5:30 a.m. MST, Sunday, June 21, 2015

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”  – Ecclesiastes 3:11

I’m watching the sun about to rise over the Cimarron Mountain Range this morning.  A glassy, mountain pond is situated in the meadow below our hundred-twenty-year-old, ranch hand cabin. The surface of the water reflects the sunglow as well as any mirror could.  I suspect the cool water will produce layers of gentle mist when the sun’s rays strike the surface.  I have fresh coffee and I will wait here to see this unfold.

A bull elk just bugled on the mountain behind me… surprisingly close.  That otherworldly sound one would never expect to emit from this massive creature sets every farm dog in the valley below to barking.  Some howl.  The dogs in the valley must have heard this sound innumerable times during this season.  Yet they continue to bark out a warning.  Maybe the strangeness of the sound itself stirs in them something primeval like it does me.  It says there are things out there that are untamed.  I like that there are places that are still wild and in spite of our increasing intrusions, still uncontrolled by anyone.

I am having a rough recovery from a ten day tour of China.  My stomach and my sleep rhythms are being haunted by something from Beijing or Guilin or another exotic, unfamiliar time and place.  I planned this mountain trip too soon after that one.  Yesterday, I simply wanted to go home more than I wanted to hike to the top of a mountain.  My dear wife is patient with me.  This morning, I actually feel capable of rejoicing in this day that the Lord has made.

The sun is silhouetting the mountains across the valley now.  I am thankful to be sitting in this particular spot at this amazing moment.  Yes…  deeply thankful this morning.  God is extravagant in His love for me.  His grace and His glory are palpable this morning.  I do not take these times for granted.

The sun is threatening to send rays over the juncture of two peaks.  It is glorious.  The birds, the trees, even the grass seem poised to welcome the warmth.  I appreciate that there exist mountain places where I need a jacket even when the calendar declares that summer is here.

Thank you, Father.  This is good… very good.  I can’t help but wonder if everyone who finds themselves in moment like this also experiences thankfulness.

A pair of ducks land on the pond and fractures the glassy surface as they begin to energetically forage in the pre-dawn light.

You do realize that thankfulness is one of those “image of God” factors built into us human beings by the Creator’s design, right?  Being thankful is not a generic state of being or a simple emotion our DNA evolved to create.  Thankfulness, like love, necessarily has an object, a receiver of the thanks or the love we bestow or share.

I consider myself something of a scientist and also a junior theologian.  I’m certainly not a professional at either one but I am capable of having conversations in both areas.  I’m not a professional anything, in fact.  I do know enough to be dangerous some might say.

Some people find it strange when I explain there is no conflict for me there at all.  The conflict between good science and authentic faith have never been in conflict.  In fact, they have historically gone hand in hand.  This is a strange day we live in where angry attacks and defensiveness account for most of the dialogue about things that matter most.  Sad…  Sad, because there is still a real conversation to be had.

That mist I predicted is now hovering over the water and moving almost imperceptibly to the south across the pond.  (I admit I saw it yesterday, too, therefore it was easy to predict this morning.)  I’m reminded that my life is like that mist… here for a brief moment and soon gone.  (James 4:14)  That passage is not a morbid reminder that life is short and you’ll be dead soon, by the way. It’s a reminder that we need to be fully alive and present every single day.  It’s a reminder that today is a sweet gift.

The mist lasts only a few minutes before it dissipates in the unrelenting energy of the sun.  It is beautiful to watch… brief though its appearance.  Thank you, Father, for this scene…  and for the way coffee tastes sitting on this porch.  I was made for this!

The fact that I can explain the physics behind the existence of that mist doesn’t take away the thankfulness I am experiencing as I watch it rise.  The fact that I can explain that biologically instinctive behavior of the elk doesn’t take away the wow factor I feel inside when its bugle reverberates in the pines above me.  The fact that I can explain the processes that form mountain ranges or even draw you a fairly detailed illustration of the water cycle that allows for cold, clear streams to flow and hidden mountain lakes to exist takes nothing away from my enjoyment of them and the thankfulness in my heart.

