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. – Romans 1:20
Nothing’s permanent. When I move, will I realize too late how blessed I was by the beauty all around me? When I was looking at homes in the San Lorenzo Valley, a realtor told me that I would sit on my deck with a cup of coffee and hear the Stellars jays squawking and the hollow tap of woodpecker beaks on the redwoods. I didn’t forget that, but I always viewed her prediction cynically. Yeah, like I’m gonna have time for that!
I will regret my complaints about the winter storms, the falling trees, the abundant insects, the fire dangers. When I focus on the problems, I miss the beauty that I have only this opportunity to see. Worse, I miss its God-sent message to me. How shortsighted! The years are passing, and someday I may have to live in the city again.
Here’s an interesting memory. I was driving the kids to Quail Hollow park for a hike. I heard something rustling near my left knee. Glancing down, I saw a huge, HUGE beetle, scuffling around on the van door, very close to my leg. There was nowhere to pull over, but screaming helped a little. Finally, I hurtled through the park gate and zipped along the curved driveway, scraping at last to a quick stop amid a cloud of dust. The creature’s leg was caught somehow. We found a jar and trapped it, and the kids studied it. (That always calms me down.) It was a June bug. They are black and a couple of inches long. Seriously. (Now you’ll excuse me for screaming?)
When my son tried out his macro lens, he made a profound observation. “Mom, I think that God made everything beautiful in its own way. Even bugs – they just look ugly to us because we can’t see them up close.” He was right, sort of. If not beautiful, they are at least really cool. Check these out:
We can learn something of God’s nature through every created thing. Even the delicate Daddy longlegs, gingerly reaching out its threadlike legs along a shower tile, can inform us of the Creator’s incredible precision. It’s a miniature machine, doing its fragile best to survive the perils of a girls’ bathroom.
Holiness hovers in the air we breathe. If we pause, we can catch a glimpse of God. Let's not miss it!