I don’t know why I feel compelled to make the distinction, but I’m convinced that this is more than just nature being a revelation of its creator, as it couldn’t help but be.
Heaps of people find it easiest to connect with God via nature (which leads to the side-issue of why all church services are indoors, with God-seekers placed neatly and conveniently in parallel rows, but as I say, that’s a side-question), but I think that what’s referred to in Isaiah 55: 12 is a different thing. A slightly different thing, or a different thing altogether? Dunno
It’s as if there’s some response from nature to the being that created it and holds it all together, nanosecond by nanosecond; as if from insensate things there’s some sort of creator-awareness in the form of a silent song. At least, silent to our physical ears.
I love the story told by a few of the Bloomsburys of Lytton Strachey bursting into the Cambridge rooms of Thoby Stephens, crying out “Do you hear the music of the spheres?”, and collapsing in a faint. I love it’s undergrad theatricality and OTT aestheticism, as well as the background revelation it points to.
Christianity and Bloomsbury bohemianism aren’t often mentioned in the same sentence, but both, right now, point me towards the inspired words of the first verse of a hymn of 1901, saying
This is my Father’s world and to my listening ears, all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.’
Sounds to me like old Maltbie Babcock (the author of the hymn) was hearing more than just nature, by its very nature, revealing the nature of God. He was hearing it’s reply – it’s very praise.
I’m on a mission. A mission to fine-tune whatever receptors I can adopt, to hear the mountains and hills burst into song, and the trees of the fields clap their hands.
The oak – 12:00 pm today