How many are your works, LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures (Psalm 104:24)

One of the saddest commentaries on our times comes from “A Report on the Movement to Reconnect Children to the Natural World” by the Children and Nature Network.  It quotes a fourth-grader from San Diego: “I like to play indoors better ’cause that’s where all the electrical outlets are.”

I guess we shouldn’t be surprised by such a comment, since that’s the reason most of us adults play and work indoors.

Even though as a kid I lived in town, my friends and I hardly played indoors except for rainy weather and deep winter.  Actually that was true until Dickie Andrews’ family purchased the first television in the neighborhood.  Before TV, we all played outdoors after school until we were called inside for dinner.  Then came Kukla, Fran, and Ollie, Howdy Doody, and Tom Corbett, Space Cadet. And I can remember, just as depicted in the movie “A Christmas Story,” waiting impatiently for my own secret decoder from Ovaltine—and being disappointed that it was not as exciting as it looked on TV.

But come summer, daytime TV could not compete with the woods, the pasture, or the creek.  The moms of  we “OAK Boys” (Ohlman, Andrews, Kenfield) typically asked us in the morning, “Are you going to be home for lunch, or do you want me to make you a sack-lunch?”  If the choice was sack-lunch, it came along with the admonition to be home by supper-time—an admonition that was often fruitless, since none of us had a watch.  Sometimes what we were doing was very well worth coming home to a cold supper for. [Photo of painting by Armand Merizon, artist whose home was only about 20 miles from where the OAK Boys hung out.]

Grant and Peter Vos and their hideout

I truly grieve for my grandchildren today—for their not having the opportunity to experience the joy we Oak Boys had of almost total outdoor freedom, of hideouts in the woods, of shinnying up and bending down trees, of pulling apart stumps searching for a possum, I even grieve their loss of such risk: risk of a dunking trying to cross the creek on a wobbly log or launching a poorly constructed raft, risk of getting a poison ivy rash, risk of getting a nasty pinch grabbing crawdads, risk of getting stung throwing stones at a paper wasp nest, risk of getting sprayed by daring to be the one who got closest to the skunk before it cocked its tail, and even the risk of falling through the ice on a shallow muskrat pond—one we had grown familiar enough with to know that it was not deep enough to drown in.  Life itself is a big risk, but it is less risky when we learn from having taken smaller risks—risks that often result in scratches, cuts, burns, bruises, slivers, rashes, and barked shins. Pain is not only a great teacher, it is also a great behavioral change agent—the whole point of spanking!

Author Richard Louv has written a valuable book that goes into all such matters and offers us adults a great challenge: to get our children and grandchildren back outdoors: Last Child in the Woods.  Louv also spearheaded the formation of the Children and Nature Network that seeks to perpetuate the ideas, concepts, and precepts he suggests in the book.  With spring approaching, take time to examine these valuable resources and motivate yourself to be active in the fight against NDD: Nature Deficit Disorder—and CKD: Creation Knowledge Disorder.  If we worship the Creator and are His stewards—both now and in the coming Kingdom—should we not become intimate with His creation?

As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the LORD’s renown, for an everlasting sign that will endure forever (Isaiah 55:10-13).

After my godly father, church, and Sunday school, the most significant influence on my spiritual formation as a youth was Christian camps. From age nine to sixteen, I was involved with camps—first as a camper and then as a counselor. My dad was on the founding board of a Christian camp that utilized a Civilian Conservation Corps facility in Western Michigan—the first AWANA camp started by Lance Latham. Dad was on the board from 1945 until his death in 1975. I was blessed to serve with him the last few years.

The camp motto is still the same: “Where Christ is First.” Being led by godly men who had a heart for Christ, for evangelism, and the spiritual nurture of children, the camp has probably led thousands of kids to Christ and helped motivate many into ministry, missions, and lay occupations where they have continued to spread and live out the Gospel. I could go on and list many more positives about that camp and about Christian camps in general.

