Nature’s Sermon
The other day, I was headed out to meet a friend for a hike. I was already running late and didn’t want to be any later. My GPS said I was 29 miles from my destination, and my truck said I had 35 miles of gas left in the tank. Cutting it close? Definitely. But I decided to risk it.
How many times have you done that?
What about when it’s your spiritual tank running low? Do you just keep pushing forward, hoping for the best? Or do you pause—refuel—with prayer, Scripture, or time with a faith-filled friend who can help point you back to God?
I’ve had seasons where I ran on spiritual fumes for so long that I wondered if I’d ever feel full again. I’d try to pray, but the words wouldn’t come. I’d open my Bible, but my mind wandered.
When I feel that disconnection, I know it’s time to go outside.
There’s something about nature—God’s masterpiece—that draws us back to Him.
Few things make me feel closer to God than standing in the middle of His creation:
Walking beneath the towering redwoods, feeling small in the best way.
Breathing mountain air while surrounded by green valleys and birdsong.
Gazing at the Milky Way, marveling that the God who made those stars also knows my name.
It’s humbling and comforting all at once. Nature resets my soul. It reminds me of His greatness and how deeply connected I am to Him, even in moments of quiet.
Francis Bacon once said, “God wrote two books: the Bible and creation.” To me, creation feels like a hymn—if you pay close enough attention, you can hear it sing.
That day, we didn’t end up hiking. Instead, we drove to the coast, sat on the bluffs, and talked for hours.
The waves crashed below us as the sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink, and I thought of Psalm 139:
“If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.” (Psalm 139:9-10)
Isn’t it comforting to know that no matter where we are—or even what trouble we’ve gotten ourselves into—God is there to lead us and hold us?
Later in that same Psalm, we read:
“How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.” (Psalm 139:17-18)
As we sat in silence, it felt like the ocean was preaching its own sermon: a wordless hymn of His strength, His glory, and His constant presence.
As the sun slipped below the horizon, dozens of people lined the cliffs with us, watching the same breathtaking display. Poets, painters, and even Gandhi have tried to capture what it feels like:
“When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator.” – Gandhi
Without words, God was speaking. And my soul felt full again.
When our spiritual tanks run low, sometimes the best thing we can do is step outside—away from the noise, the screens, and the endless “to-do” lists—and meet Him in the stillness of His creation.
Because nature doesn’t just point to Him—it sings of Him.