God pursues each of us, even as children.  Do you believe that?

Think back to that time as a child when nature grabbed your attention. Perhaps it was your first glance through a telescope at the tiny specks of light clustered around a nearby “star”—the gigantic planet Jupiter with its orbiting moons.  Or maybe a blazing montage of reds, greens, and yellows from a field of wildflowers, and their floral perfume after a spring shower.  Or, perhaps it was the amazing transformation of a disgusting green and spiny worm inside that mysterious cocoon as a beautiful, hand-sized and delicate pale-green Luna moth emerged.

Think back – what was your experience?

Something in that moment made you marvel at nature.  How would you describe your emotions… awe, astonishment, joy, or perhaps even the overwhelming Presence of something larger?

Consider the following Biblical verses:

• . . . that which is known about God is evident within them (mankind); for God made it evident to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made. . .  (Romans 1:19, 20).
• The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands (Ps. 19:1).

Scripture clearly states that we learn of God’s character through nature – His creation.  Genuine creation theology seeks an unbiased view of nature—a view that reveals His embedded attributes.  And, after a face-to-face encounter with “His eternal power and divine nature,” you marvel in astonishment.  Multitudes encounter and acknowledge God through His creation (Romans 1:18-23).

I had an early “God encounter” on our family ranch in central Texas as a 16-year-old boy.  It changed my concept of God from a “scary and distant Judge” into an unfathomably powerful Father who loved me and worked wonders to get my attention.  I still recall the vivid details of that day when “His eternal power and divine nature” nearly blew me away… literally.

*      *      *

A late-May afternoon…  cloudy…  with warm, humid air so heavy you could cut it with a knife.  A storm was brewing.

Massive thunderstorms intrigued me – they always have.  And they abound in central Texas.  I love to watch the scattered puffy clouds explode into giant, billowing thunderheads.  The incredible power in that first rush of cool wind, the blasts of lightning and torrential rain—it all thrills me.  And lastly, the amazing serenity that permeates the atmosphere and fills the senses as violence switches in an instant to eerie, tranquil calmness.

This could be one of those storms.

I hurried to finish the last of my after-school ranch chores – check the cattle, repair a fence, move the tractors, and now feed the calf.  I drove up the small hill toward the barn through an open gap in the fence beside the ancient mesquite tree.  Actually, there were two trees – it branched at ground surface into two trunks, each about two-feet in diameter and tough as steel.  You could hardly drive a nail or fence staple through the bark.

The barn had stood on the hill for almost a century.  Massive wooden logs were interspersed with steel beams that made the structure more fortress than barn.  It securely protected our hay and seed oats. We kept medicine, special feed, and other supplies in a small, interior room.  Outside were several wooden pens and a corral where we trapped, inspected, and doctored the cattle.  One pen was partially covered and protected by the barn; it held a one-month-old calf recovering from illness.  I hurried into the small room and filled a one-pound Folgers coffee can with medicated feed and dumped it into the calf’s feed trough.  For sake of time, I set the empty can on top of a large vertical post – an upright, railroad cross-tie buried deeply in the ground that served as bracing next to the barn.

Finished!  And just in time.  A thick and ugly, dark greenish-gray cloud-deck now covered the sky – even the atmosphere felt threatening.  A heavy calmness hung over the hilltop like a dense curtain, and it seemed to take an effort just to breathe.  I could hear distant, rolling thunder.  Good reason to leave, but it was also nearly time for dinner – and I was hungry.  I jumped into the farm truck to drive the few miles back home and took one last glance across the large pasture at the foot of the hill.

One of the strangest sights I have ever seen stopped me cold.

With each approaching storm, our cattle would instinctively wander into their favorite section of thick woods for protection from rain or hail.  This was standard behavior.  I had observed it many times.  Instead, that afternoon they were tightly clustered, side-by-side in a large herd standing motionless in the middle of the pasture.  I stared with curiosity – they were simply standing together in a tightly-packed group, as if trapped inside a corral.  Cows don’t do that! I pondered.  A cool breeze blew across the hilltop in advance of the storm, reminding me to leave.

I left for home, and dinner, reflecting on the herd’s odd behavior.  How strange was that? I mused during the trip back, Perhaps Dad will have some insight; anyhow, he will insist we return and check things later this evening, after the storm.

