Blessings Beyond Measure

God, I’m sitting here tonight with the windows open. The breeze smells like wet grass, or maybe it’s freshly cut grass, but whichever, I love that smell. It’s subtle—but it’s sweet. And I just can’t keep this feeling inside anymore: I’m so overwhelmed by the beauty You’ve created. The more I look at this world, the more I realize… I’ve barely scratched the surface of what You’ve made. And yet, even this tiny glimpse stirs something in me so deep, I want to shout praises from the rooftops, as corny as that sounds, but it feels so wonderful God.

You didn’t have to make the sky shift colors at sunset.
You didn’t have to create thousands of fish with different patterns and personalities.
You didn’t have to make flowers that bloom for just a week—but You did.
Why? Because You’re not just Creator. You’re generous. You’re thoughtful. And You are good.

You are so good, God.

I mean, Genesis 1 makes it pretty clear:
“And God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31 ESV)
Not just “okay.” Not “meh.” You called it very good. And I get it. I see it. I feel it in my soul.

Even the parts of nature that scare me—like thunderstorms, volcanoes, or deep oceans—I’m learning to reverence those too. Because even their wildness obeys You. You set their boundaries.

“Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb… when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’?” (Job 38:8,11 NIV)

I don’t care what scientists or skeptics say. I don’t care if people roll their eyes and say, “It’s just evolution,” or “It’s just nature doing its thing.” No, it’s not just anything.
It’s Yours.

And if I have to be that woman who stands in a room and says “Nope, actually GOD did that,” then I will. I’d rather be mocked for standing by my faith than silently agree with a world that forgets who painted the skies.

Lord, I’m thankful by faith. Because this kind of gratitude requires more than just observation. It requires belief. Eyes that see beyond what’s visible. Faith that declares, even in a world twisted by sin, God’s creation is still speaking.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” (Psalm 19:1 NIV)

Every time the sun rises, it’s testifying.
Every wave that crashes, every leaf that flutters in the wind, every star that burns millions of miles away—all of them are testifying to Your majesty. And I’m listening, Lord.

I’m not pretending everything is perfect. I know creation groans. Romans 8:22 says so:
“We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”

But even in the groaning, there’s glory. Even in the brokenness, there’s beauty. Even in the suffering, there’s still evidence of a Creator who cares.

What blows my mind the most, God, is that You didn’t make everything in black and white. You didn’t make it sterile or boring. You gave us color. And textures. And scents. And sounds. I mean… oranges smell like sunshine. Lavender smells like peace. Ocean waves sound like rest. And birds sing like they were born to worship.

You made this world with so much love. You didn’t rush it. You didn’t mass-produce it. You crafted it.

Every creature. Every corner. Every ecosystem.
You are the original artist, and nature is Your canvas.
And I feel sorry for anyone who misses that.

That’s the part that makes me bold. Maybe even confrontational. Because I will not sit quiet while people pretend the universe made itself. No. God made it.
And not only that—You sustain it.

“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” (Colossians 1:17 ESV)

Without You, the oceans would rise out of control. The planets would collide. The sun would burn us up or vanish.
But You hold it all.
I don’t need scientific data to prove that.
I feel it in my bones.
I believe it because I know You.

Even if no one else around me acknowledged You, I’d still bow in gratitude. I’d still praise You in the middle of a forest, or on a crowded street, or stuck in traffic. Because I see what You’ve done.

I mean… how can I not?
You made fireflies that glow like little lanterns.
You made snowflakes that are all different—every. single. one.
You made the Grand Canyon and grains of sand.
You did that.

Lord, forgive us for taking it for granted. Forgive me, even, for walking past flowers without stopping to admire them. Forgive us for driving under starry skies with our eyes glued to glowing screens instead. What a tragedy, to miss the Creator’s artwork because of distraction. What a waste.

So tonight, I’m stopping.

I’m pausing everything and just saying: Thank You.
Not just for what You made, but how You made it. And why.

Because You didn’t just make it to be beautiful—you made it to reveal Yourself.

Nature reflects Your character. Your patience. Your order. Your extravagance.
Creation is not God—but it sure points to You like a neon sign.

I think of Romans 1:20:
“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.”

That hits hard. Nobody has an excuse to not believe. Creation is literally shouting that You exist. We just need to stop covering our ears.

So here’s my prayer tonight, God:

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God,
Thank You for the wonder of Your creation.
Thank You for the stars, the sea, the sky, and every living thing.
Thank You that You made a world in color, with sounds and scents and sensations that feed our souls.

I praise You not just for what my eyes can see, but for what my spirit knows.
Even when I don’t understand everything, I trust the One who made it all.
Give me eyes to see more. A heart to feel deeper. A voice to speak bolder.
Don’t let me get numb to the beauty around me.
Help me never take it for granted again.

Let my gratitude be loud. Let my faith be stubborn.
Let my life worship You in how I see, love, protect, and appreciate Your creation.
In Jesus’ mighty, creative, beautiful name — Amen.

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Final Thoughts…..

I guess some people would say this kind of awe fades with age. But I refuse that.
I want to stay wide-eyed and wonder-filled all my life. I want to be 80 years old still gasping at the moon like it’s the first time I’ve seen it.

Because You never get old, God.
Your mercies are new every morning.
Your creation is a constant sermon.
And I’m here for all of it.

I’m thankful by faith.
Not because I’ve seen every miracle, but because creation is already a miracle in motion.
And my soul knows it well.