Behold, the heaven and the heaven of heavens is the Lord’s thy God, the earth also, with all that therein is.

Deuteronomy 10:14

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They say it’s Earth Day. I guess that’s some oral demarcation to mentally soothe politically correct city dwellers. They lift their banners of dirt love with a dainty, manicured hand, telling us all we need to love the trees. And don’t use a straw either. Their position is rooted in fear, based on pseudo-scientific “facts”, sure the end of life is near because the climate is changing. It’s a common cause all the world can rally around. An idea they don’t really understand but one worthy of their utmost concern. One that convinces them they need no God.

Here, every day is Earth Day. And it’s not celebrated out of fear nor agenda pushing. It’s not because the end is coming, though would to God it comes soon.

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We celebrate creation every day because we love the Creator. It is a privilege to be fellow gardeners with God. Nature is a place of worship. Not as the man who carves an image out of a trunk, nor as the one who bows before the tree itself. Not as the ones who pray to the spirits of the wind and the flowers, the ones who fall before a wooded grove or cry up to a mountain. Not as the ones marching on Thursday with signs to save our oceans and again on Friday to kill our babies.

No, our worship far transcends the physical, the palpable. The Earth is the Lord’s. I love it because it is His. His creativity, his perfection, his wonder shine around me every moment of my day. My hands covered in dirt, a bloom to my nose, the whisper of wind around me, little signs to look up beyond the clouds to the one who walks through these same paths feeding and tending His earth. It’s incredible to think that though cursed, though broken, the Earth is still the Lord’s and the generous fullness thereof. He still loves and redeems this little blue and green marble.

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The birds are filling our trees with nests right now. Their squawking and whistling and shrieking reverberate throughout our yard mornings and evenings as if in some glorious concert not even the most talented Beethovenesq human could ever replicate. Nor should we try. Their songs are not played to please a dull human ear. They sing to the master of the universe who daily feeds them in the bounty of His careful love.

I wonder if we are as grateful as they for His faithfulness.

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There are birds and butterflies. Little bright green shoots. Flowers that bloom whether one notices or not. The maculí tree, her pink blooms too high to smell, to pick, to photograph. The hibiscus, just one day, then gone. These things are beyond us. Their glories not limited to human perception.

I am astounded that there are men and women who can celebrate a day dedicated to nature but who can find nothing to celebrate in the Creator. Men and women who blaspheme His name, His character, His word, people who fear the end of nature before fearing the God of the universe. It is nothing short of small-minded ingratitude.

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The mangos, nances, ciruelas, limes, guavas, cashews and pistachios and so many, many others are in full bloom, new little green fruits bursting out every day. The abundance is breathtaking. There is enough for ourselves and the birds, the monkeys, squirrels and porcupines, enough to pick and sell and still plenty that fall and rot and feed the roots far below. He feeds then not only the birds and bees and other creatures, not only human beings, but the plants themselves. For millenia, with precision and faithfulness, He has sent the rain to water His earth. Job and Isaiah, Jacob, Solomon…they all knew something and more of the mystery of growing things. And it always led those men of old back to their God.

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So surrounded by His faithfulness, His daily reminders through nature, I wonder at my own lack of faith. My own apprehension for the future. My concern for not blooming bright or big enough. The temptation to sing for man instead of for God.

He feeds the sparrows, he clothes the lilies.

So then, fear not little flock. We are recipients of the Father’s good pleasure. Only gird your loins, keep your lamp burning and wait faithfully (and is it irreverent to say….impatiently?) for our Lord to come! He alone will bring the end of this earth of His and you and I will be right by His beautiful side.

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