Think of the last time you read the Creation story in Genesis. Did it blow your mind and leave you panting for a glimpse of this world? Did you yearn to put your hands in the dirt and feel what God put there? Did you find yourself wanting to lie down in a garden so you could smell God?
God, we find ourselves unimpressed with the way you describe the furnishings of your world: vegetation, birds, wild animals—God show us the platypus! Show us the redwoods and the panther and the Pacific Ocean. Show us the gladiolus; lift it to our noses. The hawk, God, show us the hawk; we will study it and praise you. The colors must have been vibrant, and the textures! How did the world feel leaving your fingertips? What tasks did you delegate to Jesus? Did the Spirit scatter seeds and feed the animals? Tell us, God, impress us! Show us the hawk.
There is something wrong with our imagination.
There is something wrong with our imagination. God is not picking out the world from a catalogue—trees are not products; chickens are not products; nitrogen is not a product. Rather, God imagined the earth, and it was so, and it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, every day.
God says: “Go outside, and within you I will cultivate astonishment. I only ask that you learn to see.”