Reflections on a Word Picture
God’s purpose in the creation of the physical earth has been described as making “a theatre for his glory.” The Apostle Paul teaches that unbelievers are without excuse because God’s existence has been made plain to them: “his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse” (Romans 1:20). The Psalms speak of the physical creation as being a means of revelation: “ The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork” (Psalm 19:1).
I can attest to the power of general revelation in creation. Ever since I was very young, growing up in a Christian home, I found it easy to relate the characteristics of the physical creation to the attributes of God. I think most Christians do this in one way or another. Some look at the vast prairies or the seemingly endless sea and feel small and lowly before a limitless God. Some watch plants growing out of the ground, season after season, and are reassured by the constancy and faithfulness of the Lord. For me, it was always the mountains more than anything else in creation that made me think about God.
I was born in Sparwood, BC, in the middle of the Rockies, and spent much of my childhood in the shadow of the mountains. They made me feel tiny, but for a young child that is strangely a source of comfort – if Mommy and Daddy are so big and keep me safe, then what about the God above who carved those giant peaks? The crags that surrounded me for so many years came to represent many things about God. God, like the mountain, is firm and immovable. God, like the mountain, is firm and unyielding. God, like the mountain, is mysterious and terrifying. God, like the mountain, is a sure place to stand. God, like the mountain, provides a vantage point to survey all creation in a way that I could not do on my own. God, like the heights of the mountain, is seemingly unattainable in his holiness. God, like the mountain, is breathtaking and awesome in his beauty.
We see some of these same pictures in Scripture. “Your righteousness is like the mountains of God” (Psalm 36:6). “Glorious are you, more majestic than the mountains of prey” (Psalm 76:4). The image of God as like a “rock” is just as prominent: “The Rock, his work is perfect, for all his ways are justice. A God of faithfulness and without iniquity, just and upright is he.” (Deuteronomy 32:4) “There is none holy like the Lord; there is none besides you; there is no rock like our God.” (1 Samuel 2:2)
I think that the foundational sense of this word picture – God as a Rock, God as like the mighty mountain – finds its apex in the idea of God as a place of safety and refuge. The ancient Israelites must have looked at their own mountains in this way. The fear that can be seen in the accounts of Joshua and Judges in facing the chariots of their enemies arose from the deadly effectiveness of those weapons against armies in the open field, much like modern tanks. But, like tanks, chariots were much less effective in hilly, mountainous terrain. So the Hebrews became adept at mountain warfare; one of the means God used to preserve the southern kingdom of Judah longer than the northern kingdom of Israel was the geography of Judah, set as it was in a more remote and mountainous location where massed cavalry and chariots were less effective.
And so we see the Israelites speaking affectionately of mountains as a place of safety and protection: “The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the rock badgers” (Psalm 104:18). The comparisons to God as Israel’s refuge came easily: “Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever. As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, from this time forth and forevermore” (Psalm 125:1-2). “The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge, my savior; you save me from violence” (2 Samuel 22:2-3).
When I heard readings like these in church, then, I found I could look at the mountains towering over Elkford and Sparwood and Vancouver in the very same way. They became reminders of the power and strength of God.
Of course, it’s all too easy to run off and seek spiritual significance in rocks and trees as if they inherently carried such significance as ends in themselves; much of the modern “Green” movement is inherently pagan in this very way. This misses the fact that it is God’s attributes and activity that give the created order spiritual significance, that God’s significance and God’s worth precedes and gives ground to any meaning found in creation. A pile of rock has no inherent spiritual significance other than as the possession of their Divine Creator, but when the living Word of Truth presents it as reflections and images of the character of God himself, that same pile of rock becomes an anchor of sorts for deeper meaning.
We use liturgies, or orders of service, in worship for many reasons, but one important reason is to lay the truth in front of God’s people in different ways. God uses creation in much the same way. It’s different, of course, in that the creation only conveys general knowledge of God’s power and attributes and cannot give the special revelation required for one to know God and obey him. But creation has a revelatory function that cannot be denied, and perhaps its greatest value is not in the academic facts it may convey – for the revelation of Scripture is so much higher and so much more detailed and glorious than any conclusions drawn from science! – but in the way it conveys the deeply emotional and visceral aspects of revelation to us. The deepest such visceral impact would be the conviction of sin, which is difficult if not near impossible for a person standing before creation to express without the categories and language given by Scripture but which is very real and penetrating nonetheless.
Have we become dull and desensitized to the real impact of general revelation in creation? When you look at the tiny fingers of a newborn or at the incredibly complex pattern of a fingerprint, does your heart move naturally to worship? We should, perhaps, look at creation the way the Psalmist did. And marvel at what an awesome God we have.