Learning From Creation
- Strength For Life
- 8 hours ago
- 4 min read
Creation has a way of slowing a man down long enough for him to notice what has always been true. This truth is not the loud message the world repeats—about achievement, comfort, or control—but the quieter truth written into stone, water, and sky. Scripture says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork” (Ps. 19:1). That declaration does not require interpretation. It requires only that a man step outside and pay attention.
God's creation has a way of making people pay attention. A great example is climbing the stairs at Cloudland Canyon in Georgia. Anyone who has been there knows the stairs demand something of you. They are not cruel, but they are honest. With every stair step, the body gives a report. Mine, with its damaged back and limitations, reminded me to move slowly. And in that slower pace, I began to notice things I would have missed otherwise—the steadiness of the rock, the silence between the trees, the simple permanence of it all.
The stone of those steps did not strive. It did not compete. It simply stood, exactly as God had made it. And in its stillness, it reflected something about its Creator—faithful, unchanging, and strong.
White water rafting the Snake River showed me that same truth in motion. The river moves with purpose. Neither opinions nor preferences make it halt. It flows exactly where it was designed to flow. As the current hurried us along, I was reminded of God’s words: “Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed” (Job 38:11). The water obeys Him. It always has.
There is something good for a man in seeing something he cannot control. It reminds him he was never meant to control everything.
I have seen that same reminder in the Gulf of Mexico. I have swum in it when the water was calm enough to rest in, and I have swum in it when the waves demanded respect. Both have their lesson. On calm days, the words “Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10) come easily. On rough days, those words become something deeper—not stillness of body, but stillness of spirit.
Yellowstone taught me patience. Standing and watching Old Faithful, my family and I waited for something that would not come early or late, but exactly when it was meant to. It did not perform for the crowd. It obeyed its Creator. And in that moment, the truth was plain: “The earth is the LORD’S, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein” (Ps. 24:1).
Standing on Pikes Peak, looking out across distances too great for the eye to measure, I understand David’s words in a way that cannot be taught indoors: “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him?” (Ps. 8:3–4). The mountain did not make me feel insignificant; it put me in the place I was meant to be.
Emerald Lake in Colorado stands out among the lessons of creation. It taught me something I will never forget. My niece—my best friend’s daughter—rode on my shoulders for much of that climb. She trusted me without hesitation. She did not question the distance or the difficulty. She simply trusted that I would carry her where she needed to go.
The trail was long, and my back reminded me of its weaknesses with every step. But the mountain was patient. It did not rush me. It allowed me to move at the pace I could maintain. And when we reached the lake, surrounded by stillness and stone, I stepped into the freezing water and felt the kind of clarity only creation provides.
Jeremiah described it well: “For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river” (Jer. 17:8). Strength is not always loud. Sometimes it is simply remaining rooted.
Fall Creek Falls brought everything into focus. I sat beside the waterfall and listened. The water fell with steady authority, exactly as it has done since God commanded it to fall. It did not seek attention. It did not announce itself. It simply obeyed. And in that moment, I remembered: “The voice of the LORD is upon the waters: the God of glory thundereth” (Ps. 29:3).
Creation does not exist to impress us. It exists to point us back to Him. There is something every man—and every person—needs to do from time to time. Step away from the noise. Leave behind the artificial pace of modern life. Walk into the mountains. Stand beside the ocean. Sit by the river not to conquer it, but to witness it. Not to prove strength, but to discover it. Strength is not found in dominating creation. It is found in standing within it, recognizing the One who made it—and who made you.
The mountains will remind you of His permanence.
The rivers will remind you of His authority.
The waters will remind you of His peace.
And somewhere along the trail, in the quiet places where the world grows still, “thine ears shall hear a word” which will be the voice of Jesus, “behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it” (Isa. 30:21).
And when you hear it, you will understand.
You were never meant to stay inside.
The above article was written by Jonathan Thornton. He is a military veteran and member of NorthStone Baptist Church in Pensacola, FL. To offer him your feedback, comment below or email us at strengthforlife461@gmail.com.
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