Every once in a while, within nature, I will come across something so breathtakingly simple and beautiful that I can only interpret it as a gift of grace from God the Father. A brilliant red maple laying on the ground, burning like a flame among the other faded and fallen leaves. A small ripple in a rocky stream, catching and flinging the sunlight every which way. A solitary mockingbird joyfully singing in anticipation of the dawn in the darkness outside my window. All of these things are little love notes from God the Father who, since the creation of the world, has generously splashed evidence of His "invisible qualities-- His eternal power and divine nature" across the world He has made (Romans 1:20). I can't, in good conscience, call myself a conservationalist of any sort, but I do long for other people to see and experience the majesty, power, and loving care of the Creator evident in creation. I want the love notes to remain uncluttered with crushed beer cans and candy bar wrappers. I want there to be someplace, somewhere, where I can still hear the "rivers clap their hands and the mountains sing together for joy to the Lord" (Psalm 98:8) without the clatter of car engines.
I think Horace M. Albright, the first director of the National Park Service, would agree-- here's a snippet of his eloquent farewell letter that resonates with me:
"Oppose with all your strength and power all proposals to penetrate your wilderness regions with motorways and other symbols of modern mechanization. Keep large sections of primitive country free from the influence of destructive civilization. Keep these bits of primitive America for those who seek peace and rest in the silent places; keep them for the hardy climbers of the crags and peaks; keep them for the horseman and the pack train; keep them for the scientist and the student of nature; keep them for all who would use their minds and hearts to know what God has created. Remember, once opened, they can never be wholly restored to primeval charm and grandeur."
