[Part 4 of 4]
Virtually endless variety. Science has a word for nature’s great variety: biodiversity. And for virtually every variant, scientists offer supposed practical values. Male cardinals are brilliant red and more striking than the dull orange females in order to get the female’s attention for mating. So why do male and female blue jays look the same? The males of some species are larger than the females—in order that they can protect the females. So why are females of some species larger than the males? Some insect species are brilliant colored—in order to attract attention. So why are other insect species dull in color to keep from attracting attention? Recently I heard a scientist say that biologists once thought they knew why a certain animal did a particular thing, but new observations have forced the conclusion, “We don’t have a clue why it does it!” That was a refreshing admission to hear. Might we not be justified in concluding that the endless variety in nature is just another aspect of God’s boundless creativity? The amazing variety within creation caused a famous evolutionist to say that “God must have been fond of beetles—since He made so many of them” (over 350,000 variants identified so far).
Amazing adaptability. Charles Darwin used his observation of finches on the Galapagos Islands to formulate the theory that the capacity of the birds in that isolated region to adapt to a great variety of food sources is the function that “created” all life forms. Such adaptation (“natural selection”) is the origin of all species, he concluded. His observations were truly significant as are the thousands of similar observations made by other biologists since that time. It is obvious that God gave His creatures the capacity to change in this manner. This capacity is often called “microevolution” a highfalutin term that simple means “small changes.” We can see small changes like this in many similar animal and plant groups. Such changes, however, are noted only in creatures that retain their primary basic life functions and form. Can an evolutionary scientist explain why a non-scientist like me could not logically conclude that natural adaptation is more evidence of God’s design than proof of Darwin’s conjecture that all living things had their source in one simple life form that without direction or purpose through the course of minute changes created all the diversity and complexity we see in life around us.
Remarkable harmony Perhaps even more amazing than the creation’s adaptability is its harmony. Even though we know from our observations in the wild that only the most fit creatures survive the longest, this melody of competition is underscored by a broader and deeper natural harmony without which nothing could survive. Scientists are often astounded by instances of inter-species cooperation that are being discovered regularly: Tree roots that do a slow dance around each other and benefit each other for the health of the forest, pollinators by the hundreds sailing without conflict through the vast sea of blossoms in a mesquite grove, and cactus plants giving each other the space they need to obtain enough water to make it in what to us seems to be a “hostile” environment. Capitalism is an economic theory based on the importance of competition, but if our present economic woes are to teach us anything, they should prove to us that competition without a foundation of moral and ethical harmony is merely chaos. Our Creator’s natural systems cannot function without basic harmonious relationships. You would think that since mankind is made in the image of its Creator, we’d know our human systems cannot exist on competition alone.
Overwhelming beauty. I believe it’s significant that in the Genesis creation account the first fact mentioned about the trees of the garden was that they were “pleasing to the eye” (Gen. 2:9). For this reason I'm convinced that the beauty we see and sense in the natural world is one of the most important evidences of God’s divine nature. Nineteenth century American statesman George Bancroft expressed it like this: “Beauty is but the sensible image of the Infinite. Like truth and justice it lives within us; like virtue and the moral law it is a companion of the soul.” In commenting on William Cullen Bryant’sbeliefs about beauty in nature, theologian Augustus Strong observed: “The external world is beautiful, because unfallen. It shares with man the effects of sin; but whenever we retreat from the regions which man’s folly has despoiled, we may find something that reminds us of our lost Paradise.” John Muir believed that “everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike.” The value of natural beauty to the human soul was what inspired the masterful landscape painter Thomas Cole, founder of the Hudson River Schoolof painting. With his paintings he wanted to put people back in touch with the Creator. He hoped his paintings would give city-dwelling admirers a yearning for the outdoors where they too could discover what he had—that “in gazing on the pure creations of the Almighty, he feels a calm religious tone steal through his mind, and when he has turned to mingle [again] with his fellow men, the chords which have been struck in that sweet communion cease not to vibrate.” Maybe that’s why I admire Cole’s paintings and not Picasso’s. If we saw something like a Picasso in nature, we’d know at once it did not come from God’s hands! Beauty may be nature’s most profound apologist for God.
Extravagant fruitfulness. It is hard to find a more exuberant expression of praise for God’s abundance than the one penned by the Hebrew psalmist David:
You visit the earth and water it, you greatly enrich it; the river of God is full of water; you provide their grain, for so you have prepared it. You water its ridges abundantly, you settle its furrows; you make it soft with showers, you bless its growth. You crown the year with your goodness, and your paths drip with abundance. They drop on the pastures of the wilderness, and the little hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered with grain; they shout for joy, they also sing (Ps 65:9-13 NKJV).
The fruitfulness of the earth and all its creatures is a major theme both of the biblical creation story and the re-population of the earth after the Flood. In both instances the Creator’s mandate is that the non-human creatures should “be fruitful and multiply,” and then that people should “be fruitful and multiply.” We all have the capacity to multiply because the earth produces enough food for us all to live and thrive. But there’s a major difference between these two major forms of “living creatures”: people have dominion over the animals. This means that animals are ultimately at our mercy. Yet if we had to feed the animals, that would be our full-time job! For this reason, of course, we are blessed in that the animals are taken care of by God. The Psalms in particular speak of the wilderness as God’s great larder where “the young lions roar after their prey, and seek their food from God” and where God gives the great sea creatures “their food in due season” (Psa. 104). Psalm 145 affirms the same: “The eyes of all look to You, and You give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.” And God does that because He “is gracious and full of compassion,” and His “tender mercies are over all His works” (vv 8-16 NIV). The amazing fruitfulness of the earth that provides both for us and for the creatures of the wilderness is a gift from a righteous, gracious, merciful, and loving Creator. As its stewards then, mankind has a divine mandate to preserve its capacity to be fruitful.
Sacrificial nurture. When I was about ten I came across a baby killdeer, and my instinct was to “save it” by capturing it. Being naturally endowed with long legs, the little bird made a successful run for shelter. As I was trying to lay my hands on it, my eye was distracted by another bird—a larger one flapping helplessly on the ground only a few feet away. What luck, I thought; and I quickly went off in pursuit of this new prey. After about a fifty-yard scamper, however, I called off the chase—because the “injured” bird suddenly took flight. I watched it fly without handicap over to the spot where I first saw the baby bird, which was now far from my reach. I’d been fooled by the mother killdeer, which had merely feigned injury to draw me away from her fledgling. She had risked capture and death to save her young, just as other birds commonly do—and countless other creatures. Many other examples of this sort of natural devotion continue to be a humbling inspiration to human parents and other caregivers who are often put to shame by animal devotion and self-sacrifice—such as mother birds caught in prairie fires who cover their chicks with their wings, dying so the new generation will live
Dean Ohlman is a nature writer for RBC Ministries, the publisher of the devotional booklet Our Daily Bread. Dean is the host of the RBC website The Wonder of Creation.
