"Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes.... Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (Eph. 6:11; 1 Pet. 5:8).
Anyone who lives with a cat knows that members of the feline tribe don't approach their prey openly. Rather, they sneak up soundlessly, every move patiently calculated, eyes fixed firm on the target, until they judge themselves close enough to deliver the killing blow in one quick leap. Often, they maintain a literal low profile, particularly useful if you're a lion and your preferred habitat is grassland where much of the cover is shorter than you are.
The "roaring lion" who is the devil uses similar tactics. He doesn't show his real self openly, and he saves most of his roaring for boasting about his kills. When scheming to deliver a crippling blow to someone's spiritual health, he's more likely to purr, speaking soothingly about how this really isn't sinful and would be so wonderful. He watches his targets carefully, keeping an eye on how they react to certain situations and what they aren't paying attention to. Carefully he maneuvers his victim into position, covering his true nature with whatever innocuous-looking aspect of the environment he can hide behind--then when danger is least suspected, he makes the fatal suggestion that leads his prey to fall hard and leaves everyone stunned, wondering what happened.
Also like the natural predator, which selects its victims based on the perceived ease of overpowering them, the devil has an eye for those souls most vulnerable to temptation. Ironically, these are often the ones who seem strongest to human eyes: the wealthy executive, the high-profile superstar, even the Christian worker who seems to be accomplishing great things for God. The devil knows that the more "successful" we become in human terms, the easier we find it to start relying on our own abilities rather than God's supernatural power--and human nature being what it is, there's no guarantee of an exception when those abilities are used for strictly "Christian" work. The megachurch pastor who commits adultery with an attractive young counselee may well have started with the purest of intentions, but brushed off warnings about the temptations of being alone with her because he was sure he was above such carnal thoughts. He put his spiritual armor in the closet months before because he didn't think he needed it any longer, and he learned the hard way that his flesh was still vulnerable.
We're all equally helpless against the devil when we have only our own strength to rely on. Just as a gazelle must eat daily if it's to keep up its strength to escape lions, we have to replenish our spiritual defenses daily through prayer and Scripture.
"But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:57).
The devil is a master when
It comes to craft and art,
For he can paint the blackest sin
To lure the purest heart.
The devil is a master of
Deceit and subtle change,
And he can take the truest love
And twist it for his gain.
The devil is a master who
Perverts each thing that's good:
Beware, or he may work on you
Like craftsmen carving wood.
The only way to dodge the plans
This master thief can weave:
Find strength in Christ, the Son of Man,
Who saves all who believe.
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
God's Glory Shines in Starlight
With Easter coming up next Sunday, most of us are thinking about the miraculous ways God reveals His glory. But how often do we notice when He reveals His glory on "ordinary" days? How often do most of us thank God for the sun or the air, without which our lives would end in minutes? How often do we consider that everyone we meet in the course of a day is a unique example of God's image?
And how often do we ignore the beauty of blue sky and birdsong, and of tiny wildflowers blooming within inches of our feet, as we trudge to work grumbling at the prospect of "another day of drudgery"?
When Jesus said He came "that [we might] have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10b), it's unlikely He meant only the perfection of the world beyond this one. Eternal life was meant to start with salvation, even when a person's earthly life lasts another eighty years. The reason many Christians are bored with the lives they have now is because they keep thinking in terms of "everything is either standout-spectacular or dull-ordinary."
Those who remember that with God everything is extraordinary never "outgrow" the childlike sense of wonder that sees the spectacular in "regular" things. The secret of "life to the full" is to constantly look for God's handiwork everywhere.
God's glory shines in starlight
And in the moon's soft gleam,
The sunrise and the sunset,
The rainbow's arching beam;
In every shining dewdrop
On spiderweb or tree,
God's glory is reflected
For all with eyes to see.
God's glory sings in splashes
Of every waterfall,
In every robin's music
And in the bullfrog's call;
In every running river
That dashes free and clear,
God's glory calls to listeners
Who have the ears to hear.
God's glory shows in kindness:
The outreach of a hand,
Soft words to the discouraged
From those who understand;
Each human act of mercy
Our God's compassion shows,
With visions of His glory
For every heart that knows.
And how often do we ignore the beauty of blue sky and birdsong, and of tiny wildflowers blooming within inches of our feet, as we trudge to work grumbling at the prospect of "another day of drudgery"?
When Jesus said He came "that [we might] have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10b), it's unlikely He meant only the perfection of the world beyond this one. Eternal life was meant to start with salvation, even when a person's earthly life lasts another eighty years. The reason many Christians are bored with the lives they have now is because they keep thinking in terms of "everything is either standout-spectacular or dull-ordinary."
Those who remember that with God everything is extraordinary never "outgrow" the childlike sense of wonder that sees the spectacular in "regular" things. The secret of "life to the full" is to constantly look for God's handiwork everywhere.
God's glory shines in starlight
And in the moon's soft gleam,
The sunrise and the sunset,
The rainbow's arching beam;
In every shining dewdrop
On spiderweb or tree,
God's glory is reflected
For all with eyes to see.
God's glory sings in splashes
Of every waterfall,
In every robin's music
And in the bullfrog's call;
In every running river
That dashes free and clear,
God's glory calls to listeners
Who have the ears to hear.
God's glory shows in kindness:
The outreach of a hand,
Soft words to the discouraged
From those who understand;
Each human act of mercy
Our God's compassion shows,
With visions of His glory
For every heart that knows.
Monday, November 2, 2009
As the Tree Stretches Toward the Heavens
Although we saw some heavy rains last week, Houston has now entered another period of glorious fall weather. As of Monday morning, I've hardly seen a cloud in three days.
In all their aspects—from the beautiful to the frightening to the inconspicuous to the delicate—those things without human makers stand among the best evidence of God's existence. Even in our overly urbanized society, we see enough of the sun and the rain, the flowers and the grass, the birds and the insects to confirm Paul's words in Rom. 1:19-20 (NIV): "what may be known about God is plain... because God has made it plain to [us]. For 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" for denying God's existence.
Not that they haven't tried. After all, a chance "big bang" and the blind processes of random selection are far less likely to make inconvenient demands on us than might a God with a mind and heart. If there is no personal God, we are free to do as we please—though we're quick enough to complain when, as Paul goes on to describe in Rom. 1:29-31, the effects of everyone else doing as he or she pleases start to look seriously ugly.
Others of us fail to give God the glory for Creation simply because we're "too busy" to pay attention to it. One much-quoted "prose poem" sometimes called "Letter from a Friend" (click here to read it) poignantly describes how much pain it must cause our Lord when we go about preoccupied with our human concerns, giving not a thought to the beauty with which He constantly surrounds us.
The Bible contains many references to Creation praising its Maker (see, for example, Ps. 69:34, Is. 55:12, and Lk. 19:40). May we who belong to Christ never be put to shame by trees and rocks.
