Redwoods in California
I like metaphors, a comparison that helps us understand something we may not yet fully know with something we already know something about. And although I’ve followed God for 52 years, many aspects of him remain hazy, uncertain, even unknowable. But what’s around us can give us some hints.
Like fog
softly and slowly creeping in
unaware until surrounded
by its cozy comfort
like lightning
blasting through my complacency, contentment, busyness
in one disruptive moment that changes my history
like a jagged Sierra peak
challenging all I am and have to ascend
with fear growing as I see the risks and take them
like a fertile valley
etched by a refreshing river
with easy passage through life
like an ocean wave
relentlessly returning
ever present
slowly eroding the weaker parts of the cliff face
like a ripe plum
plucked and bitten
the joy of its juice running down my chin and onto my chest
like riding a motorcycle
through the glories of Yellowstone
unprotected by steel
nothing to block the intimacy of smells and sights and buffalo
like a gas in a vacuum
expanding to completely fill
every empty space I possess
Honestly, the attempts of finite minds and bodies to fully comprehend the infinite are doomed to disappoint, but we can track him by the prints he’s left on this world. Yes, his autobiography reveals much, but so does his handiwork, even when his book may not yet be known, “What may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. 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 although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened” (Romans 1:19-21).
That’s why I like riding motorcycles, over plains and meadows and mountains and coasts, they all silently shout out details of their Creator. I see signs of his power, as he causes solid rock mountains to rise and bend at angles rock rarely bends at. I see signs of his love of beauty, with fields of spring wildflowers whose glory holds little practical purpose. I see his value of joy as I drink that first cup of coffee in the morning. I see his concern for connection, in a world that fits together so magnificently. I see his majesty, in the California redwoods that touch his sky.
Maybe we can incorporate this into our daily lives: regularly looking for hints of him. Hints that can expand our conception of him, that can allow us to see him more clearly and love him more dearly. Day by day.
Kick Starting the Application
How often do you intentionally ponder dimensions of the world to better understand their maker? How can you increase it? And, even though you may not be a poet nor even care for it a lot, maybe write your own poem about the God touches you see and search for.