A Celtic View of Creation

I was going to post on the Celtic view of creation -- Mary and I have been very inspired by the tenets of Celtic spirituality as of late, but then I remembered that Mary posted on a Celtic view of creation in her blog about two years ago.  So, I decided to let her describe to you some of the basic tenets of creation according to the Celts.  Please understand that Mary is a wonderful writer, much much better than I could ever hope to be...which is why I am so happy that she has allowed me to "steal" some of her material for my latest post.  


While Mary and I don't ascribe to every facet of Celtic spirituality, we are very attracted to their focus on hope, love, the beauty of the earth and their wonderful fixed prayers (see Philip Newell)  In addition, we agree with their position against original sin.  Below, Mary will be discussing one of their ideas on creation.  Please please take the time to read the entire post -- it is my hope that Mary's words might guide you into an entire new way of understanding what the Celts call the "rhythm of life as a part of all creation."


It's been raining for 3 days now, almost without ceasing, and I am growing accustomed to waking and sleeping to the sound of rain falling on our roof. If I want, I can spiritualize this rainfall. It seems perfectly predictable and comforting that after such a tiresome summer that this rain would come in abundance. That it would more than generously bring relief, even when it almost seemed too late.

And, on such a night as this, listening to the rain, it puts me in the mood to reflect on some of my readings (J. Phillip Newell's 'Christ of the Celts' and 'The Book of Creation'). If you recall, I originally wrote this post as a warm-up: Creation: Part A. Turns out I am still pondering the same things I did those weeks ago.

The Celtic view of creation has stretched me in ways that I didn't anticipate. Mainly, it has challenged me to be a thoughtful observer of nature and it has caused me to ponder what the gift of creation implies about God's generosity in regards to grace. I am writing again about the first, and will write about the latter in my next post.

Drawing from the Genesis story, Celts conclude that "not only is creation viewed as good, as coming out of the goodness of God, but it is viewed as well as theophany or a disclosing of the heart of God's being." As such, creation is like another form of scripture. "The cosmos is like a living sacred text that we can learn to read and interpret. We are invited to listen to the life of creation as an on-going, living utterance of God." In the West, we have largely been educated out of listening to nature. And, whether we could name it or not, our mechanistic world-view and the doctrine of creation ex nihilo (creation out of nothing) has shaped our society with lamentable ramifications for the earth's life and resources.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have always had a high view of creation. When we lived at the ranch, my regular form of exercise was to walk down to the river. Once there, I would sit on the bank and rest for several minutes before heading home. Those walks were much more spiritually refreshing than physically beneficial. I remember coming across a group of deer once and being able to watch as a fawn literally frolicked in the pasture - it was like watching a young child laughing and chasing an older sibling. I could have watched as long as I wanted and never tired of it.  It was like watching the true expression of joy and freedom. When I would come to the break in my walk, I would sit by the river.  As I would listen to its sounds and gaze at its stillness, a deep, filling sense of peace would often wash over me. I would let myself soak in that peace until every corner of my being was satisfied.

When I first read 'Christ of the Celts' is was as if the knowledge of creation that I'd always had was finally articulated. It not only put words to my experiences, but infused it with an even richer truth. "It is not as if creation somehow exists independently of God and that God only periodically chooses to express himself through it. That would be to say that God is like an artist who has made a violin that he only occasionally plays. The rising of the sun each morning is the expression of God, as is the beauty of the moon at night." The challenge comes with the agreement. If I agree with this view, then I must be open to observing my surroundings with a different lense.

These past few days, listening to the rain, watching it create a million little pools around the front yard, listening to Grant giggle as raindrops hit and bounce off his nose and face - I think about this Celtic view of creation. I think about the past couple of weeks and Psalm 42:1-2
"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God." And I think about God's uncanny faithfulness to show up when we need Him the most and to fill us up to overflowing. And it doesn't seem like I'm overspiritualizing at all.

Ordinary Time -- A Father's Thoughts

Like most people, my day is usually packed with "to dos" from early morning until late at night. Yesterday was no exception -- I had a full day to say the least. I was rushing from task to task with no time to spare and not a moment to lose -- and Friday is supposed to be my day off! Nonetheless at 4:30, I flew into Grant's school and rushed in to pick him up (most parents of young children know the day really begins when the kids come home). Before I went to get him on the playground I stopped at his "cubbyhole" to pick up his lunch and his daily art (which usually consists of dinosaur colorings or pirate paraphernalia), I was throwing things into his bag when I picked up a yellow sheet of paper with his hand prints on it. I noticed it because it was for "Daddy."

I don't know why "handprints" of our kids tug at our heartstrings, but as a parent, it always gets me. So I stopped and read the paragraph above the hands...it said, "I miss you when we are not together. I am growing up so fast. See how big I have gotten since you saw me last? As I grow I will change a lot, The years will fly right by. You will wonder how I grew up so quick...when and where and why. So look upon this handprint and know this is what I looked like when I was so so small."

I read that semi profound common poem and I was overcome with emotion. I thought about my day..how I had rushed around and rushed into Grant's school and how I would rush home and rush to dinner and rush to bed...I thought about how this was an ordinary day...how we have had thousands of these days and we will have a thousand more. And I realized that most of life is lived in "ordinary time."