Yet while I don’t fault the leadership of camps then, or camps today, I have come to realize that there has been a glaring failure in Christian camping that has created attitudes and misunderstandings among adult followers of Christ that have had some significant negative consequences: the failure to use their ideal setting to teach from God’s other “book”—the book of God’s works. The natural world (especially the beautiful natural settings of most camps) is a revelation of God: what theologians call the “general revelation.” The camp I attended, “where Christ is first,” almost totally ignored the link between Christ and the creation: making us aware of what some have called the “cosmic Christ.” No doubt this was the consequence of a big hole that still exists in the spiritual formation of most evangelicals and fundamentalists—the lack of a well articulated and well taught theology of nature and the absence of what I call the lost fundamental: that we are creation’s caretakers.

Since these elements are mostly missing in Christian homes, churches, and Sunday schools, one can’t entirely fault camps for the failure to recognize their opportunity to make up for it while they have a virtually captive audience out in God’s great outdoors. The camp at the top of Lake Superior in Canada where I served as a counselor did offer a nature walk.  Dear and patient Mrs. Plunkett came once a week to  offer about an hour-long trek in the bush to whoever wanted to go, but that was it.  Only a few kids ever gave up their play time for a walk in the woods.

With all the resources now available to camps for teaching the theology of nature, for offering intensive outdoor education, and for providing instruction in biblically-based environmental ethics to children and teens, there really is little reason that such cannot be a part of the curriculum of every Christian camp ministry. Sadly, some of the largest camps that have thousands of campers over the course of the summer have mostly become “resorts” and places for the entertainment of kids. Instead of having kids learning about Christ the Creator through the creation, they have the kids mountain-biking in it, playing in it (or in huge chlorinated pools), shooting targets in it, or sitting indoors listening to highly amped bands and dynamic motivational speakers.

That a kid should leave a camp in the Sierra without knowing the difference between a Douglas fir and a Ponderosa pine or leave a camp in the Midwest without knowing the difference between white pine and a red pine is to me a shame. That they should be able to sing “all the trees of the forest shall clap their hands,” and not have a clue that the forests around them are being threatened by invasive species, over-development, and destructive harvesting is to me sad. That kids should go away from camp spiritually (emotionally?) hyped and well instructed about the Jesus who lived two millennia ago, yet not understand the facts about the living Jesus who redeemed the creation, who sustains the creation, and who will come again to restore it as an even more awesomelybeautiful place to which our souls will return and reoccupy physical bodies to enjoy the Creator forever [consider today's Scripture] is to me the greatest tragedy of all.

If you’re involved in Christian camping or send kids to camp, I encourage you to see what you can do to motivate that camp to address these vital and commonly missing elements. Every kid should leave camp every summer awed by the wonder of creation—and motivated to live a “creation careful” life the rest of the year. If the camp you are involved with does that, appreciate the blessing and thank the camp leadership.

You might want to check American Outdoor Schools directed by my friend Bob Frembling.  It is a program that brings skilled outdoor educators to both Christian and secular camps to provide excellent outdoor education that is Creator-centered.

Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come. . . . Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing whether it is good or evil (Ecclesiastes 12:1, 13-14).

Continued from the last post:

The OAK Boys nature club of Hastings disbanded in 1954 when our family moved back to Grand Rapids area. Dickie (Richard Andrews) eventually went on to earn a doctorate and became a physicist with the US Department of Energy at Fermilab west of Chicago. Lanny (Lannes Kenfield), sadly, ended up in The Village in New York and made his mark in seedy, profane, and anti-establishment “free love” entertainment. His life ended a few years ago in an apartment a couple blocks from Ground Zero.

I entered my teenage years while living in Grandville, Michigan, and for a while tried to recreate an outdoor club with the “Buck Creek Adventure Boys” (with friends Roger and Gary), but for some reason, interests change at that age! But I continued to be a birdslayer with my BB-gun and then a .22 rifle. One of my last “hunting” acts with Roger was to “bring down” a fox squirrel after shooting it more than 30 times with virtually worn-out air rifles—an act that today still fills me with shame when I recall it: that and the many instances when my attempts to make pets out of wild creatures almost always ended with the death of the animals (like risking my life to climb a tree to take five nestlings out of a crow’s nest, thinking of how neat it would be to have five pet crows! Dumb. Cruel.)

Hunting and fishing, however, did eventually become long-time adult activities for me until our two older boys reached hunting age. Greg enjoyed it for quite some time. Eric, however, fired his new birthday shotgun once and declared, “I don’t want to do this. Can we return the gun to the store?” We did. Greg, David, and I still fish a bit, but we find other ways of enjoying the outdoors more rewarding and less complicated.

