From way back in my childhood, God has often wooed me to Himself through the stillness of the forest and the beauty of mountain streams and waterfalls. One of my first experiences of the discipline of solitude–before I knew what spiritual disciplines were or that solitude was one of them–was as a youth serving at Trout Creek Bible Camp in Oregon. On the days when the campers went home, I would hike through the woods to my favorite spot by the creek, where there was a small waterfall and I could be alone to think and rest. In all the years since those times by the creek, I have always loved being alone with God in the woods and along streams–that is where I feel closest to Him.
So here at another camp–Mt. Hermon Conference Center in the mountains around Santa Cruz, California–I took a walk alone in the woods today and discovered a little waterfall I had never seen before. Amidst the beauty of the sun filtering through the giant redwoods around me, surrounded by the pleasant cadence of the falling water, and breathing deeply in the few minutes of time alone, I again felt the gentle wooing of God and relaxed in His presence and love.
In remembering my times alone with God next to the waterfall at Trout Creek, I recalled seeing something there that made a lasting impression in my mind. There was an old tree that had fallen across the creek many years prior, but as that dead log decayed, there were all kinds of new plants–including a new young tree–growing out of the fertile soil of the damp, decaying wood. As a youth by that creek so long ago, God used that image of life springing forth from death to illustrate the Gospel reality of my life coming out of Christ’s death.
So here at Mt Hermon, as I sat and enjoyed the stillness and beauty, I realized there was brokenness and deadness here too: a section of the fencing was broken down next to where I sat, there were thorns intertwined with the plants growing by the stream, and there were dead limbs and leaves in some of the trees. Yet even in the midst of such evidences of the curse of sin and death, the beauty and life of God’s redemption and creation far surpass it.
In this season of life for me–especially in marriage and parenting–God is allowing me to see much of my own brokenness and sin, and there is much that feels like it is dying. At this point, while I do not yet see the life and redemption and beauty that God is bringing out of that death and loss, I trust that He is at work and that He is indeed bringing beauty out of ashes and gladness out of mourning (Isaiah 61:3), because that is who He is.