*      *      *

Mom had dinner waiting for the family, faithful as always, and the storm passed through while we ate.  Dad was intrigued by the cattle’s strange herding behavior and he, too, seemed puzzled.  As I suspected, we were back in the truck heading to the ranch shortly after dinner with only an hour of remaining daylight.

First though, I must pause and provide a few details about my faith, and where I stood with God at the time.

My Mom and her parents faithfully attended a Bible Belt church for decades.  She insisted that my sister and I attend every church service as regularly as we could.  We had great friends there, and many wonderful people attended.  It is curious, though, how five people can hear the same message and leave with five different take-aways.  My take-away from those messages included, God expects you to serve Him, knock on doors, teach classes, and on and on, and it shaped my perspective of God.  I must earn His favor, and perhaps my salvation, by working for it.  God must be respected and feared, and I must serve Him to please Him.  My Mom was the most obedient and sweet-spirited person I knew, but I struggled.  Had I done enough?  Could I ever do enough?  Did God really love me?  He became the “Distant Judge,” and perhaps someday I might be allowed to enter His presence.

On the other hand, my Dad attended a different church as a young adult.  He was taught that God loves us so intensely that He sent His Son to this planet to teach mankind, and ultimately die as the supreme sacrifice to remove our sins.  God loves us because He is Love, and He created us for relationship with Him as the Father, and not as a distant Judge.  My Dad worked hard to care for his family, like the Father cared for him.  He helped others in need.  His God was kind and gracious.  This was not the God I knew as a boy.

*      *      *

“So how much did it rain?”  We tried to guess from the size of the muddy puddles alongside the road.

“At least two inches,” I volunteered – I was usually wrong.  We approached the hill from its back side, driving through a wooded lane that ended on the hilltop next to an old homestead, just a few hundred feet from the barn.  A fresh layer of oak leaves and small branches littered the lane—this had been a serious wind storm.  But we were totally unprepared for the sight that met us.

“Where’s the barn?” I asked, in disbelief.

My Dad was silent, also in disbelief.  Where a century-old landmark stood only an hour or two earlier was now a barren piece of ground, literally sheared-off by a ferocious tornado.  There were no wooden logs or steel beams, and very little debris.

We could trace the path of the twister by the blown-over grass—it must have been at least a hundred yards across at ground surface.  Sheets of metal siding—the only visible remnants of the barn, now wrapped around the trees—flagged the twister’s departure path across distant pastures.  The barn was simply… gone.  The pens and corral were gone.  Only a few fence posts managed to survive.  The baby calf was gone.  It was utter destruction.

We sat and stared… and God began to knock on my door.  Thoughts penetrated my mind, Severe rain and wind would have pummeled me had I lingered to watch the storm.  I would have sought refuge inside the barn and become a fatality, like the calf.  God sent that cool breeze to chase me home at just the right moment.  I pondered at the immeasurable power within God’s creation that could simply erase a massive barn, and yet He was no “distant Judge.” God had been nearby… He cared enough to intervene and save me through His Divine nature… He must know me personally.  This was heavy.

We drove across the hilltop and scanned the pasture below.  The cattle were scattered and peacefully grazing—normal for this time of evening just prior to nightfall.  And then we noticed the path from where the tornado had approached.  Across the pasture were the distant woods where the cattle normally hung out during rainy weather. The twister had crossed their favorite hideout, leaving a bull-dozed and chain-sawn strip of destruction.  They would have been slaughtered.  Instead, they stood tightly clustered in the middle of the field, away from the woods and flying shrapnel.

How did they know?

I’m confident that a cow’s IQ never exceeds the single digit range.  And yet, I’ve heard Dad say, “You know, cows are a lot smarter than some people give them credit for.” Somehow these animals knew, well in advance of the storm, to remain clustered in the field away from their hangout, while I was clueless. I processed, God must have engineered some inner genetic bovine code – but wait, does God care for cattle? Paul asked a similar question in I Corinthians 9:9, and as Paul reasoned, this analogy was actually meant for me.

