Infinitely Creative

“To every man, in his acquaintance with new art, there comes a moment when that which before was meaningless first lifts, as it were, one corner of the curtain that hides its mystery, and reveals, in a burst of delight which later and fuller understanding can hardly ever equal, one glimpse of the indefinite possibilities within.” C.S. Lewis | Out of the Silent Planet

“What has been the biggest thing you’ve learned this summer?” my friend asked a few weeks ago.

“Hmm…” I tried to answer, and I think I said something about languages and cultures, but I was truly thinking:

I don’t know... Surely I learned something. Maybe I need to be home to realize it?

A couple of weeks ago in Finland, my friend and I had this conversation. I had no idea what I had learned. I hadn’t even thought about it amidst the constant pack-and-move routine that characterized my summer. I realized there was something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it for a few more hours.

And a few days later, as I was desperately trying to fall asleep on my flight from Reykjavik to Boston, it hit me.

However, up until this evening, I’ve still struggled to put into words what exactly it was.

“I learned that God does so much more than we could imagine.”

"I’ve learned that there is so much potential in what God could do that we will never realize ourselves.”

I’ve stumbled through it a few times in sentences like those, but I haven’t been content with my explanations.

Today I read this quote above (s/o to Nations). It’s exactly what I’ve been feeling and trying to express in words.

A burst of delight which later and fuller understanding can hardly ever equal, one glimpse of the indefinite possibilities within.

This feeling started to become evident when I walked up to this waterfall last Tuesday. It’s not the biggest one. It’s not the most famous. It’s just off the highway at the end of a short gravel road. I learned about it via Instagram and I actually missed the exit and had to turn around because there wasn't a sign. 

But I was the only person there that morning and I was speechless.

As I looked at it (and every other part of Iceland), I thought:

This can’t be earth.

This isn’t even the cool one!

I didn’t even know a place could look like this.

I formed the hypothesis that God created Iceland to remind us that He is infinitely capable of doing things that we'd never think of ourselves. 

(At least that's what I gathered - I'll ask Him one day)

If I knew nothing about Iceland and someone told me this was the only waterfall to see, I would have been content with it. All I could do was stare at it. The amount of water pouring over the rocks, the clarity of the water. It blew me away. 

But it isn’t even great enough to have a sign!

I wondered, how many other incredible things have I passed without knowing? Not just in Iceland, but in the past couple of months, and in my 22 years of life.

How many incredible things are ahead? Both on Highway 35 right now and wherever I end up going next May.

Looking back now, I realize that all throughout the summer I caught glimpses of this thought.

I’d arrive and think “Wow, I never knew this ­  language, place, food, resource, concept, person, belief, idea, landform, etc…   existed!”

Mountains made of white stone, fields with free-roaming cattle, generous strangers, geysers, dishes I ate but couldn't pronounce, miles of rainbow wildflowers, picking fruit in the front yard, the clearest blue waters, fog-capped cliffs…

And I’ve realized that my thoughts this summer can be summed up in this: if God is so infinitely creative with rocks and water, how much more can He do with His children?