Look at the Leaves

The heavens declare the glory of God, the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their measuring line goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. (Psalm 19:1–4)

There is this tree in my neighbor’s front yard I wish you could see. I would snap a photo with my phone and include it here, but a photo wouldn’t do it justice. The thing is blazing orange on top, and still green underneath. We don’t often think of what green looks like while it’s turning orange, but it’s the story of this tree right now, and it’s radiant. Green to orange to four more shades of orange, at least — I just counted — and then a red to burgundy in some spots. 

I know I said this about sunshine in the spring[Fog on the road], but the same goes for the colors of autumn … God puts it there for our thankfulness.

It’s there to say something about him, first and foremost. The leaves remind us that Yahweh created them, and that he created them like he did because he is good. And when I see the leaves — when I get to see them in person, live, from a distance or in my hand — they are there to fill my heart with delight for a God who would do such a thing. 

We wake up each day with free admission to a world of wonder — an interactive expo of glory we can see and hear and smell and taste and touch. Creation is there, right here around us, to tell us about God. And according to Psalm 19, that is always the message going forth — and somebody somewhere gets it. 

“Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge” — that means in all 24 hours of the day there is a broadcast of glory, and somebody, somewhere, is dialed in, listening, giving thanks. You might walk outside and shun the sun. Maybe the beams land on your face but ping off your heart. That’s your problem, though. Somewhere, on somebody’s face, that sunshine is directing a symphony of joy. Somebody, somewhere, is always giving thanks for God’s glory proclaimed in the leaves, and I reckon it might as well be me every chance I get. You too?

Go look at the leaves, church, and be that redeemed heart that’s paying attention.

Lean into that breeze. Breathe in that autumn air.

Know that others will see and feel what you see and feel, and one of you, eventually, is going to look upwards in gratitude.