1.21 blog

I feel morally obligated by starting this post with caveat lector, here there be spoilers.

Alright, with that out of the way, and my conscience clear, let’s proceed. Last night, several friends and I were gathered to watch the premiere episode of the final season of Lost. It’s been a long strange trip as we’ve explored themes like redemption, connection, fate, faith, science, time travel, relativity, etc. etc. As the evening proceeded, we got into one of those ever popular discussions of morality.

Last season, having traveled back to 1977, one of the characters, Sayid, became convinced that his purpose was to kill the child-version of one of the show’s “villains,” Benjamin Linus. Sayid knew that Ben would grow up, commit mass murder, lie, manipulate, and generally make life miserable for a wide variety of characters. And so, in cold blood, he shot the boy. And our discussion turned upon whether or not Sayid’s actions were morally right. I maintain they aren’t. Several others disagree with me.

This question comes up in a variety of other pop-culture settings. If Elrond can decisively defeat the Dark Lord Sauron by throwing Isildur into the fires of Mount Doom along with the One Ring, should he? If Jack Bauer can prevent an explosion from killing the innocent, but in order to do so, he must torture someone, should he?

And then, it comes up in the real world. Is it justifiable to attack another country because we think they might attack us, and we need to get them first? If you can prevent the Holocaust by throwing two year old Adolf Hitler down a well, should you? Is it the right thing to murder a doctor who performs abortions, thereby preventing the further killing of the unborn?

Interestingly, the idea that these actions would be morally good is a philosophy called “utilitarianism,” which was propounded by a man named Jeremy Bentham. Lost-philes will recognize that this was the name adopted by John Locke when he left the Island. Students of philosophy will appreciate that Jeremy Bentham and John Locke were philosophical rivals. Anyway, utilitarianism basically says that what makes an action right or wrong is its usefulness. What is right is to bring the greatest amount of pleasure, to the greatest number of people, and avoid as much pain as possible. On this account, then all of the scenarios mentioned above would be “right.”

As much as I’d love to have avoided tragedies like the Holocaust (and as much as I enjoy 24), I’m still convinced that they’re wrong. The reason J.R.R. Tolkien didn’t have Elrond throw Isildur into the fire (There’s a scene where he could have in the films. I can’t recall whether or not there is in the books. I’ll know soon enough, as rereading them is next on my fiction docket), is that, as a Roman Catholic, he inhabited a moral universe where some actions are right or wrong in and of themselves, irrespective of their results. As a fellow member of the same broadly Christian heritage, I agree. So does Paul, in Romans 3.8, he denies the viability of a moral theory suggesting we do evil so that good may come.

As John Milbank demonstrates in his Theology and Social Theory, the modern world is founded on a myth of violence and scarcity. As a result violent struggle is inescapable, and Machiavellian actions are quite justified. Friedrich Nietzsche especially laid this bare. However, the alternative is the Christian conception, which sees reality as founded upon the Trinity, who is peace-full coexistence and love. If there is such a God, whose nature is Good, then goodness derives from him. So long as we believe in such a God, we’re with Tolkien in his assessment of right and wrong. This often leaves us with a universe stained and strained with tragedy. But our hope is not to fix what’s wrong. Instead, our hope is in the one who, on the cross, took tragedy upon himself, who rose from the dead, and who one day will return and be sure that all things are set right.

I’m not telling you what moral theory you should adopt. I’m not dictating what political policies should be. But I do recommend serious consideration of what our moral theory, and the actions that arise from those theories say about what we believe about God.

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

Due to the weather and road conditions, the pastors have decided that we won’t gather corporately tomorrow. The national weather service is advising that no one drive in our area unless it’s an emergency. We want everyone to be safe. However, this doesn’t mean that we’re cancelling church. The church is both a place where certain things happen (preaching, sacraments, etc.) and a people who belong to Jesus by grace through faith. We are the institution through which God brings himself to us through word and sacrament, and the community of people who respond to God in loving worship to Jesus and service to our neighbors.