The approach of science is to deconstruct everything to its component parts, collect data and attempt to explain the processes and structures and energies that are combining to create what we are observing.  If things go well, we can then say, “Now we understand this!  See, what was once attributed to a higher power actually occurred because of this confluence of natural processes.  We have broken them down to their lowest form and explained them for you!  You don’t need theology.”

Well, maybe that’s not what most scientists say.  I am putting words in the mouths of others and that’s not a good practice.  I am always thankful for the understanding and knowledge we have and the benefits science has brought to our lives and our world.  The scope and depth of knowledge is beyond one brain’s capacity to fathom.  But wait…  giving thanks necessarily implies both a thanks-giver and a Thanks-getter.  I guess that would make it theology, huh?  Yet I am sincerely thankful for what I see right now… science in action and beauty unfolding… touching intricately and intimately the heart and brain.

Theology for the exercise itself is so empty for me.  But every Christian is necessarily a “junior theologian” in that we all must have an understanding of faith and God.  That personal faith and understanding is practical theology, basically speaking.  I’m more concerned with the theology of real life than the deconstructionist approach to theology found in textbooks and classrooms.  In fact, those arenas are not necessarily good places for scientific approach and spirituality to meet.  That’s why I believe teachers of religion should also be pastoring or ministering to people in the real world.  Real world practice of theology would make a good qualification for a professional theologian as far as I’m concerned.  (That’s a subject for another day!)

I want to do a little theological thinking but I actually don’t have time to theologize too long this morning.  The sun is already warming my jacket off me.  I have worship to attend and a mountain to enjoy, among other things.  But I want to say this about authentic Christianity and sincere faith.  They don’t deconstruct everything they are applied to.  They construct things in such a way that they lead to an amazing life that can only be lived in relationship with the One who created (constructed) all that we see.

Go ahead and explain the processes from the cosmic to the sub-atomic level if you can.  It won’t change the fact that I saw this sunrise today.  It can’t take away one degree of the thankfulness I am giving to the One who created me with this capacity in my heart to know beauty and to return thanks to Him for it.  I can even choose to love Him deeply in response to way He has revealed Himself to me.  Oh, I know… There are those in the valley today who warn against listening for such things that come from places that will not submit to deconstructionist study. But I am forever convinced that I was created with a place for something in my heart that will always be untamed and not entirely knowable.  And in spite of the intrusions of the world I live in… there yet remains a glory and a Presence and a mystery that refuses to be controlled by my science or even my theology.  And sometimes… when I choose to listen for Him… He calls me to Himself.  I know it’s otherworldly to those who choose to remain in the valley and bark warnings about such beliefs.  But I know that voice and I am thankful I heard it today.

I have no doubt He created me to be able to deeply experience this morning with Him and His Word.  Even the fact that I recognize the beauty of this and am moved somewhere deep in my heart by the scene testifies to that.  And yes, I understand that religion and the human need for theology have biological, anthropological, sociological, deconstructionist explanations.  I know my religious experience can be explained without even referencing theology.  But you need to understand something, too.  This isn’t religion… it’s relationship.  And there is a mystery that neither science nor theology will ever be able to take from me or from those who know Him.  I can present evidence and explain the bases and present a good argument… if argument were the goal.  But I neither want nor need to deconstruct the reality of what I know in my mind, heart and soul to be true.

A tiny hummingbird joins me on the porch briefly.  He hovers a long moment to consider what I am and then he is off to do what hummingbirds do in the morning in the mountains.  I am thankful in my soul again.  Thankful that this tiny bird is bright, almost metallic green and red in the sun’s rays.  Thankful for that kind of beauty.  Thankful that he stopped by this morning.  And whether he was sent by God or by biological happenstance, I’m thankful for him.  Isn’t it strange that you and I were somehow made with the ability to perceive and receive beauty like that as a gift?

There is knowledge to be gained by breaking things down.  But there is revelation to be received by being still and knowing that He is God.  Yes, in Him everything comes together for me today.  Everything…

“When through the woods and forest glades I wander, I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.  When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur, and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze… Then sings my soul, my Savior, God to Thee!  How great Thou art!  How great Thou art!”