The Sound of Clover

Look closely.  

Do you see them? The fingerprints.  Not those belonging to Judah, the five year old farmer who sowed the seed, those belonging to the Giver who brought the clover into being.  

Listen closely.  

When asked in earnest who taught it how it ought to behave, how, and when, it should burst forth from its seed, fight through the heavy earth above, send its roots down below, and stretch itself towards the light of life, it has its answer. This tiny sprout, though small in stature, with deafening volume bespeaks the infinite power and divine nature of the Giver.  It does not force its proclamation on any man, for one must first choose to listen in order to hear its song.  For those that do, it is among the sweetest and happiest sounds to be heard.  Indeed, the Truth rings out in a perfect symphony from this humble, yet gloriously magnificent, tiny sprout of clover.  

With hopeful anticipation, we pray the sprout will be put to good use by the taker which the small farmer intended, and perhaps this fall it may be Given a second time.  It will have been transformed, yet still sing that same perfect song heard by all those who listen, ringing forth from the heavenly venison we so long to share at our table. 

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood from His workmanship, so that men are without excuse.” – Romans 1:20

It is quite obvious that a painting does not paint itself and its very existence reveals the existence of an artist.  One does not have to watch the artist at his work, or see his face, or touch his garment to know he exists, the painting has already told you, and that is reason enough.  This is so intuitive that without much controversy it could be said, as in the verse above; anyone presented with a painting who denies the existence of an artist would be “without excuse” for doing so.  Beyond proving his existence, the painting may very well tell you many things about the artist; perhaps the degree of his talent, the preferences of his color palette, and likely, what is beautiful to him.  It is the nature of paintings to make known qualities of the artist which would otherwise remain invisible.

As with paintings, the natural world makes visible the invisible, and lays bare the existence of its Artist.  The natural world has been painted with the primary colors of God’s palette.  His workmanship, in the same way as primary colors, may be manipulated, transformed, combined, altered, and put to use by man, but never re-created by our hands.  We may be quite proficient at turning trees into houses, but we cannot turn a house back into a tree any more than we can turn orange back into red and yellow.  There is some workmanship of which only the Artist is capable.  

Jesus demonstrated the importance of beholding the natural world.  He would “…often slip away to the wilderness and pray.” (Luke 5:16), surrounding Himself with the primary colors of creation and seeking solitude from all except the Father.  By removing Himself from city, town, and crowd, He entered the artwork to get close to, and focus on, the Artist.

The artwork is all around, albeit far less prevalent in cities than wilderness (hence my aversion to cities).  It may be clearly seen, and its proclamation of the Artist clearly heard, by all who choose to listen.  So then, when asked what reason I have for believing in a God I cannot see, I must answer with another, more pressing question. When I behold the primary colors of creation or listen intently to the sound of none other than this tiny sprout of clover, what excuse have I, for not?