As the tree stretches toward the heavens,
Pointing ever up toward the sky,
Let us lift up our hands in worship;
Let us give praise to God on High.
As the swallow soars through the heavens,
Swift and graceful as summer's wind,
Let us let our hearts soar in worship
Of the Lord on Whom we depend.
As the stars shine on in the heavens,
Glowing lovely and pure and bright,
Let us each be a sign of worship,
To show all of our world God's light.
In all their aspects—from the beautiful to the frightening to the inconspicuous to the delicate—those things without human makers stand among the best evidence of God's existence. Even in our overly urbanized society, we see enough of the sun and the rain, the flowers and the grass, the birds and the insects to confirm Paul's words in Rom. 1:19-20 (NIV): "what may be known about God is plain... because God has made it plain to [us]. For 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" for denying God's existence.
Not that they haven't tried. After all, a chance "big bang" and the blind processes of random selection are far less likely to make inconvenient demands on us than might a God with a mind and heart. If there is no personal God, we are free to do as we please—though we're quick enough to complain when, as Paul goes on to describe in Rom. 1:29-31, the effects of everyone else doing as he or she pleases start to look seriously ugly.
Others of us fail to give God the glory for Creation simply because we're "too busy" to pay attention to it. One much-quoted "prose poem" sometimes called "Letter from a Friend" (click here to read it) poignantly describes how much pain it must cause our Lord when we go about preoccupied with our human concerns, giving not a thought to the beauty with which He constantly surrounds us.
The Bible contains many references to Creation praising its Maker (see, for example, Ps. 69:34, Is. 55:12, and Lk. 19:40). May we who belong to Christ never be put to shame by trees and rocks.
As the tree stretches toward the heavens,
Pointing ever up toward the sky,
Let us lift up our hands in worship;
Let us give praise to God on High.
As the swallow soars through the heavens,
Swift and graceful as summer's wind,
Let us let our hearts soar in worship
Of the Lord on Whom we depend.
As the stars shine on in the heavens,
Glowing lovely and pure and bright,
Let us each be a sign of worship,
To show all of our world God's light.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Spot of Beauty
I don't follow the news much these days. I find it depressing and worrisome to be constantly reminded of what's going wrong in the world, and worse, of what else might go wrong. Perhaps those of you who pray for the world daily and specifically will criticize me, but I don't think every believer is emotionally equipped to be constantly on the front lines of that battle. Even in physical war, armies need quartermasters to handle the supplies, and chaplains to tend to spiritual needs, as well as fighting soldiers.
In or outside God's army, I know of many people who are positively addicted to the news. Few who spend much time in airports, restaurants, and similar venues will disagree that CNN is the most popular channel on televisions in public places. I doubt that many of the people staring at these screens are really praying about the tragedies depicted. More likely, the majority of viewers are feeding their fascination with disaster, or an addiction to information-gathering, or even a desperate search for reassurance that nothing awful will happen. I used to follow that last approach myself, but mostly I just found new excuses to worry.
Still, the news does have its bright spots: the sweepstakes winner who was living on a scanty Social Security check and yet gave every penny of her prize to those needier than herself; the youth counseling program credited with increasing high school graduation in its inner-city neighborhood by ten percent; the discovery of a new treatment for a long-feared disease. People aren't fascinated only by disaster and pain. They need regular doses of compassion and beauty as well.
As Christians we should be providing them with many of those doses. Jesus calls His followers to be lights displaying God's beauty to the world (see Mt. 5:14-16). And, just as stars are brightest on the darkest nights, often those spiritual lights shine the most beautifully where the world seems the most hopeless.
You may feel that your capabilities are small and that your light will never get brighter than a barely visible magnitude 6 star. But even the faintest star is a blazing sun at close range.
In a garden filled with weeds,
In a garden long untended,
One green shoot stood out alone,
In the days when winter ended.
In a spot sown by the wind,
In a spot so long neglected,
That one shoot grew straight and tall,
Like life’s beauty resurrected.
In a patch of tangled thorns,
Which no human hand had molded,
One white bud sprang from that shoot,
One white flower its bloom unfolded.
In that corner of neglect,
In that corner long forgotten,
Where it seemed all life was bleak,
Where it seemed all growth was rotten,
Sprang one pure and lovely bloom:
Though no human eye observed it,
Yet its beauty shone the more—
No competing rose obscured it.
So may we, within a world
Where love’s strength seems often feeble,
Be the lights that shine for hope,
Candles in our Lord's cathedral.
In or outside God's army, I know of many people who are positively addicted to the news. Few who spend much time in airports, restaurants, and similar venues will disagree that CNN is the most popular channel on televisions in public places. I doubt that many of the people staring at these screens are really praying about the tragedies depicted. More likely, the majority of viewers are feeding their fascination with disaster, or an addiction to information-gathering, or even a desperate search for reassurance that nothing awful will happen. I used to follow that last approach myself, but mostly I just found new excuses to worry.
Still, the news does have its bright spots: the sweepstakes winner who was living on a scanty Social Security check and yet gave every penny of her prize to those needier than herself; the youth counseling program credited with increasing high school graduation in its inner-city neighborhood by ten percent; the discovery of a new treatment for a long-feared disease. People aren't fascinated only by disaster and pain. They need regular doses of compassion and beauty as well.
As Christians we should be providing them with many of those doses. Jesus calls His followers to be lights displaying God's beauty to the world (see Mt. 5:14-16). And, just as stars are brightest on the darkest nights, often those spiritual lights shine the most beautifully where the world seems the most hopeless.
You may feel that your capabilities are small and that your light will never get brighter than a barely visible magnitude 6 star. But even the faintest star is a blazing sun at close range.
In a garden filled with weeds,
In a garden long untended,
One green shoot stood out alone,
In the days when winter ended.
In a spot sown by the wind,
In a spot so long neglected,
That one shoot grew straight and tall,
Like life’s beauty resurrected.
In a patch of tangled thorns,
Which no human hand had molded,
One white bud sprang from that shoot,
One white flower its bloom unfolded.
In that corner of neglect,
In that corner long forgotten,
Where it seemed all life was bleak,
Where it seemed all growth was rotten,
Sprang one pure and lovely bloom:
Though no human eye observed it,
Yet its beauty shone the more—
No competing rose obscured it.
So may we, within a world
Where love’s strength seems often feeble,
Be the lights that shine for hope,
Candles in our Lord's cathedral.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Seven Days of Creation
How's the weather where you are? Here in Houston, Texas, U. S. A., it's already feeling uncomfortably hot and sultry, notwithstanding that the official first day of summer is nearly two weeks away. In some parts of the world, it's nowhere close to summer, but in the chills of late autumn. Some people, no doubt, are dealing with drenching rains as I write this. And for others, early June means perfect outdoor weather: bright sunshine, fresh air, and temperatures just right for sitting in the park all day.
