Rediscovering The Sanctity Of Nature

Today I threw on a cardigan, picked up a cup of coffee, and went for a long walk in a park where I do this whole routine religiously. 

I do this because at heart, I am basically a 65 year old man, and also because there is a certain connection that I feel with God when I am in nature.

All creations reveal something about their creator (Romans 1:18 & Psalms 119). While this is often spoken of in reference to God's creation, it is also true of man's creation.

Today we find ourselves living in this creation. On the exterior it is made of roads and buildings; technology and cars and music. On it's insides, it's rooted in all sorts of motives, both good and evil. The invention is molded and crafted by every kind of person: the righteous, the wicked, the perverse, and the merely misguided. Since ancient times when Cain built the first city, we have been trying our hand at creating some sort of makeshift milieu to call home. 

These creations reflect their makers and often resound with ambition, lust, and greed. Upheaval, tumult and occasionally some deceptive brand of moralism are also usually part of the framework. I mean you can actually feel these things when you are walking down the street. In nature I see the brushstrokes of another artist, I see beauty, peace, and rest. Somehow I feel love and trust when I am there. When I am there  it makes sense to me why it all started in a garden.

If we are to know Christ we must abandon the former creation, in pursuit of the latter. We must abandon the civilized in pursuit of the primitive. In the wilderness like so many great men of faith before us, we will find God, and perhaps even ourselves in the process.

When I am walking there I see other people in the park, they are always trying to accomplish something. They are trying to lose weight, or teach their sons how to play baseball, or walk their dog. I usually let them pass me on the path as I continue my search for a more elusive and eternal prize...

The best parts...

The best parts of life come, I think, when we least expect them.

The other day it was finding a picture of my wife in her blue dress. It was the moment last week in the presence of God on my way to work. Today, it was snuggling with my daughter.

Maybe we are most fulfilled in these times, because for that one fading moment, we are completely and utterly content with the goodness before us.

The psalmist wrote that, “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want...” 

How much of our existences is spent striving? How much of our life are we “in want”, in pursuit of something... in vanity?

And what rest could our soul find if, for a few more moments every day, we silenced the insatiable beast whose name is ambition, and enjoyed fully His many benefits?

70 Years In Babylon

There is a need, I think, to find ourselves in the biblical narrative. We must find our struggles in the lives of our heroes and take solace in their victory in spite of their many troubles.

Realizing they were men and women made of dirt just like us, we find peace with being "only human" again.

I have found such comfort in the Israelite's captivity in Babylon.

Think about Jeremiah's words:

"After seventy years are completed, I will visit you and perform my good word toward you, and cause you to return to this place. 

For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope."

Many of the pages of our story are tales about Babylon. We spend our lives dreaming of Jerusalem. In our hearts, we know we are not Babylonians, we know this isn't who we are, or where we really belong. We are great singers, or writers, or wildlife photographers (I'm grasping at straws here) or whatever you are.

But for the time being we live in Babylon.

I have no answer for these seasons, only compassion for my fellow exiles. I used to have answers about these sorts of things, and catchy spiritual slogans like, "waiting time, isn't waisted time".  I'm not even sure what that even means.

Now I have only the patience that time has taught me, and a well tested gaze which I have spent looking towards the mountains from whence cometh my deliverance.

The Rudiments Of Worship

Worship is impossible without theology.

This is the phrase that has struck me in study lately.

There is no possible adoration for one we do not know. 

How can we praise attributes of the Deity that we are unaware of?

As a writer and musician, and a friend of many artists, I'm reminded of the necessity of study in the life of the believing artist.

As necessary, as scales, is theology. As fundamental as your skill's discipline, is discipleship.