From My Nature Journal: Beulah Land

Strange name for a blogpost? Perhaps. Beulah is one of those unique Bible names, used just once to make a particular point; I happened to come across it again a couple days ago, and it struck me in a way it had not before. Stick with me for a bit.

Somewhere in my early childhood, my family knew an older woman by that name, though I cannot recall anything further than that. Thus my oldest memories are that it was a woman’s name. Then while working the mailroom in our denominational publishing house during grad school, I found it was the name of one of our churches in California. Strange name for a church, I thought, a woman’s name. Must have been quite a lady. Just kidding, but I obviously did not recall the Bible verse or know the meaning at the time. 

A post-exilic text from the Prophet Isaiah, it was written several hundred years prior to the birth of Jesus Christ, intended to give encouragement to the long-oppressed and exiled people of Israel, and it reads thus: “You shall no more be called Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate. But you shall be called My Delight Is In Her, and your land Beulah (that is, married) [Isaiah 62:4].”

A land called Married. Hmmm…

The term ‘Beulah Land’ was used by John Bunyan in Pilgrim’s Progress. It referred to a city of incredible peace found as one approached the end of the Christian journey, near the border of the Celestial City. From Beulah Land, one could begin to sense the beauties and character of Heaven itself. The term and its heaven themes were also picked up by several gospel hymn writers of the 19th Century, including Fanny Crosby (see hymn lyrics here). 

But a land called Married. Just think on that a bit…

Now, of course, much political dispute and bitter conflict takes place over ‘possession’ of that (hardly) peaceful Beulah land this past century, the land of Israel. Whose land is it? Who was there first? Has God metaphysically granted it as a physical possession? To whom? Who gains by right of conquest? Which conquest? Can two hotheaded cultures possibly share it, especially when some subcultures within are bent on the utter destruction of the other? What would need to happen for that sharing, or at least coexisting, to take place? It is perhaps the worst conundrum on the face of the planet, and often seems an intractable dilemma. Perhaps it is because both groups feel married to the land. And I don’t think that is how the text is to be understood anyway.

But stay there for a moment in a different way. What is marriage after all? And this is where my mind has gone these last couple of days since running across the Biblical text again. A different nuance of the ‘married to the land’ concept keeps occurring to me, not one of possessiveness or control, but one of sacrifice, perhaps even one that could help us all become better stewards of God’s creation.

Gail and I just celebrated our 48th anniversary this month. We learned long ago that some of the keys to a healthy marriage – with the most important being welcoming God at the center of our relationship – are to build each other up, to affirm each other and cherish one another, committing ourselves every single day to honor and bless the other rather than to take advantage of or exploit, certainly not to hurt. A marriage partner is not to be used (let alone abused) for one’s sole advantage.

What if our relationship to the land was similar? What if we saw ourselves as married to the land in this way? What if we also then saw land as not simply to be used (and certainly not abused), not to be exploited, but rather tenderly cared for, caressed, loved, honored? Again, what if our relationship to the land was not about possession but sacrifice? Like a very REAL relationship? What could be different? And of course as I muse on this, I think about the two little acres Gail and I are blessed to ‘own’ on this terrestrial orb (see Psalm 24:1), an acre plus in the northwoods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and another on Whidbey Island in Washington. Not a day goes by that we don’t feel gratitude for these small parcels. We love them. We are intimate with them. We know every nook and cranny, every contour, every plant and animal (OK, at least the majority), practically every single tree or rotting log on them. And we would never want them to be anything other than what they are, a simple and natural place for an abode. Far be it from us to hurt them. And it is a true truth that love is always the first step to fully caring for something, caring for it in a way that IT needs, not that WE need (though I am glad that what our two acres need and what we need are not in conflict with each other). 

This is vastly closer to an indigenous philosophy of the land than is the typical possession/consumption/exploitation model to which most of the world has become accustomed (which is not only Western, by the way). It seems that indigenous persons the world over held (and in some places, still hold) to a philosophy of a literal relationship with the land, going so far as to see the land and everything upon it as a relative. I like that very much.

Come to find out that the church named Beulah was adjacent to some of the richest and most fertile farmland of California’s amazing Central Valley, which makes me wonder if its founders had a line on this ‘married to the land’ idea long ago. What beauty could occur (and what healing might transpire) if we loved the land as if we were married to it? 

