Earlier this week we started to look at the implications of 1st Century Christian apostle Paul’s foundational statement in his letter to the church in Rome: Since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. (Romans 1:20 NIV). We began enumerating aspects of the natural world that might indeed reveal to us the existence of a Creator God whose power is eternal and whose nature is divine. Here are three more aspects that could compel us to believe that He is due our worship:
Fearsome, but essential, death. Most of life on earth depends on soil—and soil becomes life-giving because it contains dead organic matter. It’s both astounding and humbling to realize that the carbon atoms found in the earth’s living things have been recycled numberless times from the living to the dead and back to the living. The c
arbon atoms in our bodies were once in the bodies of the rich and famous, in the bodies of the poor and unknown, and in the bodies of mammals, fish, reptiles, insects, algae, and bacteria.
What a comfort it is to know that the God who sparks the dead into life underwent in His human form the separation of the soul from the body in death. That the caring and loving Creator would note the death of one sparrow has to fill us with hope that our souls, like that of Jesus Christ, will survive our material death. Having that hope, it is not morbid for us to see the necessity and ultimate goodness of surrendering our lifeless carbon atoms to new living things.
Awesome po
wer. John Muir once wrote of his experience climbing as high as he could in one of Yosemite’s huge Douglas firs in a windstorm. He wanted to feel the power of the gale like a tree does. He writes:
When the storm began to abate, I dismounted and sauntered down through the calming woods. The storm-tones died away, and, turning toward the east, I beheld the countless hosts of the forests hushed and tranquil, towering above one another on the slopes of the hills like a devout audience. The setting sun filled them with amber light, and seemed to say, while they listened, ‘My peace I give unto you.’ As I gazed on the impressive scene, all the so called ruin of the storm was forgotten, and never before did these noble woods appear so fresh, so joyous, so immortal.
The power of the forces that God maintains to keep the engine of His creation going is so overwhelming that it too is beyond words. A blinding blizzard, a roaring waterfall, a surging wave, a bolt of lightning, a grinding glacier—their power has to fill your mind with wonder and compel your soul to worship their Creator.
Revitalizing stillness. While the displays of the Creator’s power are indeed awesome in wild nature, I’m often as much impressed by the stillness counterpoised to power: the dripping silence after a passing thunderstorm, a lake still flecked with the foam of whitecaps becoming placid as a mirror, the soundlessness of snow transforming thousands of square miles of northern landscapes, the almost infinite quiet of a sere desert landscape cooling under a multihued sunset sky, and the noiseless rising of the sun when all nature seems, for a few moments, to bow its head in quiet reverence for the daily miracle of light renewed. So be still, my soul. Rest in the Creator who, according to the psalmist David, “is faithful to all His promises and loving toward all He has made” (145:13).
[Lake photo source]
December 11th, 2009 at 10:20 am
Dean, you made the statement: soil becomes life-giving because it contains dead organic matter, so prior to the fall, and death, do you suppose that the soil was life-giving because of different elements that may have been there that were replaced by dead and decaying things? I see why we should not look morbidly upon death (sometimes hard to do) since dead matter actually contributes to life. If this is true, are we finding God’s grace within the curse of death?
I ask that, because I’m beginning to see grace in the midst of what I used to consider law only, and requirements and boundaries, and even in what I used to consider only God’s anger. I was (still am somewhat) of the opinion that there is grace and there is law, and it is unwise to mingle the two. I am re-thinking that position. Don’t want to get into many particulars, it would take too much space, but my new “bent” is that His grace permeates all of His words and works, not just those which most preachers speak about.
The verse that has started me thinking is Mark 2:27: The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath. I’m seeing a big hunk of grace in that statement, where once the commandment to “remember the sabbath day to keep it holy” was only a command to be in church, now I see it as God’s saying how important it is for us to set aside time for rest and to listen to His Word and to worship with His people (which will return saneness, wholeness and joy to us. That’s grace too.
December 11th, 2009 at 5:52 pm
Bob, I track with you on your last two paragraphs. Some good things to think on there. Regarding the initial condition of “soil,” I would hesitate even to guess. Almost any way you conjecture with it gets either the old earth or the young earth creationists bothered. That’s why I hang in the middle listening to both sides and willing to wait until I hear from the Author. Certainly God could have placed all the nutrients in the soil without anything dying initially. And since all plants one way or another drop seeds (fruits, nuts, flowers) and foliage, carbon could then enter the system without plants dying—only their “produce.” And is it really death for entire plants to seed themselves and then dry up and decompose to help in the reproduction of the next season’s plants? And is the dying of vegetation even an issue in regard to death that came as a result of the Fall?
These questions certainly do one big thing for me: they say that God is big and I am very, very little (a sentiment Job certainly felt!)