I have this big, inborn love for camping in me. Something about "roughing it" attracts me so much that I intentionally contradict my natural needs. Discomfort is sometimes welcome, I stage it myself. Being wet, cold, sleepless and slightly hungry is supreme. To just elaborate a little more on this whole camping thing, I have a hard time believing that anything can be considered camping that includes a camper (such a misnomer), running water, beds, air conditioning, and anything electronic. Shelter in a tent is acceptable, but much better is the wide open sky as your ceiling.
Perhaps what is so appealing about camping, in part, is its raw contact with nature. In "Total Truth" by Nancy Pearcey, she writes that God communicates with us in at least three ways, "His Word (the Bible), through history, and through Creation." To the last, I can testify. Some of my closest moments with God are spent in the middle of nothing but his own. The chimeric thoughts that haunt me elsewhere cannot be found. I can get up close, or zoom out, and both viewpoints "declare the glory of God." Running water, and stars, and tall grass, and majestic trees, and fire, and birds, and crickets, and creatures; they make you realize who you really are, and who breathed life into you. We crave these things. They bring us close to God and His joy. They "sentence us shivers." Much unlike the man-made things we surround us with. These are much more common, much more plastic.
Remniscent of a peculiar anecdote that happened to me once. Sitting at home on Facebook, I was reminded by a status or something that all I had to do was look around to see the glory of God's Creation. This is what I did, and I saw a computer, water contained in a bottle, furniture, a television set, and a bottle of Pledge window cleaner. In a fit of frustration I grabbed the Pledge bottle by the neck and yelled at it, "You are not beautiful!!" (You did know I was crazy?) But so true it was, and too I could rush to the window and see nothing but a cloned neighbourhood and roads and grass that was laid out like carpet. I felt very stifled in that moment. After you are surrounded by material as that, and you realize it, all you have left of sanity is a human, God's greatest creation.
And so much better than the fineries of home, with the cozy bed and heat and comfy clothes, is the soaked, "mugged array," of the campest's bed. That choking smell of smoke is lovely. Eating of a stick you yanked from a tree is lovely. Telling long stories, often of the macabre, is lovely. Speculating the morrow's venture, of swimming (in a creek or a river, not a pool) or canoeing is lovely.
Camping is nice.
Perhaps what is so appealing about camping, in part, is its raw contact with nature. In "Total Truth" by Nancy Pearcey, she writes that God communicates with us in at least three ways, "His Word (the Bible), through history, and through Creation." To the last, I can testify. Some of my closest moments with God are spent in the middle of nothing but his own. The chimeric thoughts that haunt me elsewhere cannot be found. I can get up close, or zoom out, and both viewpoints "declare the glory of God." Running water, and stars, and tall grass, and majestic trees, and fire, and birds, and crickets, and creatures; they make you realize who you really are, and who breathed life into you. We crave these things. They bring us close to God and His joy. They "sentence us shivers." Much unlike the man-made things we surround us with. These are much more common, much more plastic.
Remniscent of a peculiar anecdote that happened to me once. Sitting at home on Facebook, I was reminded by a status or something that all I had to do was look around to see the glory of God's Creation. This is what I did, and I saw a computer, water contained in a bottle, furniture, a television set, and a bottle of Pledge window cleaner. In a fit of frustration I grabbed the Pledge bottle by the neck and yelled at it, "You are not beautiful!!" (You did know I was crazy?) But so true it was, and too I could rush to the window and see nothing but a cloned neighbourhood and roads and grass that was laid out like carpet. I felt very stifled in that moment. After you are surrounded by material as that, and you realize it, all you have left of sanity is a human, God's greatest creation.
And so much better than the fineries of home, with the cozy bed and heat and comfy clothes, is the soaked, "mugged array," of the campest's bed. That choking smell of smoke is lovely. Eating of a stick you yanked from a tree is lovely. Telling long stories, often of the macabre, is lovely. Speculating the morrow's venture, of swimming (in a creek or a river, not a pool) or canoeing is lovely.
Camping is nice.
You said it Brother Galilee :) "We crave these things..." Oh, how true that statement is. I love this picture you have written out with your words. I love the idea. (I know you are crazy. I also know you are an actor...never in a million...) Beautiful is God's creation. You will have adventure. This is only the beginning. Dream Big!
ReplyDeleteI can relate to with you on this. I prefer to be outside sitting around a fire, with the smoke blowing in my face. We get so comfortable with technology these days, that we tend to forget about God's wonderful creations. I do think I shall go camping this Friday. No tent either, I'm going to build my own shelter with an open roof.
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