This is the most beautiful time of year, in my opinion, in my part of the world. The leaves are slowly transforming into a breathtaking array of color, and set against a piercing blue sky, it is a spectacle that can take your breath away. Even as they lose the last remaining leaves, I find the sight of bare trees against a dull, grey horizon hauntingly beautiful. More and more, as I consider God's handiwork in nature, I am compelled to marvel, and give Him thanks and praise for the glorious vistas that He presents to us every day.
This morning, over breakfast, I happened to glance at the cover of a magazine that my husband had been reading, and the words "Honor Nature" leapt out at me. The article talked about capturing the beauty and reality of nature in the artist's work. Nothing wrong with that. But the title is representative of an attitude in the world that falls so short of the truth. "Nature" as a whole, is nothing less than the outworking of an infinitely brilliant and benevolent Creator God. It is not, as some would indicate, a "Mother" or a force unto itself. No, it is designed, created, and controlled by the eternal sovereign of the universe. Of course, not everyone holds to this belief, but I stand on it, nonetheless. Hearing nature referred to as something that, in and of itself, deserves praise, respect, or fear, provokes a response of defense of the honor and glory of God in me. It is God, and Him alone, who provides the landscapes, the animal life, the sunrises and sunsets, that we enjoy each and every day. It is Him that has painted the beauty of nature on the canvas of the universe. He holds it all together, and is faithful to bring the seasons in their order, the rain on the just and the unjust. We would have no beautiful art, or music, if He did not inspire and equip those artists and musicians to try and capture the reality of His creation. To Him alone belongs the honor and the glory. There. Just had to say it.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth.