Oh, The Glory Of It All

Dallas Willard's book The Divine Conspiracy is a book that I find difficult to move through quickly. There is so much in his writing, and not just a large number of words. But there is much that he says that I do agree with intellectually but don't see lived out in my own life. I am slow to believe, all in all. And since I am slow to believe, I am slow to act on what I think I should believe. And that causes guilt, and that's not fun for anyone! For example, in my most recent reading of Chapter 3 out of Dallas Willard's fine work, I read about the glory of creation, of the sheer beauty of the earth that God created, the simple joy found in the sound of a wave crashing, or in the intricate veins of a green leaf seen as the sun shines through it. Dallas Willard described a particularly stunning scene of him walking up to a beach while he was in Africa and the joy that was his simply to observe such beauty. And he mused that God, the Creator and Sustainer, who sees all of creation and enjoys it with an intensity and consistency that we could only imagine, must be one infinitely joyous being for all of the glory that is His to be and to see.

They were inspiring words to read, and if you haven't read his work The Divine Conspiracy yet, I would highly recommend it. His words are written in such a well-crafted way that Dr. Willard's prose borders on poetry. And yet, the inspiration that his musings gave me also brought with them a notable measure of sadness. To see how God certainly does view His creation, which He called good, and how Dallas Willard sees creation in this instance only served to bring light to the fact that I do not. I do not find the same awe that I once did in the simple shining of the sun, the delicate song of an early morning bird. I so easily overlook the things that God never misses. And though I will never enjoy creation as He does, I can certainly hope to appreciate it as I once did. And this thought begs the question: if I once enjoyed creation with an intensity that I have since lost, how did that happen? What was it that caused me to lose that which I had? I do not think that I am alone in this. While I worked in Solana Beach, how often did I truly go and appreciate the beach that was within walking distance? Certainly not often enough. It saddens me to be reminded yet again that we, as human beings, grow tired far too quickly of that which we have, that which we are given, that which is before us on a consistent basis. If something is in front of our eyes for too long, it becomes impossible to actually see it.

With that being said, I think we would all do well to go outside at a time we wouldn't normally and just appreciate the true gift that creation was meant to be, wherever you happen to find yourself.