As long as I can remember, I have worried about God. It’s like a heavy weight looming out there in the darkness as I try to fall asleep. What is he? Is he really a he? What if I find God, but it is the wrong God? And of course the biggest concern of all: is there a hell, and if so, am I going?
But perhaps these are just the concerns of a people who have built their lives inside. First there were huts, and then villages, and now vast spaces with no grass at all. God became removed from the natural world in our minds and then, in some hearts, lost any meaning at all. There is no evidence of God in fluorescent office lights or air-conditioned cars. He is not with the fundamentalists, whether they be Christian or Muslim.
God is with nature, and with me as well, when I can join. For however long or short it lasts, God is there when I lace up my shoes and run on the dirt paths just beyond town. There is unspeakable power when I ride my bike and notice the the sun and the air and the water. For me, church lies in the rivers and the mountains that my father taught me to love when I was young.
Often, we are humbled by nature. As it gives and takes life, it reminds us that human hubris and God are incompatible. Nature cannot be conquered by concrete and light. Rather, we can allow ourselves to be conquered by it. And all at once there is freedom.