Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:13-14).

Yesterday I had the rare treat of being able to spend an entire day by myself wandering through one of the most unique places in North America: The Living Desert nature center in Palm Desert, California. But being a grandfather of seven—six of them under age 8, I soon felt bad that I was not able to have them share this with me. Grandfathering is like that. Most kids were enjoying their time there, but near the end of the day, I overheard a discussion between a mom and dad and their daughter who was complaining about being tired and was clearly bored.

“You’re eleven and can spend hours running around with your friends,” said mom, “and you can’t handle a few hours here?!” “Maybe we better think twice about the vacation we’ve planned for this summer!” said dad. The child muttered something in self-defense. (I felt it was a bit harsh—but then remembered saying some things similar to that when our three boys were kids!)

I was there telling myself that I was enjoying this treat like a kid; but that kid, and a few others I noted, were not enjoying it. As they walked off, I mused about how one would go about motivating kids today to be nature lovers. It’s a tough task—for a number of complicated reasons. Then the biblical account of Jesus rebuking His disciples for trying to shoo off children from “bothering” their Master came to my mind as somehow related to the problem.

To our kids, who, really, is Jesus?

The obvious theological answer to that is that since Jesus is now at the Father’s side and His Spirit is here indwelling believers, Jesus to our children is the same as who Jesus is to the rest of the world today: His body—the church—loving, and caring for each other, their neighbors, the world of lost humanity, and the good earth. To that eleven-year-old girl, Jesus would—if her parents were followers of Him—be personified in them. This is true of all who claim the name of Jesus.

But let me suggest something else here: While Jesus is indeed at His Father’s side, He is also, according to Colossians 1, the One who created all things, presently holds together all things, and who in His death, burial, and resurrection provided redemption for the cosmos, and will one day refresh, restore, reunify, and reconcile all things to God. If our children knew this about Jesus and recognized His hand in the creation in the beginning and continuing now, might they not have a different impression about the regal bighorn sheep, the sun-haloed cactus, the tenacious yucca, and every blooming desert wildflower? By isolating and insulating our kids from the wonders of His creation, are we not in the same boat with Jesus disciples: keeping the children from the Savior who is also our Creator?

That’s some pretty heavy musing, I know!  But think about it—-and feel free to discuss it using the comments feature below.

Be careful to seek out all the commandments of the Lord your God, that you may possess this good land, and leave it as an inheritance for your children after you forever (1 Chr. 28:8). If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever (1 Tim. 5:8 NIV).

In the 1980s, commentators often called the younger generation the “Me Generation” or the “Now Generation.” They saw a disturbing attitude among young people that in essence said, “I want it all, and I want it now.” Considering the greed and materialism the younger generation saw in adults, the cumulative effect of thousands of hours of exposure to “consumer” advertising, the loss of interest in history, the disintegration of the institutions of family and marriage, and the decline of religious values, it is understandable that they would be characterized by self-centeredness.

Contrast that with the attribute of altruism—unselfish concern for the welfare of others. When the Christian values of faith in an eternal God, compassion for others, self-sacrifice, and hope for the future disappear from the general culture, there is little chance that altruism will survive. In fact, most people today would likely have difficulty even defining the term altruism. As the combined Scripture passages above indicate, people of the Word have a responsibility to provide for their children and to leave for them an inheritance of faith and the gift of good land—a creation respected and well-kept.

Christian farmer-philosopher Wendell Berry has written a number of books that underscore the broad meaning of community—community that includes our ancestors, our current family members and neighbors, our animals and land, and our descendants. These words from the book What Are People For? have caused me to consider more carefully the legacy I am leaving:

We do not need to devise a “world of the future”; if we take care of the world of the present, the future will have received full justice from us. A good future is implicit in the soils, forests, grasslands, marshes, deserts, mountains, rivers, lakes, and oceans that we have now; the only valid “futurology” available to us is to take care of those things. We have no need to contrive and dabble at “the future of the human race”; we have the same pressing need that we have always had—to love, care for, and teach our children (p.188).

Berry elaborates on this last line in the book Another Turn Of The Crank:

I know of nothing that so strongly calls into question our ability to care for the world as our present abuses of our own reproductivity. How can we take care of other creatures, all born like ourselves from the world’s miraculous fecundity, if we have forsaken the qualities of culture and character that inform the nurture of children. . . . Whatever the reason, it is a fact that we are now conducting a sort of general warfare against children, who are being aborted or abandoned, abused, drugged, bombed, neglected, poorly raised, poorly fed, poorly taught, and poorly disciplined. Many of them will not only find no worthy work but no work of any kind. All of them will inherit a diminished, diseased, and poisoned world. We will visit upon them not only our sins but our debts. We have set before them thousands of examples—governmental, industrial, and recreational—suggesting that the violent way is the best way. And then we have the hypocrisy to be surprised and troubled when they carry guns and use them (pp.78-79).

This sobers me. As one who believes in Christ, I’d like to think he’s describing only non-Christian people. But I’m afraid I see many of these behaviors and attitudes among those of us who call ourselves followers of Jesus. We’re a long way from being the community that treasures our past, guards our present, and secures our future. While we look for the any-moment return of Christ, we cannot use this expectation to excuse ourselves from the responsibility to leave God’s gift of creation to our children and their children well-kept and as undiminished as possible in its capacity to provide for them what it has provided for us.

[Photos: Lancaster County, Pennsylvania]

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.”