~~ RGM, August 20, 2024

From My Nature Journal: Recruitment from the Seed Bank

Amateur naturalists frequently encounter provocative things as they observe creation, things they may never have seen before and perhaps never will again. Presenting themselves by direct experience, all one needs to do is pay good attention to their surroundings and ask inquisitive mental questions about what one is observing. But alternately, as we continue to seek understanding, we go deeper and learn through our reading. We come across details that have been studied by scientists in differing fields, and are often introduced to concepts that become equally intriguing. I recently ran into one such as I was reading about invasive plants: recruitment from the seed bank.

Anyone who pays attention to plants has encountered invasives -- whether kudzu in the Southeast, tamarisk in the Southwest, Scotch broom or English ivy in the Northwest, knotweed in the Northeast, milfoil in northern lakes or knapweed in the Midwest. My interest last week was purple loosestrife, a beautiful species brought to the USA as a cultivar in the 1800’s for
ornamental and medicinal use. In the last several decades it has proliferated such, especially in wet, marshy areas, that there are several states that have banned its sale. Like other invasives it chokes out native plants, and is especially damaging to species, both flora and fauna, already under other threats. We often see it in our travels across the northern states. 

But here’s the particular problem with loosestrife. It can grow to seven feet or more and can put out 2 to 3 million seeds per plant, regularly overwhelming nearby terrain in a hurry. And what’s worse is that the seeds are opportunists, and can lay dormant for years until just the right (or wrong!) ground disturbance brings them to the surface, presenting their perfect growing conditions; they then multiply so quickly that the land steward doesn’t know what hit them, and very soon it’s too late to manage. Recruitment from the seed bank, botanists call it. 

Now, that’s a rich concept, and it got me to thinking about just how much, and in just how many ways, that reality is active in our lives. And it can go either direction – to our or others’ benefit or to our or others’ detriment. Choosing to love makes for future recruitment from the seed bank. But so does choosing to hate. Small acts of kindness and mercy pay seeds forward. They come back to us. But so does the holding of resentment, or the withholding of forgiveness. Faith is a powerful investment in the seed bank. But a critical spirit is also; it’s just in the opposite direction to something positive. Even such things as people of faith memorizing Bible verses becomes a contribution to some kind of an endowment fund, what the Bible speaks of as ‘hiding God’s word in our hearts,’ so that its truth will come back to us in specific situations when we need it the most. I love the way Eugene Peterson paraphrased Psalm 119:11 – “I’ve banked your promises in the vault of my heart so I will not sin myself bankrupt.”

Choosing to love makes for future recruitment

from the seed bank. Small acts of kindness and

mercy do the same. They come back to us.

Each of the above practices – loving, hating, showing mercy, resenting, withholding forgiveness, acting in faith, criticizing, committing the Bible to memory – each of them stores up seeds for the future. Each of them, and so many more, bear fruit in times when the right (or wrong) conditions come calling. The question is, is it good fruit or bad? Is it a welcome wildflower or an invasive or noxious weed? Does it build up or destroy?

A beloved seminary professor of mine described even church work in this way as the constant planting of seeds. And I have surely found this to be so as a pastor. Things ‘sown’ one day may sprout quickly or can take an excruciatingly long time to produce an effect. These latter can lie buried. They’re dormant, but not dead, kept from action until a disturbance. My prof called pastoral work ‘soil work,’ preparation of the seed bank. We constantly lay the seed, then wait and watch for a disturbance – ‘a crisis, a visitation of the Holy Spirit to recruit the seed, surface it and let it sprout.’ 

But it’s not just true of pastoring work. It’s true of parenting work, of marriage work, in fact of all relational work. So, sow only good seed. Sow a LOT of it. Then trust God’s recruitment from your seed bank.

~~ RGM, July 27 2024

Photo of the Month – The Gloriole

There are many, many things in nature that catch one’s eye, and a rarer few that catch one’s soul. One such thing caught me recently that delighted me so that I thought I’d share it with you.

Its common name is a sun halo, but there are other names for it that can even challenge pronunciation –aureole (aw-RAY-o-luh or AW-ree-oll) or gloriole GLO-ree-oll). It’s a refracted circle of light around the midday sun caused by ice crystals in high, hazy cirrus clouds, showing a faint rainbow coloring within the golden glow. And though I have written about it before (and that post may be found here if you’re interested), its recent appearance motivates me to a reprise. 

This atmospheric phenomenon is not even particularly rare, in fact happens with some frequency. And there are two good reasons why they are often missed. (Perhaps I should say three good reasons, as it first requires the curiosity to pay attention to one’s surroundings! There are SO many glories in God’s creation that are simply there for the enjoying if we would be watchful for them.) But here are the reasons even seasoned nature watchers can miss them. First, one needs to look nearly straight up, high into the midday sky, and craning one’s neck is often neither natural nor comfortable. Second, the kind of high haze that produces the halo also makes for a very, very bright sky, one from which we would typically avert our eyes, so our natural inclination is to avoid its brightness. I might not even have seen it myself if my daughter Maren had not texted me a photo from her home fifty miles away, asking if it was showing where we lived. Sharing this glory with her made the experience doubly delightful. 

