“Ethan Pyle: All things in nature point to the grand redemption story of new life through death:”

As I walk along, gravel crunching beneath my boots, the mist obscures the path ahead. I don’t mind the lack of sight. It reminds me that I can’t see the future but don’t have to, because I have faith that God sees all. I employ my other senses to experience the beauty of this morning, a morning created by God. The birds are just beginning their morning routines. I can hear them calling to each other, sending messages I can’t decipher—but God knows. The gravel gives way to the softer crunch of leaves. In their crisp death, they speak to me of the new life that is already forming in the branches above me—of Life through death. . .

Funny how God weaves these themes throughout his creation—almost as if he doesn’t want us to forget. Now, as I enter the forest, I can smell the season. The scent of leaf mould fills my nostrils. I breathe deeply. The trees are covering the forest floor with a blanket of leaves, tucking it in for its long winter sleep. Come spring, the dead leaves will provide nutrients for all the new green growing things. Life through death. . .

I make my way to a bench I haven’t visited in years. The path is much narrower now; I savor the wildness of it. It’s still dark, so I sit to wait for the sun. The bench is wet with the morning dew, but I don’t mind my jeans getting damp. As the light grows, the colors begin to reveal themselves. Fiery reds, rusty browns, vibrant yellows and oranges, and mature greens: a painting…