Since becoming a creation-care enthusiast some 20 years ago, I’ve often contemplated the meaning of my past outdoor activities. Playing in woods, fields, and streams as a boy seem to have been the most formative of my love of nature, but hunting and fishing significantly increased my outdoor observation and awareness skills. And there’s almost nothing like hunting and fishing with other guys to help create strong and long-lasting male friendships. This is especially significant with boys and their fathers. Few activities can match hunting and fishing as prime bonding activities for fathers and sons. Even though I no longer hunt and now have some significant issues with hunting “for sport,” I find that I typically have more in common with sportsmen than I do with totally “citified” folks. And I also find that it’s very difficult to motivate people who are uncomfortable more than fifty yards away from cars, buildings, and concrete to care more about wild nature.  Most seem to have virtually no internal connection with the natural environment outside the realm of weather.

Even “old-time religion” in the fundamentalist/evangelical vein (my background) seems to militate against caring about and/or for creation. Those reared in this tradition are naturally oriented toward relationships with people—often for the good and soundly biblical purpose of carrying out the Great Commission: bringing folks to Christ and discipling them in the faith. But when you add that to the common partnership of conservative Christians with right-wing politics and laissez-faire, free-market capitalism with its distrust of the “environmental movement,” you have a huge block of citizen consumers in America who can all too easily rationalize away any concern about the state of the environment—even though lack of such concern can be shown to be both biblical and rationally unsound.

So I have to confess that I often feel like the creation-care cause I believe God has called me to champion in my evangelical milieu is mostly a losing cause. This was highlighted for me almost twenty-years ago when a conservative and affluent relative of mine said to me, “Everything you say about creation care may well be true, but you know that no one will actually do anything about it until there’s a crisis.” Now I’m left wondering how many environmental crises there have to be before we actually do “do anything.” Perhaps the statement should have been, “No one will do anything about it until environmental crises actually impact our own wealth and lifestyles.” [Santa Claus poster source]

Next time I’d like to reflect on the role of Christian camps on our attitudes about the outdoors and creation care.

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:13-15)

Growing up in a small Michigan town in the years immediately following WWII and living in a warm and loving Christian home was in many ways idyllic.  Mom was the typical 50’s homemaker, who accompanied her washing, cleaning, and cooking duties with radio broadcasts from WMBI (the long-range AM station from Moody Bible Institute). Dad was the typical bread-winner, who came home every evening, stopping to pick up the newspaper on the front steps before coming in for supper.

The whole family ate breakfast and supper together (lunch, of course, we kids garnered from our lunch boxes at school), and after supper Dad read to us from Elsie Eggermeier’s Bible Story Book. Afterward, he and Mom read the paper and we kids played or tuned in to comedies or mysteries on the big Motorola console radio.  Bedtime meant bed-side prayers, which always began with “Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep.  If I should die before I wake, I pray thee my soul to take.”  That was the school-year routine. [Lunch box photo source.]

But summer—ah, what a joy!  After breakfast, the OAK boys (Ohlman, Andrews, and Kenfield) met briefly to determine the plan for the day—which we would share with our moms, who then simply asked whether we were coming home for lunch or if they needed to pack a sack lunch for us.  Hastings was divided into quadrants, called wards, and the typical rule for kids was this: if you knew your four-digit phone number and knew your address, you were free to roam your ward.  Mom’s knew you were somewhere in the ward unless you asked permission to go to another ward.  Each ward had its own elementary school, so most of your friends were from your ward.

Ours was the First Ward, which was blessed to include a few town-edge farms.  Closest to us was the Kelly farm with probably 80 acres, which included a cornfield, a couple pastures, and a wonderful woods with a muskrat pond, a creek, and an old railroad bed (the former Chicago, Kalamazoo, and Saginaw Railroad—sometimes called by the old-timers the “Cuss, Kick, and Swear” railroad).  We called the now trackless bed “the tramp trail” because hobos sometimes used it to walk from town to town and job to job.  On occasion a tramp would show up at our back door, and Mom would usually give him something to eat on the back stoop, an act that earned our house a hobo mark that indicated that the kind lady living there would give you something to eat. [Chicago, Kalamazoo, and Saginaw Railroad photo source]

We called Kelly’s woods “the grubs,” (our having no idea where that name came from).  But the grubs was where I received my outdoor education and my love for nature.  The OAK boys sometimes spent the entire day there making tree houses or various hideouts, looking for frogs to catch and dispatch so we could eat frog legs (which really do taste like chicken), shinnying up and swinging on saplings, or picking wildflowers to bring home to our moms (Lanny Kenfield’s mom was blind, and she especially loved the fragrant violets).