The best way to find one is to look up occasionally on hazy, sunny middays to check quickly for the circle or the glow; if you see something promising, extend your fist to arm’s length to completely block the sun’s orb. There it’ll be, surrounding your hand. (You can also try this with the more common early or late day sun dogs, aka parhelia or mock suns; it gives you a better chance to appreciate their color as well.) Then enjoy the splendor! If you want to take a photo and find it awkward while holding your fist high in the air (!), position the sun behind a light pole, treetop, or even a building. I happened to be volunteering that day at our nearby historic Admiralty Head Lighthouse when my daughter texted, so ended up going outside and letting the tower do my blocking. (Forgive the vapor trails in the photos -- when I went back at a later break, the halo was gone.)

Fun fact: do you remember seeing religious art that depicts noteworthy holy people having a halo hovering over or around their head? These are also technically called an aureole or gloriole in religious tradition, based on the natural phenomenon. (Want to see a cute movie? Check out “Millions,” a truly charming story of a modern day child who sees visions of historic Christian saints.) And here’s something else that could be fun to try: if you happen to see a gloriole while walking with a friend or loved one, have them get between you and the sun’s orb and position their head to block it; then get down low and far enough away to snap a photo with the halo seemingly surrounding their head. This will surely be a memorable expression of the high esteem in which they are held!

Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears, let them hear! (Matthew 13:43)

From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets the Lord’s name is to be praised. (Psalm 113:3)

~~ RGM, June 15, 2024

From My Nature Journal on Earth Day: “…That Nothing May Be Lost”

I don’t want to make too much of it, but it seemed more than a coincidence. It was Earth Day, and I had been thinking a lot about that as the holiday approached. I was doing something completely common that day, practically an everyday experience, reading and thinking through a Bible passage. On that particular day the text happened to be an account jammed with familiarity, the Gospel text of Jesus’ miraculous feeding of the five thousand, perhaps the most well-known miracle story in the Bible, one that many others and I recall from our earliest childhood days. 

But the story clips along familiarly. Late in the story Jesus has already done the unbelievable, the people have all been fed, and near the close of the account, as it is told, Jesus does a very pedestrian thing: he asks his helpers to gather up all the leftover pieces, “…that nothing may be lost.”  That phrase hit me in a curious way. I’ve seen it a million times, but perhaps never on an Earth Day. 

Consider this image of a vast number of people the likes of which you and I have only seen at a professional sporting or entertainment event. They eat until satiated, the account says. That’s a lot of food. But with all these people there is no doubt an enormous mess to clean up after lunch – fish bones, utensils and receptacles of sorts -- work done with twenty thousand or more oily hands (the text says ‘five thousand men;’ women and children would have at least doubled the number), fully two hundred thousand greasy fingers. And Jesus asks that the leftovers not be forgotten. I’m not sure what would have been done with them that day. The text doesn’t indicate it, though I have personally witnessed a feeding ministry in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where edible table scraps were gathered in large plastic buckets after hundreds had been fed, and then made available to the latecomers. Hunger is hunger.

But, “…that nothing may be lost,” Jesus said. 

Now, that was not a philosophy that would be new to Jesus. In numerous places he teaches about the value of lost things being found. Lost things are worth going after. Especially lost people. “I have come to seek and save the lost,” he even lovingly said. It seems his philosophy with people was the same as his philosophy with food scraps. Still, it was delightful to me on that Earth Day to reflect on the fact that Jesus was concerned that no food be wasted. 

So very much is lost in our consumer culture, so very much wasted. What if we lived by the philosophy that nothing of true value be lost? Yet, wherever humans have seemed to set foot, God’s creation almost always has degraded. 

God’s creation in its natural state, untrammeled by people, has an uncanny way also of not wasting anything. Poet, naturalist, author and innovation consultant Janine Benyus is the creative mind behind the philosophical concept of ‘biomimicry,’ defined as ‘the practice of learning from nature, then imitating what we find.’ It is a fascinating subject. (More can be found here.) But here is the crux of the concept in Benyus’ own words:

Nature runs on sunlight.

Nature uses only the energy it needs.

Nature fits form to function.

Nature recycles everything.

Nature rewards cooperation.

Nature banks on diversity.

