This would be an excellent center for discussion for the month of God (or work, if focusing on creation).
"Earth: A Gift from God" (Ensign, Feb. 2013)
The supreme
beauty of the natural world reminds us of the power and perfection of
God. When we are in nature, feelings of hope, peace, and reverence come
to us through the Spirit. In nature we can see the handiwork of the
perfect Artist. For centuries mankind has tried to emulate the handiwork
of God. No human, however, has been able to match the perfect artistry
of the Lord. Sometimes I wonder if God created the earth as He did to
give us a small taste of what is in store for us in the future. If this
earth can be so astoundingly beautiful, what must the renewed and
perfected earth look like?
Alma
taught, “All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all
things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also
all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there
is a Supreme Creator” (Alma 30:44). Every tree, every mountain, every bird in the air testifies of our Heavenly Father’s power.
There
are so many fun activities that could go with this! The article
touches upon art, as well, making it a great month to focus on nature in
the art lens, perhaps even doing photography and studying such nature
photographers as Ansel Adams? The original article in the Ensign has
beautiful photos as a perfect framework for the subject matter of the
article.
If you were to do this theme of
"Role of God" the first month, as does the Layton Kaysville group, then
you could do some outdoor activities as well.
Just some thoughts and ideas :)!
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Just
noticed the "Side bar" with the quote from M. Russell Ballard, along
with the question "why did God create the earth?" It speaks of the role
of the earth as a proving ground for all of us...which would fit in
well with work, stewardship, and responsible citizens. Love it!
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ADDITIONAL RESOURCES TO COINCIDE WITH THIS APPROACH TO THIS THEME:
Poem from T'ao Ch'ien (365-427 a.d.) Returning to the farm to dwell:
When I was young, I was out of tune with the herd,
Long I lived checked by the bars of a cage;
Now I have turned again to Nature and Freedom.
My only love was for the hills and mountains.
Unwitting I fell into the Web of World's dust,
And was not free until my thirtieth year.
The migrant bird longs for the old wood;
The fish in the tank thinks of its native pool.
I had rescued from wildness a patch of the Southern Moor
And, still rustic, I returned to field and garden.
My ground covers no more than ten acres;
My thatched cottage has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows cluster by the eaves;
Peach trees and plum trees grow before the Hall.
Hazy, hazy the distant hamlets of men;
Steady the smoke that hangs over cottage roofs.
A dog barks somewhere in the deep lanes,
A cock crows at the top of the mulberry tree.
At gate and courtyard — no murmur of the World's dust;
In the empty rooms — leisure and deep stillness.
Long I lived checked by the bars of a cage;
Now I have turned again to Nature and Freedom.
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Li Po poetry:
You ask
me why I lodge in these emerald hills;
I laugh,
don't answer—my heart is at peace.
Peach
blossoms and flowing waters
go off
to mysterious dark,
And there
is another world,1
not of
mortal men.
You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men.
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This piece is incredibly beautiful addressing, among many other truths, the restorative power of nature and it's ability to inspire.
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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth
