One aspect of my life which I consider a significant blessing and privilege is the area in which I live and spend much of my time. I live in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia, and am constantly astounded by the natural beauty that surrounds us on every side—mountains, rivers, lakes, forests, and oceans. It is no secret as to why our license plates say “beautiful BC.”

I found myself especially in awe of this environmental splendour the other day as I took a walk along the Vedder River in Sardis. It was the perfect fall day, not a cloud in the sky, with a slight chill in the air. The sun made the water glisten as its rapids rushed past the trees and feet of fishermen, hoping to hook one of the salmon which plumbed the water’s depths.

As I walked, I happened upon a man standing down the rocky embankment who had secured a bite and was working to reel in a flailing pink and green Sockeye to the shore. I stood and watched for ten minutes, feeling almost frozen in place, thinking that what was taking place in front of me could have been on the front page of National Geographic. As I gazed on, I could not help but be drawn to Scripture. The words of Psalm 19:1 (“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands…” — NIV) and Romans 1:20 (“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…”) rang through my mind.

In all honesty, I have often approached those types of verses with an intrigue and appreciation which is matched by equal amounts of confusion. Throughout Scripture we see nature described, and at times, even personified. It cries and groans and offers forth praise, but as long as I have been alive, I cannot say that I have ever heard a rock sing out the chorus of “How Great Thou Art.” Yet I could not help but be in awe as I stood on that gravel path and looked upon the scene in front of me. So, what is the connection between natural creation and the Creator, and how might we as Christians go about honouring its cries?

Through my time in ministry, I have had the opportunity to mentor many young adults who are coming into their own when it comes to faith. From my experience, there are typically two sides which they tend towards, prioritizing either theology or worship. Those who focus on theology spend a lot of time reading, learning, and asking questions about the nature of God, desiring to know Him more deeply. On the other hand, those who are taken by worship are interested in what it means to experience God, and can often be found singing praise, engaging in prayer, and seeking God in the world around them. Neither of these perspectives are wrong, nor are they mutually exclusive; they are simply two sides of one coin. However, if that coin is left unflipped, we can quickly forget that the other side has its own unique visage. My advice would often be that we need to imagine our faith as a pendulum that consistently swings back and forth between our knowledge of God and our worship of Him—one not reaching its fullness without the other. Both are necessary for a deep understanding of who He is.

So, we come back to the question at hand: what did my standing on that riverbank have to do with God?

As we read the previously mentioned verses, we see a common theme: creation is beautiful, but its beauty does not serve itself. Consider Psalm 19: the skies are glorious, but it is not their own glory they proclaim, but that of the One who flung stars into space. Romans 1 tells us it is what’s before our eyes, that which is seen, that brings light to the unseen characteristics of God. It is not a singing of songs, but a profession, a redirection. The rocks, trees, oceans, lakes, dunes, mountains, flowers, and animals are all conduits through which God professes His divine glory.

Standing on that bank, my mind ought to be drawn to the reality that the roar of the rapids is but an ounce of God’s incredible power. The dazzling rays of the sun pale in comparison to His glory. The height of the mountains and depth of the valleys are minuscule in relation to the height of His mercy and depth of His grace. We have been made to know the One who knit us together in our mother’s womb, to love and worship Him forever. Standing on a riverbank in awe of God’s creation, should act as an invitation to be drawn into the arms of our Father, to swing to the other side of the pendulum, towards a deeper knowledge of God. Meditating on the Word, being discipled and discipling others, and being taught the Scriptures—all that we might go out and glorify Him in a world that cries out who He is.