getting ready to "Speak"

Nature is necessary. It’s necessarily natural. It’s expressive. Shouting thunder, crying clouds. Wind that whispers, waves that lull, trees that cradle. Beams of bliss, caws of laughter, blades of sensitivity, shades of vibrancy. It’s like us, in a way.

We are physical, we feel, and sometimes our surroundings help. They’re tangible and dependable, and therefore reasonable, authenticating our existence. But who are we to begin with? Or rather, with whom are we to begin? I know I did not start it all. My words are small. Our relationships with the world around us begin at the roots, from where we come. Our humanly subsistence, and first of all existence, is not of our own. The pulse and the pulsating muscles and the mind and the heart with a mind of its own and the tingling sensational flesh—I did not make it. I was made. “God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them… God saw all that He had made and behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:27, 31a).

In the beginning, God spoke. Whether sound or statement, an expression went forth, expanding and stretching the heavens to become. “The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands” (Psalm 19:1). It’s a declaration of dependence, of need for truth and true love. Nature is necessarily expressive, a poignant point to an ethereal finger. The substance of creation is substantial. It subsists, as do we, because of a Sustainer.

In the beginning, all was perfect and the sound was harmonious; creature, created, and Creator in harmony. It was good, very good.

When I crinkle up the paper like a crunchy fallen leaf, I do not feel very good. When I glance at a deer, dead, lanced by a humming car, I cringe. When I sneeze on the water and a gummy surface reflects itself along the bank, I realize that I’m sick. It was my choice, my indifference, my independence, my rebellion. An apple, fallen from its tree, of its own accord. And worms infested the world, digging us holes deeper and deeper into the rot that we wreak, away from the sunlight.

But again, God spoke. “And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). And the Son shone and “in Him was the life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:4-5). At the edge of the lake, fiery fall colors reflected, and the light caught my eye. And as I trusted, I asked, and the tree lifted my dirt-covered apple and reconnected it to the branch, restoring it, redeeming it. And the lake reflected the world, and I saw His glory.

I felt small, like you do when you lie on the ground, pitch black surrounding you, and you gaze at the stars. How could someone count them all? Give it a try. “Lift up your eyes on high and see who has created these stars, the One who leads forth their host by number, He calls them all by name; because of the greatness of His might and the strength of His power, not one of them is missing” (Isaiah 40:26). The darkness did not overcome the light.

Let there be light! What a gift, the heavens and the earth. Not just a souvenir but an endowment. Dominance and submission equalize. The world came first, but people are principal. Yet He cares and so we must tenderly care for His garden. In Maryland, my dad became a gardener. He planted seeds in March, and watched the buds blossom and fruit ripen in the summer months. God produced the fruit but Dad nurtured it, helping it to actually take root. He could have killed the plants if he wanted, but what good would that do? And so we picked the peppers and zucchini and cantaloupe and tomatoes and mint. And in the following spring, He planted more, restoring the exposed ground, making it decent again.

The ethics of the environment are God-centric, and so mine are too. Nature is so necessary. We need it. Us and our world, we’re the same, in a way. Created for the same purpose, just different roles. We try to prove ourselves to others, but it’s God who proves Himself through us. It’s for His glory. He spoke the earth into motion. “Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night reveals knowledge” (Psalm 19:2). And so the Sustainer uses us to sustain our environment. We need sustainability, I cry. Just say the word, and maybe we’ll try.

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O LORD, my rock and my Redeemer” (Psalm 19:14).