So the church won’t meet as an institution tomorrow, but as the people of God we’ll still be active. We want to be sure that Jesus is still worshiped by his church tomorrow, and so we encourage you to take some time to read and reflect on the Scriptures, perhaps sing some hymns to Christ, and to pray with your family. The Book of Common Prayer, for instance, has some nice suggestions for devotions to use as individuals or with families (you’ll find them under the “Daily Office.”). To help with this, we’re posting Pastor Stephen’s thoughts regarding the sermon he’d have preached if we’d gathered. We hope you’ll enjoy reflecting on and discussing them. In addition, we want to encourage you to take some time to love and serve your neighbors tomorrow. For instance, you may offer to shovel their walk, or have them over for a hot drink, perhaps you have snow “toys” you could lend them. Be creative, but be loving. The theme we’d have explored this week was God’s great compassion on the people all around us. You have the chance to be instruments of that compassion!

But without further ado, here are Pastor Stephen’s concluding thoughts on the Book of Jonah. You might want to take a minute to reread the book as a whole, or at least chapter four.

Over the last three weeks we’ve explored this book, and the consistent theme to emerge has been the compassion of God. This isn’t a story about you and me, or even about Jonah. It’s a story about a compassionate God, who will do anything (from sea storms, to Giant Fish, to idiots like Jonah and the rest of us) to bring his compassion to people who need it. In this last chapter, we see a final “showdown” between God and Jonah, as they have a Q and A session about God and his ways. Through it we learn about God’s heart, as well as Jonah’s, and hopefully our own.

At the end of chapter three, God relents of the disaster he was going to send upon the city of Nineveh. They had turned from their violent ways, and so he had mercy on them. But in verses 1-4 of chapter four, we see that Jonah’s not happy about this at all. He broods and complains because he’s sure that Nineveh should be burned to the ground instead of spared (bear in mind, these were enemies of Israel, who would ultimately destroy them). So he prays/complains to God and says, “This is exactly why I ran away to begin with, because I knew you were merciful, and I didn’t want that for Nineveh.” Think about the heart behind that statement. Jonah loves the mercy of God…for himself (see chapter 2). But when it comes to anyone else, he hates it. Jonah knows wonderful truth about God, but he hasn’t let it seep into his heart and transform the way he sees others.

You and I do the same thing when we keep the wonderful news of Jesus to ourselves.

Anyway, Jonah’s so upset that he’d rather die. It’s better for him to die than to live in a world where the city of Nineveh is spared. He’s getting a bit melodramatic here. He’s like the racist southerner who doesn’t want to live in a world where he has to drink from the same water fountain as a black man. God doesn’t just leave Jonah to himself, though. He asks him, “Do you do right to be angry?” (This is a question we should all ask ourselves from time to time.)

Apparently Jonah misunderstands things. God has basically told him that he has no good reason for anger, which must mean that the Ninevites are going to be destroyed after all. Because if they aren’t going to be destroyed, he does do well to be angry. This shows how easily we can assume that God is on our side. That he agrees with whatever it is that we think. Jonah assumes God’s with him on this thing after all: “Good move God, lull them into a false sense of security and then strike when they least expect it.” So he heads up east of the city, sets up a nice booth and sits down in the shade, waiting for the fireworks to start. It’s going to be a good show when these terrorists burn (the Ancient Near Eastern version of 24), and he doesn’t want to miss it. But God doesn’t pull a Jack Bauer. Nothing happens.

Meanwhile, God still uses his providential care to shield Jonah from the heat, sending up a plant to shade him. Even though Jonah’s an angry idiot, God still has compassion for him and takes care of him. Jonah rejoices at this. But God is up to something more. The next day, he sends a worm to kill the plant, which leads to Jonah being angry once more. He decides he’d rather die than live in a world where it’s hot outside and plants are dying.

So God questions him once more, “Do you do right to be angry about the plant?” Jonah responds like a stubborn four year old. “Yes I do well to be angry, angry enough to die.”

“Well,” God says, “Shouldn’t I be the same way with Nineveh?” Nineveh is a great city, not an insignificant plant. Nineveh’s been around for centuries, not just a day. God made Nineveh, unlike Jonah with the plant. And Nineveh is filled with people. Not just people, but people who don’t know their right from their left (a phrase demonstrating ignorance, and usually moral ignorance). There are all these people who know nothing, they’re caught up in their sin and ignorance. The proper response is not anger and judgment (not yet at least), but rather pity and love. Do we have compassion on sinners, or are we just angry and self-righteous toward them? God is the only one in the Universe with any right to be angry and judgmental, and he has pity. How much more should we? We like it when God is merciful to us, shouldn’t we be merciful to others?