Human nature seems to carry an innate "get outside" urge. Weeks of rain or snow are major sources of restlessness and unpleasant moods. Every employer and teacher knows that keeping minds on inside work is far harder when gorgeous weather coincides with weekdays. And it's no secret that serious social problems and lack of green space frequently occur together in urban areas. Many commentators now recommend "nature therapy" of some sort to help cure physical and social ills.
It's not so surprising that something in us prefers the open outdoors to walled-in rooms, however luxurious the closed spaces may be within. Mere humans create the buildings; God Himself created the natural world. Our longing to "get close to nature" is really just another manifestation of our craving to fill the "God-shaped vacuum" within. Although technological and educational advances have improved life in many ways--including protecting us from some of the less pleasant aspects of a fallen Creation--we have also killed part of many human souls by shutting people away in worlds paved with concrete instead of wildflowers, lit with streetlights instead of stars.
Therein--more than in any dishonor to God from the way we interpret "days" in Genesis 1:1-2:3--lies the real spiritual danger in worshiping science.
On the first day of Creation our God made the light;
So let us all sing praises to His brilliant might.
On the next day of Creation our God made the sky;
So let us lift our praises to Him Who reigns high.
On the third day of Creation our God made the trees;
So let us all be fruitful for Him we must please.
On the fourth day of Creation our God made the sun;
So let us all burn bright for the All-Glorious One.
On the fifth day of Creation our God made the birds;
So let our mouths all open to fly forth His words.
On the sixth day of Creation our God made our race;
So let us love each other by power of His grace.
On the last day of Creation our God took His rest;
So let us rest within Him, to show we are blessed.
Human nature seems to carry an innate "get outside" urge. Weeks of rain or snow are major sources of restlessness and unpleasant moods. Every employer and teacher knows that keeping minds on inside work is far harder when gorgeous weather coincides with weekdays. And it's no secret that serious social problems and lack of green space frequently occur together in urban areas. Many commentators now recommend "nature therapy" of some sort to help cure physical and social ills.
It's not so surprising that something in us prefers the open outdoors to walled-in rooms, however luxurious the closed spaces may be within. Mere humans create the buildings; God Himself created the natural world. Our longing to "get close to nature" is really just another manifestation of our craving to fill the "God-shaped vacuum" within. Although technological and educational advances have improved life in many ways--including protecting us from some of the less pleasant aspects of a fallen Creation--we have also killed part of many human souls by shutting people away in worlds paved with concrete instead of wildflowers, lit with streetlights instead of stars.
Therein--more than in any dishonor to God from the way we interpret "days" in Genesis 1:1-2:3--lies the real spiritual danger in worshiping science.
On the first day of Creation our God made the light;
So let us all sing praises to His brilliant might.
On the next day of Creation our God made the sky;
So let us lift our praises to Him Who reigns high.
On the third day of Creation our God made the trees;
So let us all be fruitful for Him we must please.
On the fourth day of Creation our God made the sun;
So let us all burn bright for the All-Glorious One.
On the fifth day of Creation our God made the birds;
So let our mouths all open to fly forth His words.
On the sixth day of Creation our God made our race;
So let us love each other by power of His grace.
On the last day of Creation our God took His rest;
So let us rest within Him, to show we are blessed.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
All Earth Sings
What is your favorite song? A classic hymn? A modern pop piece? An old Christmas carol? I'd personally be hard-pressed to name a single favorite, or even make a top ten list. A lifetime of church music, radio, and various concerts has permanently imprinted dozens of much-loved songs in my brain.
Virtually every culture includes song among its traditions. There's something about the blending of music and poetry that infiltrates both sides of the brain and sinks deep into heart and soul. And for all the worries about "angry songs" that stir listeners to rebellious attitudes and outright violence, spontaneous singing is still associated primarily with happiness.
Of all the ways we reflect God's image, our love of song may be the most profound. Zeph. 3:17 (NIV) says that God "rejoice[s] over" us "with singing," so our longing to give the same to Him only makes sense. The NIV uses the word "sing" and its close derivatives (sang/singing/song) over three hundred times, mostly in reference to worship. Metaphorically speaking at least, even Creation sings, and not just through birds; even "the mountains and hills will burst into song" (Is. 55:12) when we open ourselves to our Lord's voice.
If we allow ourselves to regard God's works with the awe He deserves, we may soon find ourselves singing along.
The robin sings in the morning,
Sings to welcome the coming day:
All earth sings to the God of sunrise,
Who chases the darkness away.
The river sings in the daytime,
Sings as swiftly along it flows:
All earth sings to the God of sunlight,
As, shining, the waterway glows.
The breezes sing in the evening,
Calling workers to come and rest:
All earth sings to the God of sunset,
Who stretched out the sky east to west.
The raindrops sing in the nighttime,
Lulling all into peaceful sleep:
All earth sings to the God of Heaven,
Who soothes us when darkness grows deep.
The bluebird sings in the sunlight,
And the owl calls out to the moon:
All earth sings through the day- and nighttime--
And calls us to join in its tune.
Virtually every culture includes song among its traditions. There's something about the blending of music and poetry that infiltrates both sides of the brain and sinks deep into heart and soul. And for all the worries about "angry songs" that stir listeners to rebellious attitudes and outright violence, spontaneous singing is still associated primarily with happiness.
Of all the ways we reflect God's image, our love of song may be the most profound. Zeph. 3:17 (NIV) says that God "rejoice[s] over" us "with singing," so our longing to give the same to Him only makes sense. The NIV uses the word "sing" and its close derivatives (sang/singing/song) over three hundred times, mostly in reference to worship. Metaphorically speaking at least, even Creation sings, and not just through birds; even "the mountains and hills will burst into song" (Is. 55:12) when we open ourselves to our Lord's voice.
If we allow ourselves to regard God's works with the awe He deserves, we may soon find ourselves singing along.
The robin sings in the morning,
Sings to welcome the coming day:
All earth sings to the God of sunrise,
Who chases the darkness away.
The river sings in the daytime,
Sings as swiftly along it flows:
All earth sings to the God of sunlight,
As, shining, the waterway glows.
The breezes sing in the evening,
Calling workers to come and rest:
All earth sings to the God of sunset,
Who stretched out the sky east to west.
The raindrops sing in the nighttime,
Lulling all into peaceful sleep:
All earth sings to the God of Heaven,
Who soothes us when darkness grows deep.
The bluebird sings in the sunlight,
And the owl calls out to the moon:
All earth sings through the day- and nighttime--
And calls us to join in its tune.
Friday, September 26, 2008
My Heart Sings
Hopefully this is the last update I'll have to post on the power outage here. The electricity came back about 12:50 this afternoon.
