The Glory of Kings

T. M. Moore

Searching Out the Glory of God in Creation

“Understand the creation, if you wish to know the Creator.”
—Columbanus, Sermon I1

In the widely circulated medieval hagiography, Vita Brendani, there is a quaint anecdote about the sixth-century Celtic saint at a point when he was perplexed over the will of God for his mission. After a difficult time, he was enjoying a season of rest and recuperation on the island of Ailbe. A blackbird came to light where Brendan was seated, singing and beating his wings “as an organ.” As he meditated on this unusual sight, Brendan began to have insight into God’s will for him and his band of missionaries. He suddenly understood how long his mission must last, what course it should take, and what would be the outcome of their journey. “On hearing this, Brendan bowed himself to the ground, and wept and cried and gave thanks and praise to God, the Creator of all things.”2

Celtic saints like Brendan were renowned for their sensitivity to the creation, especially to the ways that animals, lakes, rivers, hills, trees, and other created things could affect their understanding of God and his will. Brendan, Columba, Kevin, Cuthbert, and many others seem to have had a knack for reading in created things some insight into divine revelation, or, as in the story above, of having the creation bring to greater clarity some aspect of the divine character or will.

These quaint vignettes were traditional Irish ways of using fiction-embellished history to make a true point, memorably. Contemporary writers on Celtic Christianity often remark on the relationship between these ancient believers and the created world, citing this penchant for interacting with creation in a manner similar to the way we interact with the Bible.

William Drummond, a seventeenth-century descendant of those medieval Celtic Christians, expressed this phenomenon in his poem, “The Booke of the World”:

Of this faire Volume which wee World doe name,
If wee the sheetes and leaves could turne with care,
Of Him who it correctes, and did it frame,
Wee cleare might read the Art and Wisedome rare?
Finde out his Power which wildest Pow’rs doth tame,
His providence extending everie-where,
His justice which proud Rebels doeth not spare,
In everie Page, no, Period of the same:
But sillie wee (like foolish Children) rest
Well pleas’d with colour’d Velame, Leaves of Gold,
Faire dangling Ribbones, leaving what is best,
On the great Writers sense ne’er taking hold;
  Or if by chance our Mindes doe muse on ought,
  It is some Picture on the Margin wrought.3

There is revelation of God in created things, Drummond insists, but we are inclined to seek such knowledge only from books, especially the Bible (envision the gold-gilt edges and ribbon markers of your own Bible). If we could learn to “read” the “Booke of the World” we might be able to discover more of God’s wisdom, power, and justice. But we would need to learn how to turn the “sheetes and leaves” of this book—how to study and interpret the creation, like Brendan and the Celtic Christians—if we would gain this benefit and not remain “sillie Children” all our lives.

Revelation in creation

Christian theology has maintained from the beginning that God is revealing himself and his will in the things he has made. The revelation of God in creation is real revelation, as Berkouwer insisted, following the Westminster divines and Calvin.4 But these were merely following Aquinas, Eriugena, Augustine, and the Apostle Paul in developing the Biblical teaching that God, indeed, is making himself known in the works of creation and providence. As Psalm 19:1–4 (ESV) has it:

The heavens declare the glory of God,
  and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
  and night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words,
  whose voice is not heard.
Their measuring line goes out through all the earth,
  and their words to the end of the world.

Paul insisted that this revelation is clear and compelling (Romans 1:18–21). Everyone receives it, and everyone perceives in it a word from God about him and his will. But most people refuse to accept the hors d’ouvres God offers through the creation, to whet their appetites for the banquet of revelation to be discovered in his Word. They prefer to remain blissfully indifferent to God and to pursue their own idolatrous way in life.

Those who do know the Lord, and who understand that he is revealing himself in the creation, act too often like “sillie Children.” They will not add to the banquet of Scripture the condiments, sauces, and side dishes God passes to them, every day, every moment of every day, from the kitchen of creation. Or, if they do, what they “taste” is a mere trifling, some “Picture on the Margin.” And so their theology—their knowledge of God and his will—suffers. Nor does it produce the kind of spontaneous and rich worship and adoration of God as did the creational theology of Brendan and other Celtic saints.

Every Bible-believing Christian will affirm that God is making himself known through the things he has made. But very few of us have even the slightest clue concerning what to make of this creational revelation, nor any inclination to do so.

