There is something about the natural world that seems to convey the contemplative Christian towards Him who is beyond it. As we gaze on that which might be called “direct creation”, that is objects that can be said to come directly from the hands of our Lord we may find ourselves feeling an imminence to the divine that is lacking when standing in even the most beautiful cathedral. One does not need to be a Pantheist to find God in nature. As Theists we simply realize that the sublimity of the natural world comes from God without being God.
In a First World landscape that, “green thinking” or not, is increasingly blighted by the hands of man the balm of nature becomes more precious to many Christians in the West. The sight of puffy white clouds against a cerulean sky or the sun shimmering off a lake on a perfect morning can, for the truly biblically-informed believer, become legitimate channels to intimacy with the God who made both. Lately some of the most profound experiences I have had with the presence and mystery of the Spirit have been during deliberate times of concentration on the landscape visible outside of my home in a semi-rural region of my home state of New Jersey.
In fact I’ve recently taken to listening to the requiems of the Anglican composer, Herbert Howells while looking intently at the trees that make up a large part of the view outside of my living room windows. To that I’ve added readings from A.W. Tozer’s “Knowledge of the Holy”, the American mystic’s profound reflections on the attributes of God. The combination of the swaying trees with the soaring voices of English choirs and the written insights of a keen and pious mind have, at times, transported me to a kind of deep worship I have perhaps never known before.
At such moments, however, the music and the book feel more like powerful aids to seeing God in nature than equal partners in the experience. Both are beautiful in their own right, and specifically Christian in content, but they are man-made and the trees I behold are not. There is just something about “direct creation” that facilitates the sensed presence of God for me.
Some might feel the need to remind me that nature is fallen, imperfect and yet unredeemed during these shadowy days preceding the Eschaton. I know all this to be true. I know the natural world longs for the same transformation promised in the return of the Son of God that we do. But nature, even imperfect nature, is nonetheless glorious and remains deeply redolent of its perfect Maker. As I go on in my Christian walk I find myself only coming to love it more as I come to love Him more. In fact I believe my Lord has ultimately used his creation to deepen my first love for Him. If the work of His hands are beautiful how much more is it impressed upon me that He is?
We indeed must go beyond the natural to the supernatural, from the creation to the Creator, but who is to say that the natural was not specifically created to facilitate that journey?
Not I.