From the time of my youth, I’ve had the impression that all of nature/creation bears witness of a creator. Well before I’d read Romans 1:20 (“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…”), it seemed to me that every sunrise, every flower, every beat of a hummingbird’s wing—and a million other things—suggested proof of a greater being.

It is not necessary to become a rock-climbing landscape gazer in order to be saved. Nor is it necessary that one crawl about the back yard with a magnifying lens in order to grow in faith, hope and love. One can study scripture and cultivate a saved relationship with their Redeemer without a single stroll in the woods or a solitary issue of National Geographic.

But the one who has never gaped in wonder at ice ferns on a winter window, who has never paused in driving to watch in silent awe as a fading sun flares an evening sky, who has never grinned in realization of the promise inferred in the opening of spring’s first tulip, the one who has never taken the time to take in the marvels of the handiwork of God cannot comprehend the nature of their Creator. 

While the beauty of this world may be fleeting, it is not incidental. From the raw, savage energy of an erupting volcano to the momentary crystal of frost, it is clear that the One who made us is one who delights in color and pattern. From the orbiting within the atom to the infinite orbits of the cosmos, our universe resounds with the message that it has been shaped by a God of Power and Beauty.