Creational theology

There is a discipline in the regimen of theological studies which is only beginning to receive proper attention. This is the discipline I have elsewhere5 referred to as creational theology. By this discipline a believer, standing on the foundation of Scripture and Jesus Christ, may expect, as an heir of Christ and vice-regent in his Kingdom, to discover the glory of God in created things, and be enriched thereby in wondrous and edifying ways.

Solomon wrote cryptically of this delightful discipline: “It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out” (Proverbs 25:2). By his own testimony, Solomon invested much time and effort in this very project (Ecclesiastes 1:13). God has “concealed” his glory in all kinds of created things. He is making himself known through the works of creation—the so-called natural world—and providence—the workings of creation, the wonders of culture, and the outworkings of human actions in all kinds of spheres. Solomon’s Proverbs are filled with observations of divine truth drawn from the realm of creation. Jesus was perhaps the greatest “creational theologian” of all time, espying in lilies, falling sparrows, coins, tragedies, the work of farmers, and much, much more eternal principles and divine truths which, as he pointed them out, left people amazed and awestruck at his insight and authority.

Some today are beginning to call the followers of Christ to a more responsible approach to his revelation in created things—whether the creation itself, the evidence of transcendent truth in film and novels, the echoes of deity in the machinations of the human psyche or the practice of law, or the wisdom of God in everyday situations and circumstances. In what follows I would like to propose a working procedure for beginning to take up the practice of creational theology in your own life, so that you, too, might enjoy the delight and benefit of being able to turn the sheets and leaves of the book of creation, and search out the glory of God concealed there.

Six activities

As I have practiced this discipline over the years, it involves six activities. These are not completely isolated steps, but interact with one another, refer to one another, and build on one another to produce a satisfying encounter with the glory of God, one that can enrich our knowledge of him and our understanding of his will. I will outline those activities in what follows, and illustrate from one of my own exercises in creational theology just how these may be followed.

1. Observation. The first step is observation. Find an object or focus on a situation, and examine it carefully, at some length. I spent one Saturday morning not long ago musing on an old stump at a retreat center not far from my home. I counted its rings, noted from the cut marks the type of saw used to fell the tree, and considered the various growths that had begun to spring up in the niches and nooks created by the passage of time. I made notes on everything, commenting on textures, colors, indicators of time, and the times in which the tree was alive (as expressed in the width or narrowness of its rings, and any indication of trauma in them).

In the observation phase you will want to make note of everything. Write down details. Draw out some preliminary associations. Carry a notebook or note cards with you, because you will not remember everything you will want to as you proceed to the next steps in the work of creational theology.

2. Association. In the work of creational theology we must never drift very far from Scripture. The Bible is the great light in which we will be able to search out whatever God is revealing to us in the lesser light of creation (Psalm 36:9). As I contemplated that stump I began to let various Scriptures about time, history, and the generations waft across my mind: “Number your days,” “Generations come, the generations go,” “Whatsoever things were written aforetime.”

I thought about the sovereignty of God over all of creation, and the Lord Jesus’ work of upholding the universe and all things in it by the Word of his power, as well as the pattern of history revealed in such passages as Revelation 12. I associated the little pine and oak seedlings, sprouting from the stump, with the generation born in the wilderness whom Joshua led into the land, and thought about how these little plants were drawing their initial nourishment from the dead wood of a plant from a previous generation. A lesson about history and my relationship to it began to form in my mind, as I kept taking notes and recording my thoughts and impressions, now in the light of God’s written revelation.

3. Integration. Association leads easily to integration, in which you try to bring together into language some conclusions based on your observations of the situation, thing, or event, and the Scripture it has provoked in your mind. I began to form some initial sentences to express what I was seeing and thinking: “We in our generation stand on the foundation of those who have gone before, and must be nourished by them.” “There are lessons from history that God wants us to learn. We must not ignore our heritage.” “The struggles and sacrifices of those who have gone before provide the direction and strength for the generations that succeed them.” “New life springs from death in God’s way and time. It is fragile, and must get firmly rooted in the earth, or it will not survive.” And so forth.