How I miss those days now—missing them mostly for our grandchildren, who often ask me to tell them stories of my childhood adventures: about the time a captured turtle bit my belly and sent me home screaming in pain as he flopped up and down, about my cocker spaniel tripping up a bull who was chasing us in Kelly’s pasture, about my cutting my foot with a hatchet I had found in the grubs, and so forth.  Sometimes I’m able to take our grandchildren into the woods, but that doesn’t make up for the opportunity of their being free to wander, play, entertain themselves, and become intimate with the woods and pastures.  Kids need to experience—and explore—the outdoors.

About a month ago while walking on a newly-built roadside trail, I did discover a couple boys building a hut in the woods, and it filled me with nostalgia.  Fortunately I had my camera with me and could capture an activity that has now become so rare.  The Wonder Kids page of this website is provided to give parents, grandparents, and other child caregivers tips about getting kids back outdoors and ideas about instructing them in important truths about their Creator and His “other book”—what theologians have termed the “general revelation.”  Nothing electronic can come close in value as an “educator” of children than the wonders of God’s creation.  We gotta get ‘em out there!

I wonder how many children of Christian parents even know that Jesus still lives, that He is the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, and that He is the Redeemer who with the Father keeps and eventually takes our souls and will ultimately return those souls to incorruptible bodies that will enjoy endless life on a restored earth.  Teach that to a kid today!

I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever.  Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever. Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom. One generation will commend your works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts. They will speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty, and I will meditate on your wonderful works (Psalm 145:1-5)

Poor Rachel Carson (May 27, 1907 – April 14, 1964) can’t seem to rest in peace.  Ever since her book Silent Spring virtually spawned the modern Environmental Movement, her scientific conclusions about DDT have been accepted, rejected, challenged and re-researched so often that it’s hard to know the truth about it.  Mostly, however, the issue has been an economic football kicked from post to post in a hard-fought battle between conservative libertarians and perceived “liberal” scientists.  For sure the issue has kept in everyone’s attention the advisability of spreading “cides” all over the landscape and has rightly cautioned us about using them without knowing all of the effects and side-effects of their use.

Rachel grew up in rural Pennsylvania and loved to explore and learn from the natural world as she ambled around her family’s 65-acre farm.  She was such an astute observer and good student that she had an article published when she was eleven!  Her sense of wonder in nature never left her.  In fact, it became the topic of another of her books: The Sense of Wonder.  The following quote from the book is found on the WOC page Creation Quotations and Wonder Kids.  Although Carson was not known as a follower of Christ and was probably a secular naturalist, her views on children and the sense of wonder are wise words for us to heed:

A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.

If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder without any such gift from the fairies, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. Parents often have a sense of inadequacy when confronted on the one hand with the eager, sensitive mind of a child and on the other with a world of complex physical nature, inhabited by a life so various and unfamiliar that it seems hopeless to reduce it to order and knowledge. In a mood of self-defeat, they exclaim, “How can I possibly teach my child about nature—why, I don’t even know one bird from another!”

I sincerely believe that for the child, and for the parent seeking to guide him, it is not half so important to know as to feel. If facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and the impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow. The years of early childhood are the time to prepare the soil. Once the emotions have been aroused—a sense of the beautiful, the excitement of the new and the unknown, a feeling of sympathy, pity, admiration or love—then we wish for knowledge about the object of our emotional response. Once found, it has lasting meaning. It is more important to pave the way for the child to want to know than to put him on a diet of facts he is not ready to assimilate.

[From The Sense of Wonder, by Rachel L. Carson]

[Our grandchildren---from top to bottom:  Gunnar, Elle, and Anna]