Have you ever stood in front of nature and been completely in awe of the awesomeness of God? For me, I was a teenager standing on the Maid of the Mist, a little boat that launches out of the New York side of Niagara Falls and sails into the horseshoe at the bottom of the falls. Standing at the bottom of this huge waterfall, water hurdling over the edge and crashing with such force into the river below that it ricochets into a hazy mist that drenches everything.

It’s a perspective we all understand, as it’s a basic experience we’ve all had to live through if we’ve been born and grown up. No matter who you are or where you are in your Christian walk, the sentiment is easy to understand. God formed you in your mother’s womb. When no one else knew you, not even your parents, God knew you. There is nothing about you that could be hidden from the Lord. All through the standard nine months your mother was pregnant with you, she wondered: what color would her baby’s eyes be? Their hair? Would it be a boy or a girl? What would your personality be? What would you grow up to do?

We’ve been traveling through the opening verses of the first chapter of John, going section by section to break down this beautifully complex introduction to the Gospel. The above verses continue to use this analogy of Jesus being the Light coming into the world, illuminating the Truth to those that accept it. Last week, we went into the section of verses that spoke about John the Baptist, and how his ministry bore witness to the light of who Jesus was going to be. John, himself, was not the light but he was a witness to the coming Light.

There have been three separate times where I’ve witnessed nature and felt simultaneously so small and powerless against the greatness of God’s creation, and comforted with the fact that the same Mastermind of this same landscape thought that I was important enough to include in His design. The first was at the foot of the colossal horseshoe at the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. The second was stepping out of the airport in Cape Town to see the three mountain peaks that makeup that city’s skyline: Devil’s Peak, Table Mountain, and Lion’s Head. The third was this weekend, from the Fred W. Symmes Chapel in Camp Greenville, South Carolina.

A few years ago, my childhood pastor gave a sermon on the controversial Old Testament vs. New Testament debate. You know, the one where one side of the fence thinks we can just throw away the Old Testament and only study the New Testament, because it’s the new covenant that replaces the old. The other side of the fence thinks that the inclusion of the New Testament in the Bible is a contradiction to God’s original word. One side believes that God is lawful judgement, and to focus too much on His love is to water down His sovereign word. The other believes that God is love, and to dwell too much in the Old Testament covenant is a decision to not see God in the fullness of His character.

When it comes to the opening chapters of the Bible, Eve always gets a bad wrap. And no, I’m not looking to play a blame game today over who caused the fall of man, but this week, I re-read this story and a lot of things jumped out at me that I’d like to take some time to look at. I don’t necessarily want to call this whole thing a “series,” but I might possibly take more than one week to unpack it.

Hey, Pops, Today, I lay no petitions, no requests, and no pleas at your feet. For just a moment, I only want to sit in awe of you. Constantly, you beckon me to come close to your heart; you give me permission to intimately know you, to dive deeper into who you are. And constantly, I am distracted by the desires of my own heart. How many times have I passed up the opportunity to just be with you by filling up the time and space with my selfishness and my “needs?” How many times have I missed the opportunity to get to know more of you, because I wanted you to hear more of me?