Eden, a Lily, and the Manger

That I would notice is proof of creation and of Eden and of the sixth day. That I would question Holly as to the classification of the flower, and that I would even think to do so, is proof that God made me quite a different creation from that of a dog or an elephant or a monkey. For which of those animals give any indication of caring about Holly’s tiny, neglected (so she told me) plant?

That I would lift my camera, focus with care, and process such an image tells of God and of how He made me. Biological evolution, you say? Creatures squirming from the sea, ascending then into trees, evolving into chattering monkeys, and then into me? You say? You think?

Been around any photography stores lately? Did perchance you see a monkey or a dog customer? Even one–just one– orangutan peering around the corner, or through the show glass just a bit reluctant to walk up to the counter and inquire about cameras and settings and price?

That I would see the tiny flower, that I would note its struggle for existence, (for it is as small as a paper clip), and that I would detect its pressing to unfold from its confining sheath, and that I would process its image is of God. The eternal, omnipotent, all-wise One. The One who somehow was born of a woman and laid in a manger of Bethlehem.

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