Hopefully, also, those of us Houstonians who have or soon will have our service restored won't use it as an excuse to hide behind air-conditioned walls watching television and surfing the Internet, at the expense of enjoying the autumn weather that is just settling in. Anyone who has ever sweated through a Gulf Coast summer knows the arrival of a cooler season as one of God's greatest blessings. Standing under a cloudless sky on a crisp blue day, hair ruffled by a breeze carrying just a hint of chill, watching a kettle (flock) of migrating hawks soaring southward on the high winds, is one of life's finest pleasures.
The natural world in its full glory has inspired many a great hymn. A favorite of mine is "How Great Thou Art," which praises God not only for His marvelous Creation, but also for the greater wonders of redemption--not only of our individual souls, but eventually of the whole natural order.
After His full Kingdom comes, every day will be infinitely more beautiful than the present world's most colorful autumn day.
When I think of all of the wonders of Creation,
Of the stars that stretch beyond any mortal view,
And of the birds with their songs and gleaming feathers,
Of the sea and the sunrise and the sky so blue,
My heart sings
In its joy to behold God's glory;
My heart sings
In its wonder to know God's love;
My heart sings
As I think of His deeds of mercy,
All the treasures that come forth from the Lord above.
When I think of how our God became a mortal,
How He suffered and then died to redeem the lost,
How He spilled His blood for the sake of those who despised Him,
And found the most contemptible fate worth the cost,
My heart sings
In its joy to behold God's glory;
My heart sings
In its wonder to know God's love;
My heart sings
As I think of His deeds of mercy,
All the treasures that come forth from the Lord above.
When I think of the coming day that the Lord has promised,
When all pain and tears and death will dissolve and be no more,
When our God at last shall perfect us, as He is perfect,
And we all shall forever live on His holy shore,
My heart sings
In its joy to behold God's glory;
My heart sings
In its wonder to know God's love;
My heart sings
As I think of His deeds of mercy,
All the treasures that come forth from the Lord above.
Hopefully, also, those of us Houstonians who have or soon will have our service restored won't use it as an excuse to hide behind air-conditioned walls watching television and surfing the Internet, at the expense of enjoying the autumn weather that is just settling in. Anyone who has ever sweated through a Gulf Coast summer knows the arrival of a cooler season as one of God's greatest blessings. Standing under a cloudless sky on a crisp blue day, hair ruffled by a breeze carrying just a hint of chill, watching a kettle (flock) of migrating hawks soaring southward on the high winds, is one of life's finest pleasures.
The natural world in its full glory has inspired many a great hymn. A favorite of mine is "How Great Thou Art," which praises God not only for His marvelous Creation, but also for the greater wonders of redemption--not only of our individual souls, but eventually of the whole natural order.
After His full Kingdom comes, every day will be infinitely more beautiful than the present world's most colorful autumn day.
When I think of all of the wonders of Creation,
Of the stars that stretch beyond any mortal view,
And of the birds with their songs and gleaming feathers,
Of the sea and the sunrise and the sky so blue,
My heart sings
In its joy to behold God's glory;
My heart sings
In its wonder to know God's love;
My heart sings
As I think of His deeds of mercy,
All the treasures that come forth from the Lord above.
When I think of how our God became a mortal,
How He suffered and then died to redeem the lost,
How He spilled His blood for the sake of those who despised Him,
And found the most contemptible fate worth the cost,
My heart sings
In its joy to behold God's glory;
My heart sings
In its wonder to know God's love;
My heart sings
As I think of His deeds of mercy,
All the treasures that come forth from the Lord above.
When I think of the coming day that the Lord has promised,
When all pain and tears and death will dissolve and be no more,
When our God at last shall perfect us, as He is perfect,
And we all shall forever live on His holy shore,
My heart sings
In its joy to behold God's glory;
My heart sings
In its wonder to know God's love;
My heart sings
As I think of His deeds of mercy,
All the treasures that come forth from the Lord above.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
The Rattling Song
If you're a homeowner, chances are you like a well-groomed yard, free of such "eyesores" as dead trees. But many nature lovers sigh in regret when a "useless" snag is removed--because many birds depend on old treeholes for nesting.
One family of birds makes its own holes. There are nearly two dozen species of woodpeckers in the U. S. and Canada, and most of them prefer dead trees to live ones for digging out nesting places and tasty insects. Some woodpecker species regularly seek out whole tracts of dead trees, usually remains left by forest fires.
The woodpecker is not much of a songbird--most species simply rattle or squeak--but it is still a welcome friend in backyards and parks. There's something bright and cheerful about these industrious birds, marked in various striking patterns of black, white, red, and yellow, working their way up and around the tree trunks, as busy on gray days and in patches of dead trees as when the sky is clear and the woods full of fresh greenery.
We as humans are supposedly much smarter than birds, but there are times we could learn from them. Too often we look at the "dead trees" of our lives--ruined plans and shattered dreams--and sit down in despair, convinced that all hope is lost and no good will ever come from the remains, never hearing God whispering that He has wonderful gifts buried in the ruins for us--if only we will get to work and dig for them.
Only then will we fully appreciate Paul's words in Romans 8:28 (NIV): "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
In a burnt-out forest where all seemed black,
On a snag in a pile of peat,
A woodpecker sporting a bright red cap
Perched and drilled for an insect treat.
He cared not a bit that the world was ash
For a dozen square miles around;
He tossed back his head with a rattling call,
And the acreage rang with the sound.
He slid up the trunk of the fresh-burned tree,
Which would never again stand tall,
Yet as he dug out food from the remnant bark,
He sang out with a joyous call.
Times come to us all when the world seems black,
Like burnt woods with no trace of green,
When horizons around are all cloaked in clouds,
And all desolate ground between,
And we have not the voice nor the heart to sing,
But can rattle a bit at best--
Yet a rattle may hold some deep hidden joy,
If we choose to withstand the test.
So consider the bird with the rattling voice,
But the jaunty red cap and strong bill--
Even when all the trees of our lives seem dead,
They may hold hidden treasures still.
One family of birds makes its own holes. There are nearly two dozen species of woodpeckers in the U. S. and Canada, and most of them prefer dead trees to live ones for digging out nesting places and tasty insects. Some woodpecker species regularly seek out whole tracts of dead trees, usually remains left by forest fires.
The woodpecker is not much of a songbird--most species simply rattle or squeak--but it is still a welcome friend in backyards and parks. There's something bright and cheerful about these industrious birds, marked in various striking patterns of black, white, red, and yellow, working their way up and around the tree trunks, as busy on gray days and in patches of dead trees as when the sky is clear and the woods full of fresh greenery.