Did you know that there is a stretch of days in the early church calendar that was developed in the fourth century called "Ordinary Time." The church year begins with Advent, then moves to Christmas, the twelve days of Christmas, Epiphany, Ash Wednesday, Holy Week, Maunday Thursday, Good Friday, Easter, Pentecost (early summer), and ends with Ordinary Time (which just so happens to be the biggest chunk of the year).

I realized today that most of life is lived in "ordinary time." Charles Poole says that, "Life is punctuated by a few special moments and grandiose events -- a festival here, an anniversary there, a birthday here...a wedding there, but most of life is lived in ordinary time."

One of the signs of a believer who is attempting to follow Christ on a serious spiritual journey of open-eyed, sensitive, loving faith is when he/she begins to see more frequently and clearly the sacred presence of God in the most ordinary moments of life. Celtics understood that, they realized (far earlier than most of Christendom) that the gap between the sacred and the ordinary is mostly imaginary...and it is a gap not of God's making but of ours.

I think that was one of the elements Thorton Wilder was trying to portray in his famous three act play, Our Town. I remember the play well -- we performed it my senior year in high school. Emily, the main character had died at the age of 26 and she is allowed to chose one day of her life to relive. She chooses her twelfth birthday. As Emily watches her day unfold she sees everyone scurry about, consumed with this issue or that matter and she says from her new perspective of death, "I never realized before how in the dark live people are, from morning until night, that is all they are - troubled." Finally she says, "I can't look at everything hard enough...I didn't realize...so much that I never noticed...Do any living humans realize life while they live it, minute by minute?"

All of these thoughts came rushing through my weary mind as I was in the middle of my "ordinary day" doing the "ordinary task" of picking up my son. And I realized that I had slipped into the sin of thinking that I was going through an ordinary day in an ordinary season of my ordinary life. And suddenly, like Moses and the burning bush, my mindset changed and, in the middle of the ordinary school hallway, I began to see the divine and sacred in everything...especially the yellow piece of paper that had my son's handprints on it...in that moment, that paper became a sacred divinely inspired document. I rushed out on the playground (like I have done a thousand times before) and hugged my son (like I had done a million times before), but this was no ordinary hug...not today.

As believers our challenge, our calling is to find the sacred in every day during every "season of our life." To look harder and see better...if we do that then the ordinary will quickly become holy and extraordinary.

Thin Places

Tucked away three miles off of Wortham Bend road in Bosque County Texas is a small “tank” surrounded by an open field of grass that backs up to a boarder of cedar and oak trees. It is, in my estimation, one of the most gorgeous square acres in Texas. Right by the Tank there is a big oak tree whose branches shoot out over the water shading the birds and squirrels as they gingerly nestle up to the water’s bank and drink.

I first found this little slice of heaven when I was ridding my horse through the area. Mary and I had just gotten married and moved to her grandparents ranch and I was exploring a little. Mary always talked about this spot…about how much she loved it. …if memory serves, she had showed it to me once or twice before… But I didn’t really experience it until I was wondering through the pasture riding Gus (my horse). I just happened upon it in the Spring time….I came through the path out of the trees and there it was….this acre from heaven….covered in bluebonnets and Indian paint brush flowers. Gus and I stopped…and we both stared at the startling scenery for a moment….it was like we were about to pass some invisible barrier….like we were about to enter some other place….that was in this world but not of this world.

Thin places….that is what the Irish would call that square acre. They believed that there are places in this world where the veil between this world and the next is so sheer…so thin… that it is easy to step through. Old Cowboys picked up on that idea and changed the description to “a little piece of heaven.” But I like the Irish term – thin places.

For some it is a noisy roof top, for others a small creek…for others it is a front porch…but make no mistake about it, thin places….little slices of heaven dot the landscape world over.

For Jesus, the thin place was mountains. He loved mountains. Scripture tells us that often Jesus would sneak away from his disciples and the crowds….and he would wonder up into the mountains alone to pray and be with God. For Jesus, the air up there reminded him of home. Funny isn’t it….he snuck away into the mountains during his ministry….he died on a mountain….and he ascended into heaven on a mountain. He was in “a thin place” when he did those things. I suppose he wanted to feel close to his father, he wanted to remember his heavenly home.

Remember what Emily Browning wrote, “Earth is crammed with Heaven, and every bush ablaze with the fire of God….but only those who see, take off their shoes….the rest just stand around and pick blackberries.”

I love that quote (and so would the Irish) -- The whole earth is one big piece of heaven! “Thin places” are everywhere….Where is your "thin place?" And, my goodness, why don't you go there more often?!

An Introduction

I am beginning the blog with a bit of trepidation.  I have fought the "blog revolution" for a number of years believing that nobody would want to read my thoughts.  However, over the years, many church members and friends have urged me to begin a blog with the purpose of allowing others to journey with me through the Christian faith. 


To that end, this blog will consist of book reviews, thoughts on theology, church, the ministry, life and culture. It is my prayer that you will join me as we try our best to follow Christ on the journey of life, and as we search for the divine wherever we go. 

There is a Celtic Prayer (written by Phillip Newell) that I think would be appropriate as we begin our journey together:

"You are above us, O God.
you are within.
You are in all things
yet contained by no thing.
Teach us to seek you in all that has life
that we may see you as the Light of life.
Teach us to search for you in our own depths
that we may find you in every living soul."