By Mike Ivaska
One of the things I really appreciate about life on Vashon is how quickly we can immerse ourselves in nature here. Within ten minutes of walking or driving, depending on where you live, a trailhead awaits. You don’t even have to have anything resembling survival skills – which, for me, is particularly good news. Just don’t fall down and you’ll be fine.
Predatory animals are rare on Vashon. For most of my life here, the most ferocious wild beast was a raccoon. Sometimes, we’d get a confused bear who swam over from the Peninsula, but this tended to create more fascination than fear. More recently, we’ve had a cougar or two. And now coyotes sometimes threaten our pets. But nature on Vashon is still pretty innocuous. Our Island Facebook groups are far more vicious than most anything you’d run across in the woods.
As an introvert, when I’m looking for peace – or when I’m looking for God – I tend to go outside. My daily walk does more for my soul than it does for my body, and the first words that tend to pop into my head at that first deep breath of fresh air are, “Thank you, God.”
This isn’t because I’m particularly pious, mind you. I’m a minister, yes. But a generally disappointing one for those who are looking for experts in piety. People who know me usually forget I’m a pastor after a while. Sometimes I forget, too. I’m not sure this is good, exactly. But, as they say, it is what it is.
No, the words pop into my head from somewhere subliminal. “This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: ‘In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength …’” (Isaiah 30:15, NIV, emphasis added). There is healing in quiet. And strength. Refreshment. Restoration. What I’m often looking for when I pray, I find when I go for a walk.
But this raises the question: Am I really closer to God in a forest than I am sitting in a cafe? Am I experiencing God less when I’m paying my bills than when I am hearing the waves? That’s actually a very limited picture of God, if you think about it. A God who can be chased away by electric lights and small talk is more of a god than a God.
No, as a believer in Jesus I am convinced God is everywhere. He even shows up in funny places like church.
A retired theology professor once wrote of a student he had. This student was young and newly married. He was training for the ministry and was taking a class on “creation spirituality” from the professor. The class had spent the previous week discussing the phrase “image of God” out of Genesis. Excited and inspired by the discussions, this student began telling his wife on his way out the door, “I am going out to spend time in creation.”
His wife knew he’d been working hard and so simply said, “Have a good time.” But, day after day, the student would tell his wife, “I am going out to spend time in creation.” After a while, his wife became worried.
“Shouldn’t you be going back to class at some point? School is expensive, and you don’t want to jeopardize your grade.”
“I’ve been going to class every day,” the student replied.
“What do you mean?” his wife asked, “I thought you’ve been going out to spend time in creation.”
“I have been. Every day. On the bus. At the coffee shop. At the school. There are people everywhere. And each one of them is created by God.”
It’s a cute story, of course. And true, as far as I know. But this story does raise a point. When we think of creation and being close to God, we tend to think of trees and not people, of quiet solitude rather than casual conversation. Nature and God are one thing. People and the city bus are another. But God is everywhere. Even among people. Even in funny places like church.
Obviously, part of the reason we feel closer to God in nature than in town is because God made nature but people made the town. Nature is free. Town feels rule-bound and constrained. Everything in the forest sort of works together, symbiotically. Town can have the feel of competition and imposed order (or attempts thereat, at least). Again, sadly, kind of like church (sometimes).
But to say that God isn’t at work among people is a very limited picture of God. To say that God, who made people, doesn’t think people-in-community is worth all the risk, noise, and trouble, is a very limited picture of God.
Nature, in most places of the world, is both dangerous and beautiful. On Vashon, it’s mostly just beautiful. People, in all places, are both terrible and lovely. Simul justus et peccator, Martin Luther once wrote. Righteous and sinful all at once. God is at work in the black bear and the pine cone. But God is at work in humanity, too.
