I love being in the woods, breathing the crisp morning air well before the sun rises. Nature contains a fragile form of beauty at dawn that disappears quicker than a cicada emerging from its shell. A beauty that points us to the wonder of creation and ultimately, the wonder and beauty of God.
The transition from night to dawn happens fast. Complete darkness. Complete silence. Then a single sound echoes throughout the forest—a bird calls from some unseen roost. A moment later, a second bird answers. Then another. This influx isn’t gradual but immediate—pin drop silence to a loud choir of singers in minutes.
It really is as if some magical incantation has been spoken and all the sleeping life of the woods wakes up instantly. Slowly, a faint, amber glow appears on the horizon. Fields at the edge of the woods start to become visible, and you can see deer searching for food. Birds sing in harmony across the forest canopy. Squirrels begin chasing one another up and down trees. Sunlight falls on dew-covered grass and the spiraled art of spiders, sparkling like polished glass.
Its beauty is undeniable.
But why does it matter when I already sail upon a sea of stimuli, calling for my attention like Sirens?
Why am I compelled to leave my warm bed and comfort?
Why do I return again and again with a longing in my heart for something deeper, older—something even this marvelous encounter with nature cannot provide on its own?
Why I Return To Nature
Because I don’t come to the woods in the morning merely to meet creation, but the Creator. I don’t come just to hear birds singing and see light emerge but to witness glory and encounter the true Light.
Before the sun rises, Genesis 1:2 becomes palpable and vivid: “darkness was upon the face of the deep: and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters”. You can feel that movement. You can feel an anticipation building within yourself and all of creation as you wait for God to say, “Let there be light”.
Nature’s climax is rich precisely because it’s stripped of human influence. There’s an awareness of the holy in the morning forest because all the tasks, obligations, and distractions of the day have yet to crowd the mind. I can feel God’s presence deeper in those moments than any other time of day. Not because God is sometimes there and sometimes not; it’s that in our busy world there’s so much competing for our attention, and we’re usually too distracted to notice that presence.
What Creation Reveals About God
At dawn, each bit of individual activity in nature feels part of the whole. Each act works to glorify God. Even if they’re doing it wordlessly, the creatures of the forest are writing a testament that points to something greater. The birds aren’t conscious of what they’re doing, but yet, they’re still part of an orchestra. Deer aren’t out preaching but are following specific patterns of movement and activity. Dawn sends light through the forest on a strict schedule. It’s nearly impossible to be surrounded by the beauty of nature, sitting in quiet contemplation, and not see patterns and order emerge from what appears to be random chaos on the surface. It’s difficult to not feel a sacredness in the unraveling of a new day in the woods. It’s nearly infeasible to remain blind to the fact that we’re part of this process too.
But while we receive invitations from God to join the day’s dance, the rest of life simply complies with orders. The creatures of the forest don’t debate whether to hit snooze or get out of bed. They work like machines, following the specific directions of their Creator without questioning the instructions. They just do.
Me, though? Immediately upon waking, my ego is already alive and energized, fueling thoughts with “I” and “me”. There’s a drastic difference between how I greet the day and how nature does. I have instructions too, but I have full control of whether I want to follow them or not. Our calling as humans may not be as grand as whether the sun rises or not, but it doesn’t make it any less important. In fact, in some ways it makes it more so.
Free Will, Praise, and the Human Soul
While nature can glorify God, I think humans are unique in their ability to praise the Divine. The rest of nature is created beautifully, but only man is created “in the image of God” (Genesis 1:27). While nature is created from the “dust of the ground”, only man is created from “the dust of the ground” AND filled with “the breath of God” (Genesis 2:7). C. S. Lewis refers to this strange dilemma as being “amphibians—half spirit and half animal” in his novel, The Screwtape Letters. One of the demons in the book actually calls us a “revolting hybrid” and “…one of the things that determined Our Father [Satan] to withdraw his support from Him [God]”.
Humans are unique in their calling to glorify God while remaining free to refuse to do so. That freedom is vital to praise. We can only truly praise God when we use our free will to glorify God. When we purposefully delight in the beauty of a flower, love extends outward through creation and upward towards God.
Much like looking up at the stars, the rising sun and the awakening of the forest carries a gravitas that humbles us. It’s a reminder that ultimately, we’re not in charge and that there’s something bigger and stronger than we are. In those moments of grandeur, we can’t force anything. We can’t produce or fix or plan or prove our worth. We can only watch and be awed into submission.
False Idols and Forgotten Worth—Imago Dei
In the woods, I’m an observer. So much of modern life is dominated by me needing to be in action—needing to conquer, control, and consume. There’s a time and place for that, but life is a balance that we abandoned a long time ago. And that has severe consequences for the soul. When day in, day out we continue the facade that we’re in control of everything, that we can worship false idols without repercussions, that the only thing that matters is material possessions, and that God is either non-existent or irrelevant, the human soul becomes lost. It forgets that there are greater and graver things than serving the self (which often extends to the family). It forgets that its worth isn’t determined by how much money a person is worth, how much success the person has had, or even by how many good deeds the person has done. Its worth isn’t determined by outcomes but by design.