We as humans are supposedly much smarter than birds, but there are times we could learn from them. Too often we look at the "dead trees" of our lives--ruined plans and shattered dreams--and sit down in despair, convinced that all hope is lost and no good will ever come from the remains, never hearing God whispering that He has wonderful gifts buried in the ruins for us--if only we will get to work and dig for them.
Only then will we fully appreciate Paul's words in Romans 8:28 (NIV): "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
In a burnt-out forest where all seemed black,
On a snag in a pile of peat,
A woodpecker sporting a bright red cap
Perched and drilled for an insect treat.
He cared not a bit that the world was ash
For a dozen square miles around;
He tossed back his head with a rattling call,
And the acreage rang with the sound.
He slid up the trunk of the fresh-burned tree,
Which would never again stand tall,
Yet as he dug out food from the remnant bark,
He sang out with a joyous call.
Times come to us all when the world seems black,
Like burnt woods with no trace of green,
When horizons around are all cloaked in clouds,
And all desolate ground between,
And we have not the voice nor the heart to sing,
But can rattle a bit at best--
Yet a rattle may hold some deep hidden joy,
If we choose to withstand the test.
So consider the bird with the rattling voice,
But the jaunty red cap and strong bill--
Even when all the trees of our lives seem dead,
They may hold hidden treasures still.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Consider the Birds
Tomorrow is my birthday--and celebration plans include a day off from work (easy for the self-employed to arrange); dining out; and bird watching.
No doubt someone will read that last item and think, "That's your idea of a celebration? Getting dirty, wearing yourself out, being mobbed by bugs, maybe getting drenched by a rainstorm?" (Judging from the latest weather report, the latter may be a real likelihood.) There are plenty of people whose idea of celebration is purely formal and climate-controlled.
On the other hand, there are plenty of "hard core" birders who would call me a wimp because I prefer well-laid-out trails with easy access to working plumbing--as opposed to sloshing through marshes, bushwhacking through thorns, and sleeping in the wilderness. But insofar as the general respectability of bird watching is concerned, both they and I can claim Biblical support for the pastime. Didn't Jesus Himself say, "Look at the birds of the air" (Mt. 6:26a, NIV) as object lessons of God's concern for Creation--and for us?
Though birds have their moments of panic in times of real danger, they don't spend their idle times fuming and fretting over whether there will be enough berries on the trees when winter comes in eight months. They don't ruffle their feathers over habitat destruction, global warming, or other threats they can't personally do anything about. They just go on surviving on God's daily provision.
However--and this should keep us from becoming passive about the confidence God will supply our basic needs--birds, once out of the nest, don't sit waiting for food to be dropped into their mouths. They keep busy--very busy--gathering it. (The old saying "eat like a bird" is about as misleading as it can get; birds eat considerably more for their size than the most gluttonous human could ever come close to.) St. Paul, in 2 Thess. 3:6-13, warned against expecting others to feed us. To paraphrase: If we are too lazy to do the work we are suited for and capable of doing, we deserve to starve.
But, work or play, we must never forget the key principle: "Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" (1 Cor. 10:31b). Literally everything we undertake should be done in an attitude of thanksgiving and praise to Him.
Not least the times we spend drinking in the beauty of Creation and the songs of the birds.
(For a great modern theologian's perspective on bird watching as it relates to Christian living, check out John Stott's book The Birds Our Teachers.)
The waxwing has feasts of berries,
And the hawk has its daily meat;
The hummingbird has its nectar,
And the cardinal has seeds to eat;
Not one of them frets uneasy
Over fear for tomorrow's feed:
So let us, whom God loves even more than birds,
Have faith He will provide for need.
The flycatcher hunts from branches,
And the egret fishes the stream;
The woodpecker drills in tree trunks,
And the goldfinch plucks thistles clean;
Each one, from its time of fledging,
Works all day for the meals it's fed:
So let us see well to the work of our Lord,
For the idle deserve no bread.
The sparrow, at time of eating,
Lifts its head to the sky with each bite;
The mockingbird sings in the springtime,
With its tune heard through day and night;
Though birds are still far beneath us,
God's own glory shines through their ways:
So let us give God thanks for each daily meal
And continue to sing His praise.
No doubt someone will read that last item and think, "That's your idea of a celebration? Getting dirty, wearing yourself out, being mobbed by bugs, maybe getting drenched by a rainstorm?" (Judging from the latest weather report, the latter may be a real likelihood.) There are plenty of people whose idea of celebration is purely formal and climate-controlled.
On the other hand, there are plenty of "hard core" birders who would call me a wimp because I prefer well-laid-out trails with easy access to working plumbing--as opposed to sloshing through marshes, bushwhacking through thorns, and sleeping in the wilderness. But insofar as the general respectability of bird watching is concerned, both they and I can claim Biblical support for the pastime. Didn't Jesus Himself say, "Look at the birds of the air" (Mt. 6:26a, NIV) as object lessons of God's concern for Creation--and for us?
Though birds have their moments of panic in times of real danger, they don't spend their idle times fuming and fretting over whether there will be enough berries on the trees when winter comes in eight months. They don't ruffle their feathers over habitat destruction, global warming, or other threats they can't personally do anything about. They just go on surviving on God's daily provision.
However--and this should keep us from becoming passive about the confidence God will supply our basic needs--birds, once out of the nest, don't sit waiting for food to be dropped into their mouths. They keep busy--very busy--gathering it. (The old saying "eat like a bird" is about as misleading as it can get; birds eat considerably more for their size than the most gluttonous human could ever come close to.) St. Paul, in 2 Thess. 3:6-13, warned against expecting others to feed us. To paraphrase: If we are too lazy to do the work we are suited for and capable of doing, we deserve to starve.
But, work or play, we must never forget the key principle: "Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" (1 Cor. 10:31b). Literally everything we undertake should be done in an attitude of thanksgiving and praise to Him.
Not least the times we spend drinking in the beauty of Creation and the songs of the birds.
(For a great modern theologian's perspective on bird watching as it relates to Christian living, check out John Stott's book The Birds Our Teachers.)
The waxwing has feasts of berries,
And the hawk has its daily meat;
The hummingbird has its nectar,
And the cardinal has seeds to eat;
Not one of them frets uneasy
Over fear for tomorrow's feed:
So let us, whom God loves even more than birds,
Have faith He will provide for need.
The flycatcher hunts from branches,
And the egret fishes the stream;
The woodpecker drills in tree trunks,
And the goldfinch plucks thistles clean;
Each one, from its time of fledging,
Works all day for the meals it's fed:
So let us see well to the work of our Lord,
For the idle deserve no bread.
