When we moved to Landenberg, I had no idea how often my days would be interrupted by the beauty of creation. The first fall we lived here, I would grab my camera and run out to the back field to take pictures of deer or a snowy egret or flocks of geese taking off from our pond. One afternoon a cow on the neighboring farm gave birth to the fluffiest white calf imaginable. The stark purity of its white coat was simply dazzling.
Since then, there have been countless times when I dash out the door to take pictures of rainbows, sunsets, turtles or ice glistening on our birch tree. One day a swan arrived on our frozen pond. After an hour of trying to get good pictures, I had to stop myself and get on with my day.
I have no special skill in photography. Yet when creation calls to me, I try to capture what I often feel are moments of perfection sent from heaven. These whispers of heaven happen everywhere. Growing up in New Hampshire, we were always provided with the most spectacular display of fall colors. But once, walking in Pittsburgh, I came upon one lone, gorgeous red leaf on the gray sidewalk. The contrast was striking, and it seemed to be saying “Notice me.” It is amazing how a single leaf can speak such joy to me.
Rainbows occur fairly often above our neighborhood, usually after a heavy rain. I love the unusual glow of the sun across the meadow and the charged atmosphere in the air. There is always something breathtaking about a rainbow, its powerful display of light and color, its immensity, and its promise of hope.
I wish I had the ability to capture the glorious spiderwebs that festoon my deck all summer. Some mornings the mist creates strands of beads along each web. It seems as though a crew of spiders had decorated for a party. I am awed by the intricacies designed into each web.
I also am enamored by clouds. They can seem dreamy puffs in a vast blue sky, slowly dancing past my view. Many are tinged with color and drama and sweep by in a rush. Still others thunder in with flashes of lightning before finally releasing a deluge on the earth.
And I must mention raindrops on roses, with a nod to Oscar Hammerstein. Visiting a rose garden after a rain, my daughter captured some beautiful shots of delicate petals speckled with raindrops. Since then I have often made photocards of her pictures and have worked to replicate her success with photos of my own rosebush. The petals and the raindrops each have an exquisite beauty and a fragility. Together they stir emotions in me of tenderness or understanding.
Each of these delights remind me of Psalm 19 in which we are told that creation’s voice proclaims the glories of God. I see these wondrous sights as momentary perfections around us in a broken world. This is because fluffy calves deal with pesky flies, leaves wither, rainbows fade, spiderwebs get knocked down, clouds blow past, and roses drop their petals and turn brown.
Considering the wonders of creation can teach us about the brokenness of all people. Whether it is a struggle with sin, a failing body or difficult relationships, everyone suffers.The final verses of Psalm 91 offer hope, pointing us to God our Redeemer, the only one who can completely mend our brokenness.
The narrative of the Bible is filled with stories of redemption and restoration. Israel was redeemed from slavery in Egypt and captivity in Babylon. Job’s life was restored to him after suffering the loss of his children and all his possessions. Joseph was sold into bondage, then imprisoned, but finally elevated to a place of second in the kingdom. We are promised in Psalm 103 that God redeems our lives from the pit. That might be trouble without, but likely it could be trouble within our souls.
It occurs to me that the work God is doing everyday to bring redemption and restoration into this world, and particularly in each of our lives, is the greatest hope we can ever experience.
I am glad creation calls me to recognize the glories of God. But I marvel in the knowledge that God is taking the imperfect and broken in me and in this world and working to redeem and restore. Perhaps this is the greatest wonder: that for those who seek Him, He loves us enough to be our Redeemer.
ABOUT THE BLOGGER:
Linnea Tideman has always enjoyed sharing stories. Her childhood in New Hampshire and her Swedish heritage have provided her with a wealth of experiences, but also the foundation of her faith. She enjoys creative projects, travel, books, sewing, gardening, but most of all hospitality, often hosting fancy teas and occasionally something grand like recreating dinner on the Titanic. She serves the UrbanPromise and Good Neighbors ministries. Linnea lives in Landenberg with her husband Dave. They have three grown daughters. She hopes that her writing reflects how God continues to reveal Himself to us as our shepherd and Savior.