How has God shown to us that he has pity for us?  How has he protected us? How has he taught us mercy,  love, and compassion? Through Jesus.
In his life, death and resurrection, God brings his people out of darkness, by taking that darkness on himself. He can be merciful because he has done what is necessary for him to be able to “relent from disaster.” Not only has he told us to be a people of compassion. He has formed us as a people through his compassion. He has shown us what compassion looks like on the cross. If you ever wonder whether or not God cares: look to the cross. There’s the answer. God allowed himself to be God-forsaken so that you would never be abandoned.

Some points of application:

1. Jonah cared more about a plant than a city full of people. Do your priorities line up with what really matters?
2. God cares about our great cities. Do we?
3. Does our use of time and energy reflect a care for the people around us, or like Jonah, is our life just about ourselves?

Finally, in concluding our study of Jonah, the following question would be good for reflection:

1. What have we learned about God through this Book?
2. Will we allow this truth to penetrate and permeate our lives?

This past Sunday, I preached a sermon from Jonah 2, where Jonah cries out to God from the belly of a great fish. This is the first time in the book that Jonah prays. In chapter one, he was on a sinking ship, full of sailors crying out to their gods, and begging him to cry out to his God. But he didn’t. Then he’s thrown overboard, nearly drowns, and is rescued by being swallowed by a giant fish. God supernaturally keeps him alive inside the fish, and after three days, Jonah finally prays. Let’s think about this. God has rescued him, and is preserving him, and it takes him three days to get around to praying. This guys and idiot!

And we do the same thing. We more or less go through the week as atheists. Sure, many Christians will spend a few moments glancing at their Bible or trying to mumble a few prayers as their day begins. But by the time you get to the middle of the day, where real life happens, we’ve forgotten all about God. When was the last time God was a significant factor in your decision making? Or the last time you spontaneously gave him thanks for his gifts (and before a meal doesn’t count)?

I’ve been thinking about this, and I think one of the causes of this is that churches have forgotten how to relate to God in the ordinary. Evangelicals have this tendency to be very “spiritual,” looking down on “material” and “mundane” things (which tends towards the heresies of Gnosticism and Docetism). And because this is the case, there’s a tendency to expect to find God in odd, extraordinary, bolt-out-of-the-blue ways. I’ve had a few of those, but they’ve been few and far between. It’s good to have such experiences. It’s good to desire them. But the problem is that they can tend to cloud the way God normally relates to us.

The ways God relates to us are often quite ordinary, mundane, and (dare I say?) boring. And that’s great, because that’s how real life is! It’s ordinary, by definition! And of course it’s mundane, we live in the mundum (Latin for world). The idea that we should avoid the mundane is a devaluation of the created order established by God (which he said was very good). God has created this world. He has given us bodies. He’s ordered human life so that we have our common tasks, etc. He has established all of this.

And that means that while our lives are ordinary and mundane, they are by no means trivial. Because God has created and established our boring ordinary lives, they are shot through with significance. And it’s in those ordinary, “boring” moments that we relate to God. So perhaps, rather than expecting God to rend the heavens and shake the earth all the time, we should ask God to help us appreciate and find him in the ordinary mundane lives he has given us.

Just some food for thought.

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

Today the United States observes Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Celebrating and honoring that champion of this civil rights movement. Dr. King challenged the racism of his day, and did so from a position firmly within the Christian tradition. Now, decades after his death, we are seeing definite signs of progress: we have an African American President, for one thing. But we still have so far to go. For example, back in December, the New York Times reported on highly qualified African American job applicants having a hard time getting hired due to racial disparities. Racism is still very much with us.

And Christianity is fundamentally and intractably opposed to racism. I know there are racist Christians. I know Christianity has been used to underwrite racist agendas. But still, the religion on the whole is inherently anti-racist.

Christians have a doctrine of creation in the Image of God (Genesis 1.26-27). Therefore, all humanity is fundamentally equal. You cannot be a racist without denying creation.

