Prayer Through Creation

The weather in Central Texas has been absolutely wonderful this week.  It's cool in the morning and then warms up nicely by the afternoon without being so beastly hot that you don't want to be outside at all.  That will come in a few months, mind you, but right now it's amazing. 

Mornings are my favorite time to be outside this time of year, just after the sun has come up and the birds have awakened, and are singing their songs.  The Japanese plum tree in my front yard has bloomed, its white and pink flowers filling the air with a lovely scent.  

If it wasn't for the fact that my allergies have turned my head into a stuffed-up mess, I'd enjoy it even more.  But that's beside the point.  

St. Francis of Assisi once referred to Creation as the "fifth Gospel."  His belief was that if you spent long enough outside in nature, you could learn about God's creativity, love and kindness just as well as if you were reading about it, maybe even more.  

I believe that Creation can teach us to pray as well.  There is an aspect of worship in being in nature, fully present, and open to its wonders.  

Creation itself prays. “The heavens are telling the glory of God,” the psalmist proclaims (Psalm 19:1). When we slow down and pay attention to the natural world, prayer becomes less about speaking and more about noticing. Creation invites us into awe, humility, and gratitude.

Many of us feel closest to God outdoors—not because creation replaces prayer, but because it awakens it. The rhythms of nature remind us that life unfolds in seasons. Growth takes time. Rest is necessary. Beauty exists even alongside brokenness.

Jesus frequently prays outdoors—on mountains, near water, under open skies. His prayer life is integrated with creation, reminding us that God’s presence is not confined to sanctuaries. “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it” (Psalm 24:1).

Prayer through creation teaches us attentiveness. We notice light, sound, movement. We learn to be present rather than distracted. Creation does not rush. It invites us to live at a pace shaped by trust rather than urgency.

This form of prayer also reconnects us to our bodies. Breathing deeply, walking slowly, noticing sensations—all become acts of prayer. We remember that we are creatures, not machines.

During Lent, creation can become a companion in prayer. A walk. A moment of stillness outside. Watching the sky change. These simple practices draw us closer to God’s sustaining presence.

Creation reminds us that God is already at work all around us. Our task is not to manufacture prayer, but to receive it.

Prayer
Creator God, open our eyes to your presence in the world around us. Teach us to pray with wonder and gratitude. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do you feel most aware of God in creation?

2. How does nature shape your prayer?

3. What does slowing down outdoors awaken in you?