Each one of us are created Imago Dei—in the image of God. That is our worth. That is the stamp that says, “You’re special.” Not because of what you’ve done but because of whose you are. When we get confused and think the permanent ink of our worth is more like a badge presented by our peers that’s easily revoked, we strive and strive and strive not out of love or duty but to earn something we think we lack. To earn something as proof we’re something.
But in the woods, nature is not earning anything. It simply is. When we pay attention and marvel at the force that exists in all of life, humility is an automatic byproduct. We’re healthily brought down to size and can almost laugh at our delusions. We can let go of our need to be in charge. When we witness the beauty of nature, it’s obvious that something greater than ourselves is in complete and utter control.
Awed by Wonder, Humbled by the Presence of God
As I watch the morning sun rise, I’m not being asked to jump into action but to simply witness. To listen. To observe. To hear God singing throughout all of His creation, “It IS good.”
And maybe that’s one reason spending mornings in the woods draws me closer to God: they relieve me of the fears and anxieties that torment us all to varying degrees. They allow me to remember that no matter how much I and the rest of humanity mess up the world, everything is going to be just fine in the end.* They remind me that I didn’t create myself and am not the center of the universe—this isn’t bad news. It’s a relief because I know how prone I am to messing things up. God is God, and I’m not. I don’t need to hold the trees up to keep them from falling. The sun doesn’t need me to tell it to rise. The birds don’t need me to orchestrate their singing. Life is upheld by the will of God. The amount of security I feel is usually dependent on my awareness of God—right here, right now. Not in the Bible. Not on a Cross at Golgotha. Not on a future hope of Heaven. But in “I AM”, not “I was”.
This doesn’t nullify or make Scripture, the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ, or Heaven unimportant. Of course they’re important. But they will remain relics and fragile hopes if we can’t see the Spirit of God in the present moment, all around us, creating life and upholding it by His love.
The woods at dawn also awaken wonder, and wonder is one of the purest doors to worship. The natural world seems to whisper that reality is more than survival, schedules, doomscrolling, and shallow transactions. There is mystery here. There is magic here. There is radiant glory. There is an Eternal One constantly breathing life into His beautiful creation and making it new.
So that’s how I meet God in the woods at dawn. It doesn’t mean spending time in nature replaces prayer, Scripture, or fellowship, but for me, it helps silence all the distractions and false idols that consume our lives. The forest allows me to be still and listen again, reminding me that God’s creation speaks the language of its Creator and that dawn is never ordinary. When I sit back and watch the woods come alive, I suddenly meet the God who’s never disappeared and realize it’s been me missing all along. I’ve been the one hiding behind superficial and temporal things. Then I feel less like a spectator of nature and more like a witness of a command: “This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)
* Note: That’s not a license to do what you want. I take very seriously the call to, “Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground” (Genesis 1:28) not as conquerors beating them into submission but as managers protecting a cherished estate. I can’t imagine a Creator ever being ok with His creatures destroying His creation out of sheer greed or neglect.
Below I have included a poem of mine which I wrote with the intention of expressing this spectacular experience of nature “waking up” at sunrise as well as an invitation to sign up for my newsletter with exclusive content.
A Poem About Dawn Breaking in the Woods
Tree Stand Visions
Silence fills the depths of the wood until a single sound
penetrates through the fog of morning.
Nature's alarm clock is buzzing...silence stirs.
The forest is alive before sunrise.
The creatures of morning need no brewed elixir.
Carpe diem is embedded in their DNA.
Chirping echoes from treetops,
and birds take flight from twilight roots.
Deer scatter from their beds of dense undergrowth
and search the farmer's field for breakfast.
Nature's opening act closes with Aurora's grand entrance.
And I sit back and watch in wide-eyed wonder.
- Poem Written by Justin Farley
Soul Notes – Poems and Reflections
If you’re searching for meaning in a world that feels too busy, too loud, too dominated by endless scrolling, Soul Notes is a place to feel heard. A few times a month, I send reflections on nature, mental health, and spirituality. Words to carry with you.
Here Are Some Additional Spiritual and Nature Based Posts You May Enjoy:
Morning’s Pupil – A Poem About Finding God in Nature’s Beauty
A Haiku Poem About the Night Sky, Stars, and Dust
God Is Working Behind The Scenes
Contemplating and Discerning God’s Will
Silence Speaks Poem About Listening in Nature
Poem About Nature, Creation, and God
photo credit: Sun Getting Out Of Bed via photopin (license)
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