Christians believe that the Savior of humanity is Jesus Christ. This one Jewish man suffered death for all peoples, purchasing for God a church from every nation, tribe, and tongue (e.g., Revelation 5.9). Again, this underscores the fundamental equality of all races. You cannot be a racist without seriously undermining the doctrine of salvation.

This is played out in various places in the Bible. In Galatians 2, Paul rebukes Peter for his racism. But he doesn’t just say, “Peter, how dare you be a racist? That’s very wrong of you!” Instead, he tells Peter that he is not walking in line with the gospel of Jesus. Racism is a gospel issue.

In Ephesians 2 we read that the former walls of racial hostility are broken down in Jesus so that Jews and Gentiles (and Whites, Blacks, Latinos, Asians, etc.) are united into One Body in Christ. We share one baptism (Ephesians 4.5). We eat of one bread, and drink of one cup (1 Corinthians 10.16-17). Christians “believe…in the holy catholic church” (The Apostles Creed). You cannot be a racist without undercutting belief in the holy catholic church. People from all different races are our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Racism spits in the face of Jesus Christ.

If you indulge in racism, these passages of Scripture should chill you.

“Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in him there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded his eyes.” (1 John 2.9-11)

“If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot  love God whom he has not seen.  And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.” (1 John 4.20-21)

We’re all implicated in racism. And the proper response when we see this is not to deny it, or point to others whose racism is worse than our own. It is to repent. The Dutch Reformed Churches learned this. For years they had taken part in the evil of apartheid in South Africa. The turning point came, when in an act of repentance, they declared apartheid (and racism in general) to be a heresy and turned from it.

Racism is a terrible sin. But Jesus Christ is an even greater Savior.

Today, as we honor the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, give thanks to God for the progress that’s been made, and beg him for strength to carry the fight forward into the future.

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

This past Sunday, Pastor Stephen preached from Jonah chapter one. One of the things he noted was that, in this passage the “man of God” (Jonah) is a much worse person than the idolatrous pagan sailors with whom he’s trapped on a sinking ship. As they perish on deck, crying out to gods who cannot save them, Jonah is comfortably below, taking a nap. They call upon him to pray, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even tell them about the true God, the LORD, who could save them (he sort of grudgingly gets around to giving them a half answer about God later in the text). And when he reveals that the only way for them to be saved is to throw him overboard, they still do their best to row back to safety and save his life. These pagans are better people than him.

It’s still like that today. I’m not sure where Christians get the idea that they are the “good” people and everyone else is “bad,” but it’s a pervasive attitude. I, on the other hand, agree with Carl Trueman, who in a pretty funny piece, writes, “The bottom line: in my experience, Christians can be horrible people; and, basically, they cannot be trusted to sell you chewing gum, let alone a used car.” Often times we Christians are sent on mission to people who are much better than we are. Why is this? Why are Christians often so lousy, and non-Christians often so much better?

The answers are actually related. Christianity is a religion for sinners. And sin isn’t just the bad stuff we do. It’s who we are, it’s what we think, it’s how we feel, it’s what we want, it’s what motivates us, it’s what we leave undone. It’s a pervasive reality. As Christians, we believe that all have sinned (Romans 3.23), and that as fallen men and women, our sin has perverted every aspect of who we are so that we are totally depraved. So we shouldn’t be surprised if Christians are often terrible people. This is exactly the sort of thing that we should expect, given what we believe about sin.

But what about when non-Christians are good? How can we believe in total depravity when so many people are doing such good things?

Here’s where we can get off base. We hear “total depravity,” and we understand that to mean: people are as bad as they could possibly be, and they never do anything good. But that’s wrong. Total depravity means that every aspect of who we are is affected by the fall. Our actions, our words, our thoughts, our desires, and especially our wills are twisted and tainted by sin. It doesn’t mean we never do anything good, instead it means that we never do anything good enough for God. These are very different ideas. If I help someone out, but have a selfish motive, am I doing something good? Yes! The person really gets helped. We don’t have to pretend it’s bad to help people. But when God comes into the picture, the answer is no. God sees my bad motives, and therefore my “good” work isn’t good enough for him. But in his common grace, it’s still good. It still helps people. It still makes the world a better place.

