Mercy in the Downhills
A friend told me recently that the way we view nature is generally the way we view God. I think this can be true in broad senses.
My favorite thing about nature is not how beautiful it is, although it is beautiful, or how many varieties of plants there are, although it's pretty amazing. My favorite thing about nature is that it's steady. It takes hundreds, thousands, millions of years to change. And no matter what is going on in my head, or my life, or my relationships, nature is the same today as it was yesterday. Radnor Lake and the trails at Chickasaw and the Swiss Alps are going to outlive me. They put me in my place. They put my emotions and my chaos in their place.
And I guess that's my favorite thing about God, too. He's not going anywhere.
I remember a quote someone put on Facebook once that said nature is not malicious and harsh like we sometimes think, but it's also not beneficent. Nature is simply indifferent. Indifferent to our plight, our struggle to survive. And we can't call things like hurricanes and avalanches evil because nature is just nature, just doing what it does, indifferent.
I suppose that rings of truth, and I suppose whoever originally said that quote (which I can't remember verbatim but embellished for you anyway) is right. But what if that is the way someone out there views God? What if when someone thinks of God the word "indifferent" comes to mind?
I thought about this while I was trail running today, along the Duck River and over rocks and dirt, through the woods of middle Tennessee. And I remembered how nature is indifferent, but for the life of me I couldn't believe it.
The trees that shade my eyes from the bright afternoon sun. The dirt holding my weight under me. The moss growing the prettiest bright green in the world. The way oxygen is always there when I breathe it. It all seems full of meaning to me. There's mercy in the fact that every uphill gives way to a downhill. There's grace in the fact that oxygen is there, not forced into my lungs, but available to them. There's quiet sustenance in nature, the potential for food and water and resources, everything we need, available but not forced on us.
And I guess I just hope when God seems indifferent to us, we can see Him the way I saw nature today. Holding every good thing, sustaining our lives, providing oxygen free for the taking -- if only we choose to breathe it. Nature can be dangerous and conditions can be harsh, but at a basic level, this planet sustains life. It doesn't force life down our throats. God doesn't either.
I am not in an especially happy or easy season of life. So it's not always easy for me to have the best view of God, especially when it seems like I might be something like a subject in a cosmic science experiment. But I do know a couple things for sure. One is that God sustains life, but He doesn't force it down our throats.
Another is that of all the things God may be, He is definitely not indifferent.
He's not indifferent to us.
My favorite thing about nature is not how beautiful it is, although it is beautiful, or how many varieties of plants there are, although it's pretty amazing. My favorite thing about nature is that it's steady. It takes hundreds, thousands, millions of years to change. And no matter what is going on in my head, or my life, or my relationships, nature is the same today as it was yesterday. Radnor Lake and the trails at Chickasaw and the Swiss Alps are going to outlive me. They put me in my place. They put my emotions and my chaos in their place.
And I guess that's my favorite thing about God, too. He's not going anywhere.
I remember a quote someone put on Facebook once that said nature is not malicious and harsh like we sometimes think, but it's also not beneficent. Nature is simply indifferent. Indifferent to our plight, our struggle to survive. And we can't call things like hurricanes and avalanches evil because nature is just nature, just doing what it does, indifferent.
I suppose that rings of truth, and I suppose whoever originally said that quote (which I can't remember verbatim but embellished for you anyway) is right. But what if that is the way someone out there views God? What if when someone thinks of God the word "indifferent" comes to mind?
I thought about this while I was trail running today, along the Duck River and over rocks and dirt, through the woods of middle Tennessee. And I remembered how nature is indifferent, but for the life of me I couldn't believe it.
The trees that shade my eyes from the bright afternoon sun. The dirt holding my weight under me. The moss growing the prettiest bright green in the world. The way oxygen is always there when I breathe it. It all seems full of meaning to me. There's mercy in the fact that every uphill gives way to a downhill. There's grace in the fact that oxygen is there, not forced into my lungs, but available to them. There's quiet sustenance in nature, the potential for food and water and resources, everything we need, available but not forced on us.
And I guess I just hope when God seems indifferent to us, we can see Him the way I saw nature today. Holding every good thing, sustaining our lives, providing oxygen free for the taking -- if only we choose to breathe it. Nature can be dangerous and conditions can be harsh, but at a basic level, this planet sustains life. It doesn't force life down our throats. God doesn't either.
I am not in an especially happy or easy season of life. So it's not always easy for me to have the best view of God, especially when it seems like I might be something like a subject in a cosmic science experiment. But I do know a couple things for sure. One is that God sustains life, but He doesn't force it down our throats.
Another is that of all the things God may be, He is definitely not indifferent.
He's not indifferent to us.
Comments
Post a Comment