A while ago, I was paging through the books at a Christian bookstore when I came across one called 101 Reasons You Can Believe: Why the Christian Faith Makes Sense. The author, Ralph O. Muncaster, presents an assortment of things that he believes point to the truth of Christianity. Some were predictable (e.g. messianic prophecies fulfilled in Christ) and some are quite creative (e.g. Beethoven).
The first one in particular caught my eye:
The Rose
Emily sat down beside the brook and marveled at the harmony and serenity of her surroundings. Water bubbled and swirled around the rocks in a pattern whose beauty was far beyond that of any human art. Every shade of green appeared in the foliage of the banks of the stream and the fields beyond. Overhead the sun shone brightly, and the spring afternoon was scented with daffodils. Butterflies were everywhere. Bees buzzed.
She looked at her feet and a splash of red caught her eye. Nestled among some pure white daffodils was a rose. How odd, she thought. A single rose in all those daffodils. She reached down and picked it, fascinated by its color, its shape, its form. The vivid red petals framed the bright yellow pistils tucked at the core of the flower. Drops of water beaded on the leaves. How intricate and precise was the detail of the tiny parts of the inside of the rose[...].
Who would create such a thing? she wondered. Why? For what purpose? Could this be evidence of a loving Creator richly rewarding His creation with pleasure?
(photo © E.M.P.)
A bit too much straining for effect, perhaps (where on earth is Thomas Traherne when we need him?). But certainly the aesthetic appeal of nature is something I think apologists, and Christians in general, could make a great deal more of. The pleasure we can find in seeing the beauty of the world around us is a lot more than can be adequately explained in materialistic terms. Granted the plant needs its flowers to survive, but the pleasure we get from seeing them is a lot more than is necessary for survival.
However, for all his good intentions, I’ve got a suspicion that Mr. Muncaster doesn’t actually spend much time in gardens. I have done, mainly because my dad is an avid gardener, but it’s really its own order of pleasure. When you think about it, gardens are very spiritual places: according to the Bible, Mankind was created in a garden, corrupted in a garden, redeemed because of what transpired in a garden, and, if all goes well, will spend eternity in a garden.
If Emily had more closely observed the beauty of her garden, the story might have gone like this:
She looked at her feet and a splash of red caught her eye. Nestled among some pure white daffodils was a rose. How odd, she thought. Pure white daffodils. That’s one you don’t see every day; most daffodils are yellow or gold. Somebody’s been making some very clever hybrids. And what’s this? A single rose in all those daffodils? Now how did that get there? Roses usually grow on bushes with dozens of blooms.
She reached down to pick it, and let out a scream. “Stupid thorns!” she yelled, nursing her wounded fingers. “How could I forget that those grow on rosebushes?”
Then she realized that the daffodils, which grow from bulbs, indicated that somebody had planted this as a garden, and that it’s not good manners to pick somebody else’s flowers without asking first. Good thing those thorns were there after all, she thought in italics, or I might have gotten in trouble. She leaned over instead to get a closer look. How intricate and precise was the detail of the tiny parts of the inside of the rose….
The rest would pretty much stand as written, though I’d add that the thorns on the rose show that great beauty can miraculously come out of something that causes suffering.
And then I’d add Reason to Believe number 102:
The Sense of Humor
A gardener read through a book and chucked at the writer’s innocently ignorant mistakes. Then he stopped and thought: If the world is really meaningless like some people say, why do we find it so amusing when people get their facts wrong? And if the universe is really absurd, why do we recognize absurdity, and even find it hilarious? And why on earth am I thinking in italics?
"Is Not God’s Word as Good as Mine?": R. A. Torrey on Salvation and Assurance
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