Three Ways Nature Novels Speak to our Hearts (and recommending a few favorites)
In the beginning, our Creator revealed
himself through what he had made. “The heavens declare the glory of God,” the
Psalmist writes. “The skies proclaim the work of his hands.” And from Job: “Ask the animals, and they will instruct you; ask the
birds of the air, and they will tell you. Or speak to the earth,
and it will teach you; let the fish of the sea inform you. Which
of all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this?
The life of every living thing is in His hand, as well as the breath of all
mankind.”
Ah. Nature: a source of balm and instruction from our Maker—if we pay attention. Fortunately, nature
novels can speak to our hearts about all that. Here are three ways they do:
1.
Nature novels awaken us to awe.
Vegetation, wildlife, waters, skies, and the land itself . . . all
model holy truths written into creation’s design. As characters in nature
stories interact with that created world, those truths can enter readers’ depths
and smite us with wonder.
In my new novel What the River Keeps, biologist Hildy
Nybo hikes deep into Washington’s rugged Olympic Mountains, then swims the Elwha
River to count fish. As she does, readers accompany her into a glorious, seldom-viewed
paradise. Seen through Hildy’s eyes, that wonderland can invoke ecstatic wonder—and
a more expansive awe over nature’s blueprint—and for its Designer.
2.
Nature novels illustrate God’s healing and care.
Wounded tree limbs seal themselves. Amputated crab legs regrow.
Naturally occurring bacteria consume spilled oil. In countless ways, nature
heals damages done by the world’s ravages.
After two antiquated dams are demolished in What the River Keeps, Pacific salmon return to repopulate the freed
Elwha River. The healing ecosystem parallels Hildy’s emotional and spiritual restoration
after a lifetime of confusion, and it echoes God’s tender care for his
creation—including his most magnificent healing, in which humans broken by sin
can be reborn.
3.
Nature stories reveal our interconnectedness, and point
us to purpose greater than ourselves.
Life forms and their habitats depend upon each another to thrive. In the
Elwha River Valley, the river’s release from its dams showcases that
interdependence. As sections of the river reconnect, inhabitants—from birds,
otters and black bears to old growth trees and the valley’s People—see their
lives begin a return to the Creator’s original plan for their health and
interconnectedness. To His design for beauty and love.
As readers watch the healing unfold, they may also hear God’s call to
“tend” and “keep” the earth. And in gratitude and worship, they may say yes.
These themes of awe, restoration, and sacred purpose also show up in
my other novels—Sugar Birds and Leaning on Air—and in these favorites of
mine:
Kit Tosello’s Havah: The Story
of Eve, a breathtaking tale of paradise, exile, and the effects of both on
creation;
Leif Enger’s Peace Like a River,
where nature enfolds a broken family on their quest to wholeness;
Eowyn Ivey’s To the Bright Edge
of the World, where science and
art, seen and unseen planes, and diminutive humans interact on a vast
wilderness stage.
Have any of these books spoken to your
heart? I’d love to hear.
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