Nature demands local expertise.

Nature curbs excesses from within.

Nature taps the power of limits.

In short, Benyus insists, nature ‘relentlessly creates conditions conducive to life.’ 

So does God, in lots of ways. And there’s no question in my mind whether or not God intended that very same thing with his creation. I believe God did. You and I, as co-sustainers with God of God’s good earth, are stewards, an old word that means we care for something as if it were our own, with the commitment to return it in as good or better of a condition than when we received it. 

It is not too late. Whether it’s Earth Month or not, take hold of the miracle that is creation. Honor it. Cherish it. And work to see that we lose nothing.

~~ RGM, April 24 2024

Blowin’ in the Wind: “Seasons of Nature” -- by Ilana

("Blowin’ in the Wind" is a periodic feature on my blog containing an assortment of nature writings – songs, excerpts, poems, prayers, Bible readings or other things – pieces written by others but that inspire me or give me joy. I trust they’ll do the same for you.)

I know I just did a “BitW” feature last month, and I cannot recall if I’ve ever shared a work by a family member, but I cannot resist avoiding either of these this month. My wife Gail and I just received a special gift from our eight-year-old granddaughter Ilana, and it tickled us so that I thought you might appreciate it as well. 

Each of our eleven grandchildren has their own special personality, and we love every one of them more than life itself. Ilana? She is a beautiful child full of the wonder of life, and of the love both of people and of God’s creation. She is also a ton of fun to be around in spite of the fact that she sometimes tells me I have been demoted to ‘the second-funniest person in the family’ behind our son, her Uncle Jarrett. But that never lasts long, and she typically and appropriately restores me to the throne quite quickly. (Sorry, Jarrett...)

And the girl DOES love God’s creation! It is always a pleasure to hike with her because she notices things, a key characteristic of nature lovers and all of us who find in nature an important spiritual pathway to God. She also calls herself Grandpa’s ‘nature companion’ whenever she and I hop on our ATV and pick up trash along the county road near our Michigan cabin. In other words, she is already concerned about Earth care. It’s therefore fitting that her name is even natural: ‘ilana’ is one of several Hebrew words for ‘tree,’ most often associated with oaks. That was not surprising when we first heard her name after her birth, as her father is a horticulturist, though I don’t know if that had anything to do with it at the time!

Upon our arrival for a visit last month, Ilana told Gail and me she had something for us, then with a shy smile gave us the hand-printed original of a poem she had written a few days before during a rest time she and her sibs take after lunch. We thought it precious, and so I present to you here Ilana’s “Seasons of Nature,” with her spellings and punctuation intact. Enjoy!

When the first snowflakes fall

When one by one they start then thousands shimer in the sky

When fluffy snow covers everything

When sparkling white they glisten megestic do they look

When few sounds nor animals are there only robins or none

Then do you know that Winter is here.

When the drifts are small yet get smaller each day

When the flowers peek from the wet soil

When the air is warm and damp

When animals wake up and continue their lives

When the areas are colerful 

Then do you know that spring is here

When the leaves on the trees turn green

When the air is schorching

When water is the want for outside fun

When ice cream and cold treats turn from a cream to a liquid faster than a hummingbird

When animals are everywhere trees, grass, sky

Then do you know that summer is here

When the air becomes colder and jackets required

When the leaves turn vibrant colers of yellow, orange and, bloodred

When nuts fall to the ground

When animals scurry to get food and store it for winter

When people start getting snow shovels and hot chochlate

Then do you know that Autum is here

I want to live nowhere else for

Seasons Make a year a year.

And, oh, I can’t forget her dedication from the back of the page: 

Dedicated

To

Papa and

Grandma

Whom love

Me and Nature

Very much

With Love

Isn’t that delightful? The simple, fresh and wondering thoughts of a child… amazingly compelling. 

I don’t know if you’ve paid attention to a malady that is oft-touted by psychologists over the last two decades, but the dysfunction has to do with nature deprivation. Exposure to the natural world has been proven to improve mental, social and emotional health in profound ways, to say nothing of the spiritual dimension of celebrating the beauty of the Lord’s sanctuary. Nature outings are being prescribed as treatment for both adults and kids. We’d all do our children and grandchildren an enormous service by getting them outdoors regularly, establishing natural rhythms and opportunity for healing while they are young, whether they are super eager to go or not. 

Please excuse my diversion into preaching -- it’s an occupational hazard! So skip that paragraph, take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and go back and read Ilana’s poem again. Then getcha self outdoors at the next possible opportunity.