4. Meditation. By now you should have lots of notes, questions, Scripture references, and the beginnings of a cogent argument. Take some time to seek the Lord in prayer, offering up to him your observations and conclusions, listening for any other thoughts or passages of Scripture his Spirit may prompt, writing down additional impressions. Pray back to the Lord the sentences you have recorded, and begin in prayer to formulate them together into a statement that will capture in language the sum of your experience of God’s revelation. Pray this back to God over and over, allowing him to shape and clarify and form and perfect it until you arrive at a settled sense of what God has been showing you through his work.

5. Celebration. Like Brendan, celebrate what God has shown you. Praise him. Sing and worship. Shout out, jump up and down, get hilarious. Draw a picture, compose a song, take some photographs—whatever it takes to express to God the thrill of actually hearing him speak to you and make himself more fully known in this way. Typically, my celebration takes the form of a poem, because in a poem I can bring together my thoughts and feelings into a form that I can revisit in order to relive my experience over and over. Here’s the poem I wrote to celebrate my time listening to the Lord speak to me through that stump:

Frail Saplings

Old stump, old archive of a faded past,
your rings reveal the barest hint of lean
and fruitful years. Across your surface green
moss here and there appears, implanted fast
upon the legacy that former years
bequeathed. And in your niches I can see
frail, struggling saplings, like you used to be
so many years ago. Old stump, who hears
your muted witness? Who takes time to heed
your subtle warning, to decode the clues
inscribed upon you, or to learn your views,
discern your wisdom, or embrace your creed?
  We stand, the frailest saplings, rooted on
  the legacy of generations gone.

6. Proclamation. Don’t keep your experience to yourself. Tell someone else. That Saturday I was part of a group on a kind of creational theology field trip. So we all took time to share our experience and encourage one another by our encounter with the Lord. This led to a time of worship and praise which drew us all closer to the Lord, and to one another.

Practicing creational theology

Becoming adept at this cat-and-mouse game of creational theology takes a little doing, and a certain amount of preparation. It helps to read widely—about all manner of things in creation, culture, history, and so forth—and to reflect as you are reading on how these different subjects might speak to you about the glory of God.

It’s also helpful to read the works of others who have practiced this discipline: Alexander Schmemman, Phil Ryken, and Vigen Guroian come to mind, as do Gerard Manley Hopkins, Albrecht Durer, and a few others from the past. Such writers can help you “learn to look and listen” to what God is making known. Set aside some time each month for an exercise in creational theology. Keep a journal, with a section for conclusions as well as one for “observations-in-process.” Talk to others, and see if you can’t encourage a friend to take up this discipline with you. Learn to listen to fine music or to appreciate art; these can be rich sources of divine revelation. And make sure you keep studying and searching the Scriptures, for these must always be the touchstone for any work in creational theology.

When I was a kid I had a six-week stint at home with rheumatic fever, during which time I discovered a fascinating TV game show called Camouflage. Contestants would be shown a line drawing and told that in it was a picture of, oh, say, a cat. But the line drawing was something totally different—a busy downtown intersection with people, cars, buildings, kiosks, and lots of stuff beside. The contestants observed the drawing carefully, then they had to answer a question from the host. If they got it right, a little of the line drawing was peeled away. This went on until one contestant was ready to take the pointer and trace out the image of the cat. At that point it was game-over, and the amount of money won depended on how early in the game the sought-for object could be identified.

I lived for Camouflage each day. I loved the thought that something was concealed in there for me to search out and find. Many times I beat the contestants, and then I knew not only deep satisfaction, but a kind of pride that was, well, uplifting. It was great fun for a sick kid, even though it didn’t amount to anything lasting or truly substantial, unlike creational theology.

As Brendan and the other Celtic saints knew, great joy, insight, faith, and hope can be known by seeking out what God has concealed of His glory in the creation around them. May we in our day rediscover this game of divine “Camouflage,” not just as an amusing pastime, but as a means to real growth in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord.  

T. M. Moore is Dean of the Centurions Program of the Wilberforce Forum and Principal of The Fellowship of Ailbe, a spiritual fellowship in the Celtic Christian tradition. He is the author or editor of twenty books and has contributed chapters to four others. His essays, reviews, articles, papers, and poetry have appeared in dozens of national and international journals, and on a wide range of websites. His most recent books are The Ailbe Psalter and The Ground for Christian Ethics, (available at www.lulu.com/waxedtablet). He and his wife and editor, Susie, make their home in Concord, Tennessee.

Features, Arts and Culture, Environment and Creation, Spiritual Growth, Wed 25 Jul 2007