And then another thought knocked away: God placed me on that hilltop at just the right moment to see their strange behavior.  It’s clear the tornado intersected their hangout.  Somehow the cattle knew. Somehow He saved them.  Satan came to destroy; and yet, somehow… through His Divine nature, God intervened… and He wanted me to witness it.  Psalm 18:48 proclaims, “He (God) delivers me from my enemies; surely You lift me above those who rise up against me; you rescue me from the violent man.” God had thwarted Satan’s attempts to destroy—both me and the cattle.  I began to feel overwhelmed, like a second-grade student in a college classroom.

We started down the hill to check the herd for injuries and passed through the gap near the ancient mesquite.  Again, we stopped!  Where two giant trunks had stood an hour earlier, only one remained.  The other had snapped three feet above ground, like a splintered toothpick.  And, like the barn, it too was simply gone.

I knew this tree… I knew how tough and hard that trunk had to be.  I ruined my Dad’s new handsaw a few months earlier by cutting off a large limb to carve as a gunstock.  Snapping a mesquite trunk of this size required phenomenal energy.  And the other trunk was untouched… a focused display of ‘Eternal Power’ like I never imagined.  God is love, but He is also sovereign.  He raises one up and He takes another away, what can stand against Him?  I understood this concept (Isa. 19:4), He chose to take one trunk and leave the other.  But why?

God had been all over this hilltop—and apparently, he was chasing me.

We entered the pasture and drove through the scattered herd expecting to find wooden shrapnel embedded in one or more of the cattle.  It was late and we were losing daylight.  We never found an injured animal.   However, just as we were leaving, we stumbled upon one more stunning site.

There stood the one-month-old calf, peacefully nursing his mother and in perfect health.

No broken bones, abrasions, cuts… no limp.  It seemed he was tenderly carried to his mother’s side while barn, pens, and everything around him were sheared off at ground surface and swept away.  I cannot comprehend how that young, helpless calf escaped the carnage on the hilltop and arrived beside his mother.  Perhaps God does care about cattle… “He owns the cattle on a thousand hills” (Psalm 50:10).  But it also demonstrated His love for the helpless, including me, “What a help you are to the weak.  You have saved the arm without strength” (Josh. 26:2). At this point, I would have expected most anything from God’s Divine nature—almost anything.

We drove up the hill to return home, back by the mesquite tree, and back by the site where the barn once stood.  I was emotionally spent—overwhelmed by the events of that afternoon and especially humbled by God’s apparent touch.  It was so hard to comprehend. Father, is this really You?  Are You personally reaching out to me?  Deep within, I believed He was—these events were beyond coincidence.  But in my dazed state it just didn’t seem real—could I ever be sure?

And then I saw it.  “Dad, stop the truck!”

I stepped out of the cab… it was practically dark, and I walked back to the spot where I fed the calf just a few hours earlier.  The empty Folgers coffee can, to my amazement, still sat on top of the railroad crosstie, just as I left it, except now it held two inches of water.  The entire barn blew away, just three feet from an empty can sitting five feet off the ground on an unprotected post.  I now believe that dry, empty can was me.  I was spiritually empty yet fully protected by His love from the massive storm.  But I also had responsibility. God would fill me with His presence to the limit that I would surrender, whether it be two inches or overflowing.

Tears filled my eyes as I gazed upon the miracle that God meant for me alone.  And those tears still come today, almost 50 years later, as I relive the event.  He revealed to me His invisible attributes through Creation.

It cost us a barn, but God changed my life.

*      *      *

Are you searching for truth on the topic of creation?  Have you been confused by a myriad of different, and often contradictory, teachings on the subject?  His written Word, the Bible, defines “truth” through several aspects.  Ironically, God’s creation is one aspect of “truth” (Romans 1:18-23) that is often overlooked or ignored in some creation models.  Creation theology must integrate all aspects of “truth,” and that will be our focus through the writings to come.

I requested earlier that you reflect upon your experience(s) with nature.  What was it that made you marvel, and how were you emotionally affected?  Could it perhaps have been the Presence of the Heavenly Father?  Did He display His invisible attributes to you, personally?   As God wills, through these future writings, we too will travel a wooded lane that leads to an open hilltop where God the Father reveals Himself through His Creation and His Word.

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