“For His invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and
divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the
world, in the things that have been made.” Romans 1:18
I always say that if I hadn’t
become a Christian, I would be a hippy. I have a
let-me-wander-through-the-flowers-all-day, starstruck giddiness about the great
outdoors and (almost) everything natural. If I want people to know anything,
it’s the goodness of Him, but second to that and alternately (according to Romans
1:18) leading people toward the first, is the goodness of His creation. There’s
something marvelous about how flowers choose to appear and blossom every
spring, how all those seemingly dead trees all of a sudden come forth bursting
with and springing to life.
It gives hope, knowing that this
pattern set in motion from the beginning of time will always come to be—it
speaks of the everlasting faithfulness of God, which none can refute. It
breathes life back into you: knowing that He takes care of His creation, leaves
you with the satisfying knowing that He is good and He can take care of you. I
wanted to write “once fully committed and listening to His voice” He can take
care of you—but I know that that’s not entirely true. That there’s more at
work—ALWAYS—the Lord sustaining the world in every bit and piece all over the
world, all over the time. Yes, we see evil “triumph” seemingly in the worst
circumstances but I believe He is always orchestrating and moving forth in the
world to sustain, to keep us from fully committing Hare Krishna and completely
obliterating any good. Yes, there are suicide bombers and those who hold the
potential in their hands to transform the entire planet into a nuclear
wasteland—but it hasn’t happened yet and even when humans do their worst, I
believe God still steps in (with as much of His force and goodness as He can
while still extending that free will He fully offered us) and keeps their plans
from becoming as completely devastating as they long to be.
A faithfulness runs deep in Him
that can never be refuted, no matter how torturous we are to each other or what
we do to His world. He sees the glory of our lives and won’t give up on what He
created, even when we do everything in our power to run from His dreams for us.
There’s too much, He knows too much, about us and our futures and the depth of
His love and all that He is—good, holy (He knows the right timing for all the
events of our lives), faithful, true, generous, just, hopeful—there’s too much
of Him for Him to ever give up on one of us. Even to the end, the last day of
our lives, He stands waiting with bated breath—will they do it? Will they trust
me? Will they be able to come home?
It’s far too much for our minds to
comprehend (as it should be) but as we look around and just see all that He has
done, let it rest on you. Goodness, a delightful plan is at the center of the
universe. We have a wonderous setting in which to live out the drama that has
been written as our lives—and yes, it can have pain, often man-made—for He created
but then He let go. Death came, and often seems to reign, in the midst of a
world where a man and woman made a choice that brought death—but the strong
pulse is life—resurrection even. I
believe creation speaks to everlasting life that God longs to give us—that
tress may lie dormant, and seeds as well, for many months but in the end—with
the right light and temperature and just a little bit of rain, it all comes
springing back again, saying something about the nature of our God—He loves to
see death out of life and in fact, delights in it.
He did send His Son in this manner
after all, did He not? This precious one—His only Son—came to display the
Father’s character, His great plan. Death came to Jesus—as it does to all born
on this earth—but out of that death came life, life eternal forever never to be
defeated again, EVER, and offered freely to us. It’s so simple that it seems to
be profound, the Father asking, “Please believe that the life Jesus offered on
the cross is life enough for you, to cover all that you have done, and that His
new life, resurrection, can become all that you live out of for the rest of
your days.”
It’s simple, but we make it
complicated. We try to find loopholes, other ways to “save” ourselves—anything
that keeps us from being known, being accountable to a being beyond our
reckoning. We’re running scared, something inside us fighting against having to
deend on anyone, much less a “God” who we can’t even see. It’s terrifying. How
do we know that He’s good? How do we know He won’t require of us more than we
can give? How do we know He won’t be even more painful thn everything we’ve
already been through? Let’s just run!
And there’s a disconnect. As man
becomes less and less connected with nature, our understanding of God wanes. I
know, I am one of the mighty hordes of people who work for a living, making
ends meet by waking up before dawn and coming home when it’s dark. Sunshine is
infrequent on my skin, as I spend my days inside a building trapped into doing
the work required to just make it. I yearn for the mountains I see far in the
distance, the sun rising above them in a glorious display—but it is not now
time for me to be a part of them…too much to be done. Pale skin, tired heart, quietly
living out my life the best I can.
I know that world, I do. But I know
the world before that one, in college, where every day I had a set appointment
to be outside, in the middle of trees and grass and fallen logs, just me and my
Maker and His book (the Bible). From where I am now it seems that I was never closer, never fuller, never more
excited about life than in those beautiful months.
I encourage you—see Him today.
Spend some time with a flower, a tree, marveling at unique design and flawless
resurrection—at our beautiful planet, spun into motion eons ago and still
lovingly cared for. Think of the God who became a man to live on this earth for
us and give life to us. Ask Him to speak to you—just say His name, whisper
“Jesus” and take the time to listen to His voice as He speaks. He has something
to say.
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