The sparrow, at time of eating,
Lifts its head to the sky with each bite;
The mockingbird sings in the springtime,
With its tune heard through day and night;
Though birds are still far beneath us,
God's own glory shines through their ways:
So let us give God thanks for each daily meal
And continue to sing His praise.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Alone with God
Picking up on yesterday's discussion of time alone with God, I think it's worth emphasizing that we don't "find" time to build relationships with God or anyone else; we make the time. We in the twenty-first-century United States are frequently tempted to blame it for our free-time deficits: no one who lived three hundred years ago had to worry about keeping a Web site up to date, commuting fifty miles to work, or reading a hundred magazines and newly published books each year.
Granted that the time-off problem was once more a matter of fewer things taking longer to do (and most of us have moments when we'd gladly take that situation in exchange for the frenzied speed at which today's unlimited options assault our brains), the issue of people being "too busy for God" must have been common even in Moses's day. Why else would God have included "take a weekly day off" in the Ten Commandments?
An outdoor retreat, incidentally, has two key advantages: human-originated distractions are limited, and reminders of God as Creator are everywhere. Jesus Himself told us to meditate on the birds and the wildflowers as means of directing our thoughts to God. The ancients were stirred to worship through observing the animals, the stars, and the whole of nature.
Even if all the "nature" you have access to is a neighborhood park with two trees and one bench, we owe it to God to at least get away from home and business (where reminders of upcoming tasks surround us on every side) once in a while. Unless we learn to forget about "all I have to do" long enough to concentrate on God, we may never hear Him telling us what we really should be doing.
I set aside my hopes and fears,
My struggles in life's daily fray,
My aches and pains and all my tears,
And all my dread of coming years,
To be alone with God today.
I left the city's noisy roar,
And went where nature reigns supreme--
Where birds are free to sing and soar,
And chattering squirrels are heard, and more--
To sit alone with God and dream.
The Lord of all is patience pure:
He rarely shouts above the crowd,
But will our base neglect endure
Until life's stress becomes so sure
We come alone to Him, heads bowed.
For only then, in quietness,
With no clock's tick to tempt the ear,
Can we be free for Him to bless,
And speak His words of loveliness--
Alone with God, where we can hear.
Then only can we truly pray
In reverence and humility,
And worship Him as best we may,
And yield to Him each coming day--
Then only are we truly free.
Today I sat with God alone,
From sunrise till the west grew red,
Then turned, refreshed, my path toward home,
Heart filled with heavenly music's tone,
And strengthened for the days ahead.
Granted that the time-off problem was once more a matter of fewer things taking longer to do (and most of us have moments when we'd gladly take that situation in exchange for the frenzied speed at which today's unlimited options assault our brains), the issue of people being "too busy for God" must have been common even in Moses's day. Why else would God have included "take a weekly day off" in the Ten Commandments?
An outdoor retreat, incidentally, has two key advantages: human-originated distractions are limited, and reminders of God as Creator are everywhere. Jesus Himself told us to meditate on the birds and the wildflowers as means of directing our thoughts to God. The ancients were stirred to worship through observing the animals, the stars, and the whole of nature.
Even if all the "nature" you have access to is a neighborhood park with two trees and one bench, we owe it to God to at least get away from home and business (where reminders of upcoming tasks surround us on every side) once in a while. Unless we learn to forget about "all I have to do" long enough to concentrate on God, we may never hear Him telling us what we really should be doing.
I set aside my hopes and fears,
My struggles in life's daily fray,
My aches and pains and all my tears,
And all my dread of coming years,
To be alone with God today.
I left the city's noisy roar,
And went where nature reigns supreme--
Where birds are free to sing and soar,
And chattering squirrels are heard, and more--
To sit alone with God and dream.
The Lord of all is patience pure:
He rarely shouts above the crowd,
But will our base neglect endure
Until life's stress becomes so sure
We come alone to Him, heads bowed.
For only then, in quietness,
With no clock's tick to tempt the ear,
Can we be free for Him to bless,
And speak His words of loveliness--
Alone with God, where we can hear.
Then only can we truly pray
In reverence and humility,
And worship Him as best we may,
And yield to Him each coming day--
Then only are we truly free.
Today I sat with God alone,
From sunrise till the west grew red,
Then turned, refreshed, my path toward home,
Heart filled with heavenly music's tone,
And strengthened for the days ahead.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Sing to Me, O Mockingbird
Here in south Texas, the birds rarely wait until spring--or even March--to begin their mating songs. Indeed, some of our year-round residents have already been at it for a couple of weeks.
The cardinal is a beautiful bird and a fine singer, but the Texas emblem--the mockingbird--puts on the best show. Mockingbirds imitate every other song in the neighborhood, their constant jumping from tune to tune being the only sure way to identify them by their voices. At the height of spring ardor, mockingbirds sing almost 24/7 (they have been known to keep people awake at night); and they "dance," too, constantly bouncing into the air from their perches as if to say, "Look at me! Look at me!"
Ornithologists say that birds sing for purely practical reasons--to attract mates and establish territorial borders--but it's hard to hear the music and not believe that God's feathered musicians are also expressing joy in just being alive. "The winter is past... Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come" (Song of Solomon 2:11-12, NIV). All praises to God, Who renews life, Whom even the oceans, the trees, and the rocks find worthy of praise (see 1 Chronicles 16:32-33; Luke 19:37-40).
Sing to me, O mockingbird:
Sing me a song of God's gifts to the world.
Sing of the trees and their budding leaves;
Sing of fresh air and the gentle breeze.
Sing of the flowers in brilliant shades;
Sing of the frost and its silver glaze.
Sing of the sea where the dolphins play,
Of gulls soaring over a turquoise bay.
Sing of the sun in April skies,
Of bright blue days under Heaven's eyes,
When the chill of winter has finally gone
And the heat of summer still lies beyond.
Sing of bright warblers flitting through
Fresh-budding trees, flashing yellow hue;
Sing of the bluebirds with bright red breasts,
And the meadowlark in its golden vest.
Sing of the moon in each glowing phase,
Bouncing off silver and pure white rays;
Sing of the stars on a country night,
Blazing in endless jewels of light.
Sing to me, O mockingbird:
Sing me a song of God's gifts to the world.
The cardinal is a beautiful bird and a fine singer, but the Texas emblem--the mockingbird--puts on the best show. Mockingbirds imitate every other song in the neighborhood, their constant jumping from tune to tune being the only sure way to identify them by their voices. At the height of spring ardor, mockingbirds sing almost 24/7 (they have been known to keep people awake at night); and they "dance," too, constantly bouncing into the air from their perches as if to say, "Look at me! Look at me!"
Ornithologists say that birds sing for purely practical reasons--to attract mates and establish territorial borders--but it's hard to hear the music and not believe that God's feathered musicians are also expressing joy in just being alive. "The winter is past... Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come" (Song of Solomon 2:11-12, NIV). All praises to God, Who renews life, Whom even the oceans, the trees, and the rocks find worthy of praise (see 1 Chronicles 16:32-33; Luke 19:37-40).
