Big Buts of the Bible

Years ago, knowing how much I enjoy poking around dusty old Bibles and theological books, my sister Diann gave me a treasure she discovered in a used bookstore.

It is called Reflections on the Works of God in Nature, written by Christoph Christian Sturm and originally published in German in the 1770s. My English-language copy was published in 1834.

And it looks every bit of its age.

The spine is hanging on by a few determined threads. The pages are worn, dry, brittle and spotted with nearly two centuries of age. Scattered throughout are underlines and handwritten notes left by readers whose names I will never know.

I love that.

Somebody held this very book nearly two hundred years ago. Somebody stopped at a sentence that moved them and drew a line beneath it. Somebody scribbled a thought in the margin.

And now I’m holding it. There is something wonderful about that kind of connection across time. But the real treasure is what’s inside.

Sturm’s devotional reflections continually turn the reader’s attention toward creation. Look closely at the world, he believed, and you will discover reasons to wonder at its Creator.

Apparently, one of his readers agreed. A rather famous one.

Ludwig van Beethoven owned a copy of Sturm’s Reflections and treasured it, heavily annotating its pages. As his hearing deteriorated and isolation became an increasingly painful part of his life, Beethoven found deep meaning in nature and in Sturm’s reflections upon God revealed through it.

I understand the attraction. Nature has always been one of the places where I most readily slow down and become aware of God’s presence.

This Sunday, as we prepare our hearts to worship, I offer a couple verses—one Big But—and a few thoughts to consider—first from Sturm, and then from me. 

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you, or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.” –Job 12:7-10

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works my soul knows it very well.” –Psalm 139:13–14

“How many favors may I not expect from my Heavenly Father, who, from the first moment of my existence, nay, more, even before I was born, has watched so tenderly and so unceasingly for my advantage.” –Christoph Christian Sturm, Reflections on the Works of God

It’s relatively easy to stand beside an ocean, stare into a star-filled sky, watch a sunrise, or encounter some extraordinary creature and think: God does remarkable work. But Scripture asks us to turn that wonder in another direction too. Toward ourselves.

The reason for “asking” creation is to hear its testimony.

He who has ears, let him hear!

Life’s journey can feel overwhelming—like the wheels are coming off. Maybe it’s the pressures of finances, or the daily discouragement of a chronic health issue. Maybe it’s a complicated relationship or worry over someone you dearly love as they struggle. You know, those moments when you say to yourself, “there’s nothing I can do now except pray.” (Instead of a last resort, that’s actually the perfect place to start!) Maybe it’s spiritual dryness, deep questions or even hurts where your faith is concerned. Maybe God feels completely silent, and you feel like you’re forgotten, a burden, or utterly abandoned. Maybe you feel unworthy of His love. 

The truth of your existence tells a completely different story. Long before the weight of suffering took hold, before your health faltered, or your heart was broken, you were already the object of a fierce, tender, and unceasing love. You were not carelessly thrown together by chance; you were intentionally knit together by a Creator who calls His handiwork wonderful, even when you feel fractured.

God isn’t distant from your pain; He is actively in the very midst of it. He doesn’t love a future, “perfect” version of you—He watches over you with profound tenderness at this exact moment, right in the center of your struggles. His care has been a constant, quiet baseline throughout your entire life’s pilgrimage, holding you together even when you feel you are falling apart.

But ask the animals … the birds of the sky … Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? –Matt. 6:26

Speak to the earth, it will teach you … Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. –Matt. 6:28-29

When your body fails, your mind feels chaotic, or your spirit feels empty, look at the order and beauty all around you; anchor yourself in this reality: you are deeply known, intricately made, and safely held. You do not have to earn this care, nor can your deepest trials ever separate you from it.

The God who designed your inmost being is present with you, weeping with you in suffering, and looking upon you with absolute love.

Encourage yourself with this truth: “I am not abandoned; I am intentionally made, tenderly watched over, and safely held right now.”