There has always been a special place in my heart for the woods. I grew up running around on deer paths in the dark cedar woods behind my parents’ house. It was where I spent my time daydreaming, creating swords out of sticks to slay monsters, and making up stories. It was where I learned how to love sunlight and the stories it would tell as it filtered through heavy cedar branches and warmed the dark, dank soil. It was where I learned to love the God who created those stories. I grew more, spiritually and mentally, on those winding deer paths than anywhere else whether listening to sermons on my iPod, singing my favorite hymns, or praying. Those paths and those trees have left a deep mark on my life, and I thank God for the time spent there.
There are many Christians who rarely visit these wild places. And if they do, they don’t seem to be able to dig into the glory that surrounds them. To the majority of churchgoers, nature is merely something good God made. Like a Thomas Kinkade painting, it is pretty to look at but there is nothing to meditate on. It is just there. It has no spiritual meaning or worth. But nothing could be further from the truth.
Scripture is God’s primary way of communicating to mankind. It is deemed “special revelation,” actual words spoken by God to men about Himself. But God also communicates through the natural world (Psalm 8:3-4). The Scriptures engage our minds, while nature engages our senses. As John Calvin said in a sermon, “There is not one blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice.”
Think back to the beginning of time, when nothing existed except God Himself. When He began to create, what was the basis of His creation? What was His guideline and inspiration? What could it have been other than Himself and His identity? So when we step out into the natural world of creation, we find ourselves walking in the physical manifestation of God and His character.
No wonder our pagan ancestors worshipped nature. In spite of the sinfulness of the human heart, they recognized something far beyond themselves was represented in the trees, rocks, and rivers causing them to bow down in reverence. They saw significance in the winter solstice, as the days grew longer and warmer, promising life after death. They realized the night sky pointed to a higher spiritual reality, declaring the glory of something they could not quite understand. They added their own mark to the story they saw in nature, making beautiful art, musical instruments, cave paintings, unknowingly responding to their Creator in the only way they could.
The trees, rocks, and rivers belong to our God. He created them, designed with a reason and a place in the narrative of His grace to fallen men. We can peer deep into the darkest parts of the night sky and discover a billion distant worlds full of unknown displays of God’s greatness. We can reach down into the fabric of reality, even deeper than the world of the atom, studying the inner workings of God’s handiwork. We can explore the Grand Canyon, the redwood forests of California, or the little patch outside the back door, and understand that there is more revealed about God in one square inch of it than we could ever discover in a thousand years.
So let’s take a break for a short time from everyday life. Step out of the plastic manmade world of screens, entertainment, and climate-controlled spaces and meditate on the grace of God shown in nature. Be hooked by the narrative of spring’s victory over winter and remember Christ’s victory over the grave and the promise of life to come. Celebrate the sun’s life-nurturing rays and the silver moon set against the stars. Go where the wild things worship and worship the God of Earth surrounded by the magic stillness of the woods, where every tree is a sermon and every bird’s song is a hymn.