Sing to me, O mockingbird:
Sing me a song of God's gifts to the world.
Sing of the trees and their budding leaves;
Sing of fresh air and the gentle breeze.
Sing of the flowers in brilliant shades;
Sing of the frost and its silver glaze.
Sing of the sea where the dolphins play,
Of gulls soaring over a turquoise bay.
Sing of the sun in April skies,
Of bright blue days under Heaven's eyes,
When the chill of winter has finally gone
And the heat of summer still lies beyond.
Sing of bright warblers flitting through
Fresh-budding trees, flashing yellow hue;
Sing of the bluebirds with bright red breasts,
And the meadowlark in its golden vest.
Sing of the moon in each glowing phase,
Bouncing off silver and pure white rays;
Sing of the stars on a country night,
Blazing in endless jewels of light.
Sing to me, O mockingbird:
Sing me a song of God's gifts to the world.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Stars and Pebbles
"I will... make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore," God promised Abraham centuries ago (Gen. 22:17, NIV). The implications of that promise may go even deeper than foretelling Abraham's spiritual descendants. Stars are among the largest objects in the physical universe; grains of sand are among the smallest objects in the visible world. Our God is not only powerful enough to exercise His will over the universe, but thorough enough to pay attention to the tiniest detail.
Often we wonder why God calls relatively few Christians to be eloquent preachers, famous authors, and wealthy philanthropists. Surely we could win the world faster, if only there were more of us capable of real impact? But while thousands may be "converted" through a TV broadcast, the most sincere and committed Christians are usually won and discipled by the up-close-and-personal faith of relatives and acquaintances. As St. Paul wrote, "Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.... so that no one may boast before him.... those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor" (1 Cor. 1:26-27, 29; 12:22-23).
When tempted to be jealous of fellow Christians' "dynamic" gifts, we should remember two things:
1. What matters is not for us to do great deeds, but for God to do great deeds through us.
2. Only God has the wisdom--and the right--to define which deeds are ultimately great.
If we truly want to do God's will, we should be pleased to do it His way.
The stars of heaven, small to our eyes,
Are blazing giants of enormous size.
The stones of earth, small at our feet,
Together could pave every city street.
The gifts of God, which some disdain,
Fall thicker than heaven's drops of rain;
Like stars and stones, which none can count,
His blessings flow in untold amount.
All that we have comes from above;
The tiniest talent's bestowed in love.
Do not despise your gift as small:
God's wisdom and power supply us all.
Often we wonder why God calls relatively few Christians to be eloquent preachers, famous authors, and wealthy philanthropists. Surely we could win the world faster, if only there were more of us capable of real impact? But while thousands may be "converted" through a TV broadcast, the most sincere and committed Christians are usually won and discipled by the up-close-and-personal faith of relatives and acquaintances. As St. Paul wrote, "Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.... so that no one may boast before him.... those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor" (1 Cor. 1:26-27, 29; 12:22-23).
When tempted to be jealous of fellow Christians' "dynamic" gifts, we should remember two things:
1. What matters is not for us to do great deeds, but for God to do great deeds through us.
2. Only God has the wisdom--and the right--to define which deeds are ultimately great.
If we truly want to do God's will, we should be pleased to do it His way.
The stars of heaven, small to our eyes,
Are blazing giants of enormous size.
The stones of earth, small at our feet,
Together could pave every city street.
The gifts of God, which some disdain,
Fall thicker than heaven's drops of rain;
Like stars and stones, which none can count,
His blessings flow in untold amount.
All that we have comes from above;
The tiniest talent's bestowed in love.
Do not despise your gift as small:
God's wisdom and power supply us all.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Look to the Stars
We live in troubled and uncertain times. That's been true for so long that it's become a cliche. Today we worry about terrorism, global warming, and hurricanes. A generation ago everyone was afraid of Communism and nuclear war. The generation before that had the Great Depression and World War II... and so on back to the day Adam and Eve left the Garden. "The days are evil" (Eph. 5:16, NIV), wrote St. Paul in the time of the Roman Empire. "The faithful have vanished from among men" (Ps. 12:1), lamented David centuries before Paul. Always, it seems, those who try to live godly lives are tormented by the knowledge that the world is far from righteous--and that real catastrophe could strike any day.
But it doesn't take as big a specter as worldwide holocaust to make a life troubled and uncertain. It can be something on a much smaller scale: a diagnosis of cancer, the sudden death of a spouse, the loss of a job. Such things, which go unnoticed by all but the handful of people who are directly affected by them, can seem like the end of the world to that handful.
When life's uncertainty is shoving itself straight into our faces, it helps if we can put things in perspective by meditating on the One Who never changes--and also on the less changeable things He has created. Generations age and die, but so far the sun still rises every morning, birds still sing in the springtime, and the ocean continues to wash the seashore. The bereaved and hurting have always felt comfort and consolation through nature, as have soldiers at war, expatriates, and the imprisoned and persecuted.
Despite secular predictions of a world covered in concrete, I like to think that up to the coming of the new, perfected heavens and earth, God will make sure some remnant of his natural creation is always available to humanity, through which we can contemplate His power and love.
When all around seems dark
And you can hardly find a soul
On earth who seems worth your trusting,
When your light is going dim
And everything seems out of control:
Raise your head up;
Look to the God of heaven;
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Look to the stars,
Tiny lights in the darkness,
Often hid in earth's dazzle,
Yet above all our troubles
They shine on.
When the whole world seems mad
And you can hardly find a soul
On earth who seems uncorrupted,
When your mind spins wildly on
And everything seems out of control:
Lift up your eyes;
Look to the great Creator;
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Look to the sea:
Few have seen what's beneath it;
Some never see the coastline,
Yet above most of this planet
It rolls on.
When the whole world seems lost
And you can hardly find a soul
On earth who shows signs of caring,
When your heart is growing faint
And everything seems out of control:
Open your heart;
Look to the God of mercy;
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Think of the wind:
No human eye can see it;
No human hand can hold it,
Yet through earth's trials and battles
It blows on.
Pray to the Lord:
Praise Father, Son, and Spirit:
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Look to our God:
And when your life is ended,
When no one else can hold you,
He will remain beside to
Bring you home.
But it doesn't take as big a specter as worldwide holocaust to make a life troubled and uncertain. It can be something on a much smaller scale: a diagnosis of cancer, the sudden death of a spouse, the loss of a job. Such things, which go unnoticed by all but the handful of people who are directly affected by them, can seem like the end of the world to that handful.
When life's uncertainty is shoving itself straight into our faces, it helps if we can put things in perspective by meditating on the One Who never changes--and also on the less changeable things He has created. Generations age and die, but so far the sun still rises every morning, birds still sing in the springtime, and the ocean continues to wash the seashore. The bereaved and hurting have always felt comfort and consolation through nature, as have soldiers at war, expatriates, and the imprisoned and persecuted.
