s nest, exclaimed, “The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray, and leave us naught but grief and pain for promised joy!

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow who, pondering depressions on a sandy beach, drew this analogy: “Lives of all great men remind us we can make our lives sublime and, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.”

- Thomas Gray who, reflecting on the noble souls who dwell unheralded in country cottages, wants us to remember that, “Full many a flower is born to blush unseen and waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

- Robert Frost who, comparing his life’s journey to a walk in the autumn forest, tells us that “two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

- William Cullen Bryant who, observing a lone waterfowl in flight, mused, “He who, from zone to zone / Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, / In the long way I must tread alone, / Will guide my steps aright.”

- Joaquin Miller, who, examining a tree, exulted, “Ten thousand leaves on every tree, / And each a miracle to me; / And yet there be men who question God!”

How long has it been since you have been inspired by God’s creation to see with the vision of a poet?  If it’s been more than a few months, you probably need a nature refresher.