“The hills are clothed with gladness,” King David proclaimed (Psalm 65:12b).
I couldn’t agree more. Even on the little hillside of our backyard viewed from my perch on the deck, I see much gladness. And observations of the gladness lead to worship.
Sun glints through the trees creating a spotlight effect on some branches and turning backlit leaves into glowing emeralds. Down by the creek bed foliage is draped in deep, green-black shadow, beckoning wildlife into its cool environs.
Thank you, Father, for the comfort and cheer of dappled light.
Air currents waft through the trees causing branches to bob and sway. The long, compound leaves of the black walnut tree swing back and forth like bells joyfully ringing on the breeze. And flowers appear to wave jauntily to their Maker.
Thank you, Father, for the restoration and delight of a cool breeze.
Two cardinals take turns serenading amidst the lacy greenery overhead. Robins, house wrens, chickadees, and more add accompaniment; the cicadas provide percussion.
The hills have certainly burst into song this day (Isaiah 55:12)!
Thank you, Father, for the pleasure and solace of bird song.
Two small squirrels play tag, spiraling rapidly around a tree five times. When they stop, I wonder, Are they tired or dizzy? And how do they run so fast, even clambering upside down without losing their grip?
(Woosh!)
Sometimes they jump impossible distances from tree to tree and I catch my breath. Their safety seems in jeopardy, yet the little fellows never fall. God has specially equipped them to handle such feats—just one of a million examples of how he has engineered every plant and animal for survival.
(“In his hand is the life of every creature.–Job 12:10a)
Thank you, Father, for the evidence of your wisdom, power, and influence—even among our backyard squirrels.
I’m remembering other animals that have visited less frequently. In the fall, a chubby woodchuck lumbers in the underbrush, fueling up for hibernation. Every now and then we spot a chipmunk or rabbit; sometimes even deer emerge out of the thicket, regal and quiet, to feed and rest in the yard. Our resident raccoon occasionally perches in his hole high up in the hawthorn tree, checking on the weather.
On summer nights we enjoy a festival of fireflies. Our trees appear decorated for Christmas with hundreds of twinkling lights. Frogs in the creek bed offer the sound track.
Thank you, Father, for the fascinating variety of creatures with which you’ve populated the world. “How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures” (Psalm 104:24).
The sky is full of God’s creatures, too. A small gaggle of Canada geese announce their coming with raucous honking. They’re heading for the pond behind duplexes down the street. Long necks stretch forward; large wings gracefully ply the air.
Also skyward, among great banks of cumulus clouds glides a puffy hippo!
And sometimes a red-tailed hawk glides in circles above the trees. Landing requires several battings of wings with feathers fanned out and talons extended forward–a lesson in aerodynamics and precision.
“The heavens declare your glory; the skies proclaim your works” (Psalm 19:1), O God, night and day.
Thank you, Father, that all things speak of you—flora and fauna, rock and water, earth and sky.
This deck has become a holy, hallowed place where the glory of your creation excites wonder.
And woven throughout your works is the mystical and supernatural—to inspire, expand, and enrich our souls for more of you.
To that end I seek for my own life the same wisdom, power, and influence I see in your creation. Then I too may reflect your glory (2 Corinthians 3:18).
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What has compelled you to worship from your deck, porch, or beach towel? Please share your thoughts in the comment section below!
(Photo credits: www.guideposts.org; Nancy Ruegg; http://www.flickr.com; Nancy Ruegg; http://www.pixnio.com; http://www.wikimedia.com; http://www.pinterest.com (2); http://www.flickr.com; http://www.slideshare.net; http://www.pinterest.com (2).