Despite secular predictions of a world covered in concrete, I like to think that up to the coming of the new, perfected heavens and earth, God will make sure some remnant of his natural creation is always available to humanity, through which we can contemplate His power and love.
When all around seems dark
And you can hardly find a soul
On earth who seems worth your trusting,
When your light is going dim
And everything seems out of control:
Raise your head up;
Look to the God of heaven;
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Look to the stars,
Tiny lights in the darkness,
Often hid in earth's dazzle,
Yet above all our troubles
They shine on.
When the whole world seems mad
And you can hardly find a soul
On earth who seems uncorrupted,
When your mind spins wildly on
And everything seems out of control:
Lift up your eyes;
Look to the great Creator;
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Look to the sea:
Few have seen what's beneath it;
Some never see the coastline,
Yet above most of this planet
It rolls on.
When the whole world seems lost
And you can hardly find a soul
On earth who shows signs of caring,
When your heart is growing faint
And everything seems out of control:
Open your heart;
Look to the God of mercy;
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Think of the wind:
No human eye can see it;
No human hand can hold it,
Yet through earth's trials and battles
It blows on.
Pray to the Lord:
Praise Father, Son, and Spirit:
Look to the One
Who promised He would never leave you alone:
Look to our God:
And when your life is ended,
When no one else can hold you,
He will remain beside to
Bring you home.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
God Made the Birds
For the first two or three decades after pollution became a concern, Christianity and environmentalism were generally seen as antagonists. Christians charged that environmentalism bordered on pantheism by promoting the idea that all species were created equal; environmentalists claimed that Christianity, drawing on the Genesis 1:28 command to "subdue" the earth, considered it a God-given right to destroy the natural world at will.
Fortunately (though it is probably unfortunate that so many waited until the problems were too big to deny), most Christians now realize that the natural world, like all God's gifts, comes with great responsibilities attached. (I recommend Tony Campolo's 1992 book, How to Rescue the Earth without Worshiping Nature, for a readable early view of Christian environmentalism.) God never intended for us to "beat nature into shape" by crushing everything that stood in the way of our desires. He calls us to use the world's resources frugally so enough will be left for future generations' needs, and to realize that those needs (take it from a dedicated birder) include the enjoyment of nature for its own sake.
God made nothing without a purpose. He reserved the highest purposes for humanity: since the first days of Adam (Gen. 2:15), it has been our duty to take care of the rest of the world.
God made the birds to fly and sing;
God made the flowers to bloom in spring;
God made the trees to give us shade--
And us to care for all else He made.
God made all things to have their part:
The dragonfly to swoop and dart,
The wolf to howl and bats for flight--
And us to help His whole world run right.
We stewards are of all God gives,
Protectors we of all that lives,
All ours to use, but not destroy:
Only that used right brings lasting joy.
May all the lessons of our past
Purge us of greed, until, at last,
We find the beauty of Creation
Brought into balance with civilization.
Fortunately (though it is probably unfortunate that so many waited until the problems were too big to deny), most Christians now realize that the natural world, like all God's gifts, comes with great responsibilities attached. (I recommend Tony Campolo's 1992 book, How to Rescue the Earth without Worshiping Nature, for a readable early view of Christian environmentalism.) God never intended for us to "beat nature into shape" by crushing everything that stood in the way of our desires. He calls us to use the world's resources frugally so enough will be left for future generations' needs, and to realize that those needs (take it from a dedicated birder) include the enjoyment of nature for its own sake.
God made nothing without a purpose. He reserved the highest purposes for humanity: since the first days of Adam (Gen. 2:15), it has been our duty to take care of the rest of the world.
God made the birds to fly and sing;
God made the flowers to bloom in spring;
God made the trees to give us shade--
And us to care for all else He made.
God made all things to have their part:
The dragonfly to swoop and dart,
The wolf to howl and bats for flight--
And us to help His whole world run right.
We stewards are of all God gives,
Protectors we of all that lives,
All ours to use, but not destroy:
Only that used right brings lasting joy.
May all the lessons of our past
Purge us of greed, until, at last,
We find the beauty of Creation
Brought into balance with civilization.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Song of the Seasons
"Heaven must be a wonderful place," said the child, "because even the wrong side is so pretty." Anyone who has ever counted stars on a clear country night; or seen a brilliant rainbow, sunrise, or sunset; or drunk in a cloudless day of just the right temperature (especially at the end of a sweltering summer or frigid winter), would agree.
Since Advent began yesterday, today's poem is in the style of a traditional Christmas carol. Therefore, it starts the four seasons with winter and a snow-filled sky. Now, I'm well aware that the holidays don't mean snow for everyone. As a Houstonian, I can even after living thirty-eight Christmases count the white ones I have seen and have fingers left over; but so what? Bible scholars agree that it probably wasn't snowing, or even winter, on the night Jesus was actually born either. Yet, taken as a metaphor, a snow-covered landscape seems such a fitting backdrop for the Christmas story: stark, bare, virtually lifeless, yet strangely pure and beautiful--inviting and forbidding at the same time. What better setting for the coming of the One Who takes cold, lifeless hearts and makes them fresh and pristine?
The winter sky shines silver when the snow starts to fall,
And God sent forth a Savior to die for us all.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
The springtime sky shines bluer than the waves of the sea,
And God sent forth a Savior to set us all free.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
The summer sky shines golden at the dawning of day,
And God sent forth a Savior to show us the Way.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
The autumn sky shines crimson when the sun starts to set,
And God gave us His Scriptures that we might not forget.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
Since Advent began yesterday, today's poem is in the style of a traditional Christmas carol. Therefore, it starts the four seasons with winter and a snow-filled sky. Now, I'm well aware that the holidays don't mean snow for everyone. As a Houstonian, I can even after living thirty-eight Christmases count the white ones I have seen and have fingers left over; but so what? Bible scholars agree that it probably wasn't snowing, or even winter, on the night Jesus was actually born either. Yet, taken as a metaphor, a snow-covered landscape seems such a fitting backdrop for the Christmas story: stark, bare, virtually lifeless, yet strangely pure and beautiful--inviting and forbidding at the same time. What better setting for the coming of the One Who takes cold, lifeless hearts and makes them fresh and pristine?
The winter sky shines silver when the snow starts to fall,
And God sent forth a Savior to die for us all.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
The springtime sky shines bluer than the waves of the sea,
And God sent forth a Savior to set us all free.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
The summer sky shines golden at the dawning of day,
And God sent forth a Savior to show us the Way.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
The autumn sky shines crimson when the sun starts to set,
And God gave us His Scriptures that we might not forget.
And God sent forth a Savior to show us His love,
Who still pours forth His blessing from the sky up above.
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