~~ From a Grandpa ‘whom’ loves his grand-

children and nature very, VERY much, 

RGM, March 19 2024

Blowin’ in the Wind: Mary Oliver -- “My Work is Loving the World”

("Blowin’ in the Wind" is a periodic feature on my blog containing an assortment of nature writings – songs, excerpts, poems, prayers, Bible readings or other things – pieces I haven’t written but that inspire me or give me joy. I trust they’ll do the same for you.)

I want to share with you today a poem from one of my favorites, Mary Oliver. My sister-in-law Beth recommended her to me one time when I was visiting her and my brother’s home. And what do you know? There just happened to be a book of Oliver’s poetry there at the bedstand in their guest bedroom. Once I found that my hosts went to bed a lot earlier than me, it gave me plenty of opportunity that visit to spend some time with her writing. 

Mary Oliver was an American poet who died in 2019. A Pulitzer Prize winner for her 1983 American Primitive, much of her work has a natural bent to it, which is what attracts me to it. Some of her critics call her too accessible, but to me, that is hardly a criticism but a compliment. When it comes to poetry, I need accessibility! Though not a woman of declared religion, I find not infrequent references to the divine or sacred in her work, which is welcome to me as a person of faith. Having written twenty books of poetry and six of prose, her collection Devotions is a compilation of many favorites written over a fifty year span from the 60’s to the twenty-tens, and would be a great place for new readers to begin.

The poem I share here is titled “Messenger” from her 2006 collection Thirst. Her life-long habit of solitary walks, and the place these played in her inspiration, may easily be imagined.

My work is loving the world.

Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird--

equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

 

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me

keep my mind on what matters…

 

which is mostly standing still and learning to be

astonished.

The robin, the rosehips.

The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.

Which is mostly rejoicing,

since all the ingredients are here,

 

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart

and these body-clothes,

a mouth with which to give shouts of joy

to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,

telling them all, over and over, how it is

that we live forever.

What are three of the important things that matter? Not only in natural observation but in life? Astonishment, joy and gratitude, she says. These not only build a life but call us deeper into creation care, because we care for the things we love. 

My work is loving the world. Not a bad gig. Sounds like Jesus.

~~ RGM, February 29 2024

From My Nature Journal: Is Creation Still Happening?

Sure, the typical default of us who believe that it truly was God who created all things is this sense that God did so at some point in the past, Genesis 1 and 2 and all. But I wonder about that sometimes. I like to think that creation is still happening. 

The deeper and deeper we go into the faraway cosmological mysteries of the universe and the nearby complexities of the human brain, for example, the more we seem to see how these things just eventually have a sense about them that we only discover a little at a time. To me, that is the revealing and unraveling of the creation story. And if that cannot be considered by some as creation still happening, perhaps it is at least simply God still creating something in us, and that not just for those with spiritual eyes (Matthew 13:13-15).

I watched the move Oppenheimer a couple nights ago. One cannot help but be impressed with humankind’s ability to garner previous knowledge in multiple disciplines and bring it to bear on a new creative challenge in crisis situations. Of course, what was created in that circumstance was a weapon of mass destruction with a checkered history since and an unpredictable and nerve-wracking future. Nevertheless, what was said could not possibly be done was done. What was not understood to make sense eventually made sense. We ‘discover’ things that border on or cross over into the realm of the unbelievable, but then, in time, they become not only believable but even logical. The imponderables become ponderable, then in turn plausible, comprehensible and finally understandable.

I recently read of a ‘new discovery’ of an enormous ring of galaxies reported to the American Astronomical Society. The laws of cosmological physics as we know them cannot account for such a thing as a ring of galaxies. The cosmos is relatively random, obeying known laws of nature such as gravity and inertia. It is supposedly just not possible for a ring of galaxies to exist, and this discovery challenges what seems to be known of the cosmos. Yet there it is a gazillion miles away.

And this is the way it seems again and again – not only in scientific cosmology but in medicine, technology, biology and the other sciences, sociology, exploration, you name it. 

Maybe even faith. Forgiveness given and received. Impossible? Relationships restored. Preposterous? Peacemaking. Outlandish? Healing of mind, soul or body. Absurd? Humans have the capacity to create monstrous things, but we also have the capacity to join in on what God creates for our good.

The Christian reformer Martin Luther once said, “God made the world out of nothing. It is only when we become nothing that God can make something out of us.”

Maybe creation never quits. 

For God chose… things that are not to nullify the things that are, so that no one can boast in the presence of God. (1 Corinthians 1:28-29)

By him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible… All things were created through him and for him. (Colossians 1:16)

~~ RGM, January 31, 2024