Nature as Healer

‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows his handiwork. —Psalm 19:1 

“Oh, these vast, calm, measureless mountain days, days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God.”—John Muir

I never appreciated the value of spending time in nature until it became an absolute must. Endless hours spent indoors—beginning with a long commute and then shut up all day within the four walls of a classroom enduring the same sights, same sounds, same smells—nearly smothered the life out of me. 

I craved the outdoors. Jogging late at night afforded a welcome, albeit temporary, release. During those hours, there was—thankfully—no one to talk to and fewer cars to contend with. The hushed, deep stillness of night often moved me to tears. Reluctant to go back inside, I dragged my mattress onto the screened porch of my top-floor apartment and slept where I could gaze upon the stars that glittered like cut crystal and feel the soft night breezes on my face. I would have gladly camped there permanently. 

My intense fascination with nature began one day at the beach. Sitting on a towel gazing at the sea, I reached over to scoop up a handful of sand. I was awestruck to discover that it was comprised of many, perhaps dozens of, perfectly formed miniature white seashells. Staring at these tiny marvels, I experienced a moment of complete and unalloyed delight. 

The shells delivered an important message; their uniformity of color and perfection of symmetry underscored the absolute unlikelihood, the sheer impossibility, of their existing by mere chance. They could never in a million years have happened without design. This represented a turning point for me. To acknowledge that chance was not a factor that I had to reckon with was a deeply reassuring concept for someone who so keenly felt the apparent randomness of one life-changing accident. God, relentless seeker of lost sheep, had through nature provided a door of communication with me.

Months later, God again delivered a meaningful message through nature. While I was walking through the woods, a leaf floated down from above and landed softly on my shoulder. Examining it closely, I discovered a beautifully constructed delicately veined work of art, resplendent in the gorgeously riotous hues of fall. Each color looked as if it had been hand-painted; burnished orange subtlety feather-brushed into the crimson, stem tinged with still fresh vibrant green, and leaf edges gilded gold. The fact that God would take such pains to make an ephemeral object so magnificent spoke volumes to me of His unquestioned care for all of His creations, including me. Such objects, created for His pleasure and for ours, demonstrate His purposeful intention to make all things beautiful.

Time spent in nature became time spent with God. I couldn’t seem to get high enough. Hiking the beautiful San Gabriel Mountains, scaling Sandia Peak, and climbing the rock-hewn steps of Yosemite’s Vernal Falls, in the similitude of a pilgrimage, brought me ever closer to heaven. I would shout exuberant greetings to my daughter and my God from the summits. All life’s vicissitudes—troubles and grief among them—were summarily dwarfed and given perspective from these eagle’s nest vantage points. 

Breathing the woodsy rarified atmosphere of hyper-oxygenated air and the heady fragrance of pine—taking it in by the gulps—I sensed life, the very Zoe life of God, seeping into all the weary places, and releasing the tight bundle of care clutched around my heart. And oh, how I savored the silence—a deep abiding silence that slowly, finally, quieted the inner chaos of my soul. 

The message gleaned from nature is a clarion call that awakens us to the order and sense of an infinitely wise and preeminent Creator. Nature, as a reflection of a loving God, is enduring, consistently available, and easily accessed—a precious resource that, to this day, moves me to the core.