Creation Points Beyond Itself

What nature can teach us about purpose, worth, and the One who created it all

I have spent much of my life learning how to work with the things that grow.

Plants. Food. Gardens. People.

The more I learn, the more I find myself asking a question that goes beyond horticulture:

What if Creation is constantly telling us something about the One who created it...and about ourselves?

We marvel at a sunrise.

We photograph flowers.

We listen to birds.

We stand beneath enormous trees and feel very small.

We watch a seed disappear into the soil and somehow become something entirely different.

We recognize beauty.

We recognize order.

We recognize complexity.

We recognize life.

And yet, sometimes I think we become so captivated by what was made that we miss the intentionality of the One who made it.

For me, that changes everything.

I believe Creation points beyond itself.

The garden is beautiful, but the garden did not create itself.

The seed contains an astonishing capacity for life, but the seed is not the author of life.

The seasons change. Plants emerge, grow, flower, produce, die back, and return. Everywhere we look, there are relationships, patterns, rhythms, and systems that sustain life.

And Creation itself seems to kneel in submission to its Creator.

That isn't simply a theological idea to me.

It shapes the way I see people.

Because if Creation was made intentionally, then perhaps we should pause before assuming that we were not.

If the natural world has value, perhaps we should reconsider how easily we assign value to one another.

If we believe that the Creator was intentional about the things He made, perhaps we should begin to wonder about the intentionality behind our own existence.

You are not an accident.

And neither is anyone else.

We often talk about self-esteem, self-worth, resilience, purpose, and belonging as though they are things we have to manufacture inside ourselves.

But what if worth comes before accomplishment?

What if value isn't something we earn by being productive, successful, attractive, educated, wealthy, useful, or impressive?

What if our value is inherent because we were created?

Scripture speaks directly to this truth:

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”— Psalm 139:14 (NIV)

Fearfully and wonderfully made.

I love that this verse doesn't say we become valuable after we accomplish something.

It doesn't say we become wonderful after we prove ourselves.

It says we are made...intentionally, wonderfully, and with reverence.

And notice the connection David makes: “Your works are wonderful.”

He recognizes his own worth by recognizing the intentionality of the One who made him.

That is one of the things I find so beautiful about the natural world.

A flower doesn't have to prove that it deserves to bloom.

A tree doesn't have to earn the right to grow.

A bird doesn't have to justify its existence before it sings.

Creation simply does what it was created to do.

And perhaps there is a lesson there for us.

We were created, too.

And perhaps we have spent far too much time trying to prove the value of something God already called wonderful.

We live in a world that constantly asks us to prove ourselves.

Produce more.

Earn more.

Buy more.

Achieve more.

Become more.

Sometimes we become so consumed with acquiring that we forget how to receive.

We forget that there was already enough.

We forget that the earth was given to sustain life.

We forget that food was meant to nourish.

We forget that our bodies need rest.

We forget that community matters.

We forget that the people around us are not competitors for a limited supply of worth.

And when we forget our own value, we can begin to treat other people as though their value is negotiable, too.

That is where something beautiful can become something destructive.

We can worship what was created while forgetting the Creator.

We can pursue wealth while sacrificing people.

We can consume the earth without considering what we leave behind.

We can measure a person's worth by what they produce.

We can allow entire communities to experience environmental burdens and food insecurity while others have extraordinary access to healthy environments and resources.

We can become so focused on having more that we fail to recognize that enough was already present.

This is why I believe environmental literacy is about much more than knowing which plants grow in Chicago or understanding how recycling works.

Environmental literacy asks us to understand our relationship with the systems that sustain us.

Where does our water come from?

Where does our food come from?

Who has access to healthy food?

Who has access to green space?

Who lives near pollution?

Who has safe places to play?

Who gets to experience nature?

Who is asked to bear the environmental costs of everyone else's consumption?

These are environmental questions.

But they are also questions about human worth, justice, stewardship, and responsibility.

When we learn to see Creation as something valuable, we begin to ask what it means to care for it.

And when we understand that people are part of Creation, we have to ask what it means to care for them.

That is where my work with horticulture, food, wellness, and environmental education comes together.

The garden isn't just a place where we grow plants.

It can become a place where we reconsider how we live.

It can teach us that everything is connected.

The soil affects the plant.

The plant affects the food.

The food affects the body.

The body affects the mind.

The environment affects the person.

The person affects the community.

And the choices we make affect the environment that comes after us.

Nothing is isolated.

That may be one of the most important lessons Creation has to offer.

We belong to one another.

And we belong to something larger than ourselves.

For me, that ultimately points back to God.

I believe we were created intentionally and that we bear the imprint of the One who created us.

That means the person sitting beside you has value.

The child who hasn't yet figured out who they are has value.

The older adult whose contributions are sometimes overlooked has value.

The person struggling with addiction has value.

The person returning home after incarceration has value.

The person living with a disability has value.

The person who has failed has value.

You have value.

Not because of what you have accomplished.

Not because of what you can give me.

Not because of what society says you are worth.

Because you are here.

Because you were created.

And because the Creator is intentional.

I think sometimes the garden gives us enough quiet to remember that.

There is no rush in a seed.

There is no shame in a season of dormancy.

There is no competition between a sunflower and a tomato.

There is no need for the oak to become the maple.

Each thing has its place.

Each thing has its purpose.

Each thing contributes something.

And perhaps we can learn to look at ourselves and one another with that same kind of reverence.

Maybe wellness isn't only about extending our lives.

Maybe it is also about learning to live our lives with greater awareness of their value.

To care for our bodies.

To nourish ourselves.

To cultivate healthy relationships.

To steward the earth.

To make room for rest.

To discover purpose.

To create beauty.

To serve others.

To recognize that our lives matter.

And to help other people remember that theirs do, too.

This is part of what I hope Know Good & Well can offer.

Not simply programs.

Not simply gardens.

Not simply culinary experiences, art, environmental education, or therapeutic horticulture.

But opportunities to encounter something that has been present all along.

Goodness.

The goodness of the land.

The goodness of relationship.

The goodness of nourishment.

The goodness of beauty.

The goodness of Creation.

And, ultimately, the goodness of the Creator.

I don't believe we have to force people to see what I see.

I don't believe every person has to use my language.

I simply believe that when we slow down long enough to pay attention, Creation has a way of asking us questions.

Who are you?

What are you here for?

What do you value?

What are you cultivating?

What are you leaving behind?

And perhaps the most important question of all:

What if you are more precious than you have been led to believe?

Maybe the garden doesn't have to answer that question for us.

Maybe it simply gives us enough room to remember.

Know Good & Well

The good of the land is operative, energetic, and activated for the good of the people. We just need to learn to do well.