The answer to realizing that our best works are tainted by sin is not to stop doing good works. Instead, it’s to stop looking to our good works to score us points with God, and instead to rely on the good works that Jesus did in our place (especially by his death and resurrection). These works are imputed to our account, as though we had done them, so that because of Jesus we are “good enough” for God. And this frees us to love and serve our neighbors with our imperfect, sin-tainted good works.

So don’t be surprised when you find that non-Christians are better people than Christians. This is exactly the sort of thing we should expect. As Christians, we should be growing and maturing, and making this less true. But in the end, Christianity’s not about “being good.” Instead, it’s about the one truly good Person in all human history laying down his life for screw-ups like you and me.

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

As I mentioned in a previous post, in a quest for greater catholicity and churchly formation, I’m using the Book of Common Prayer’s Daily Office Lectionary to guide my personal reading of Scripture.

The readings for today (Epiphany) were Psalms 46; 97 (morning); 96; 100 (evening); Isaiah 52.7-10; Revelation 21.22-27; and Matthew 12.14-21. One of the themes running throughout these passages is God’s salvation extending to the ends of the earth, blessing all nations, and his dwelling in their midst as their God.

It struck me that the greatest blessing God offers us is himself, and that throughout eternity we will celebrate and enjoy his presence with us. This is where those who belong to Jesus are heading. One of the purposes of this earthly life is to develop our palate so that when we see God face to face in the new heavens and the new earth, we will be equipped to enjoy him as we ought.

Pepsi is straightforward, uncomplex, and easily accessible. Anyone can drink Pepsi. Anyone can enjoy Pepsi. It doesn’t take any skill because there’s nothing to it (other than the potential for diabetes and cavities, but that’s another conversation). Wine, on the other hand, takes some getting used to. It’s an aquired taste, requiring time, effort, and discernment. The first time someone drinks Pepsi, it’s the same as everytime. Everyone tastes the same thing right away. But the first sip of wine may seem sour or bitter. Experienced connoisseurs, though will detect a panoply of aromas, tastes, and sensations (black currant, tobacco, leather, cherry, tree fruits, smoke, etc. etc.). Wine is a delightfully complex drink. The process of going from “bitter” to “delight” is called building your palate.

Anyone with a developed palate will tell you that wine is better than Pepsi (it’s better for you too…just saying). There’s always something more to discover, greater depths to enjoy, further intricacies to experience. It’s like that with God too. He’s not Pepsi. He takes some getting used to. This is why so many of us have trouble with prayer, or reading Scripture, or finding church interesting/relevant. We have no palate for it yet.

The world offers us a lot of Pepsi. And there’s even a place for Pepsi. I drink it occassionally. But God is a well cellared bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. You won’t appreciate the Cab without the proper palate. You won’t develop said palate without practice.

So drink up me hardies!

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

Over the Christmas break (or, in light of this post, at the end of Advent and beginning of Christmas), I spent a good deal of time reflecting on Christian life and the forms it takes. I can’t put my finger on exactly what led to this realization (because I can think of a number of factors), but I came into the Christmas Season with a newfound conviction that our lives as Christians ought to be more formed by the Church, and reflect a more catholic Christianity (FYI: “catholic” [with a small c] does not mean Roman Catholic, that would be a capital C): a Christianity that spans across centuries, continents, and cultures; a Christianity that realizes that Church History didn’t begin with Billy Graham, or even Martin Luther.

So much of American Christianity is individualistic, privatized, and autonomous. But a catholic Christianity is, corporate, public, and lays a claim on you. Rather than me and my private opinions and interpretations driving things, I recognize that I’ve entered into a much larger, longer lasting conversation, which I need to learn and take seriously before dashing off and making pronouncements willy-nilly. Ultimately, we have to go with our own convictions derived from Scripture. However, to think that we can develop these convictions whilst ignoring the Great Conversation is prideful in the extreme.

So we read the Bible with the Church. One way my wife and I will be seeking to do that this year is to structure our personal reading of Scripture according to the Daily Office Lectionary found in the Book of Common Prayer. The BCP is the service book/worship manual used by the Anglican Communion, and is a treasure of Reformation era Liturgy. The Daily Office Lectionary is on a two year cycle (we’re in year 2 now, in the Christmas Season until January 6, which is Epiphany), and will take you through the Bible in great breadth (though not its entirety). Each day includes readings from Psalms, the Old Testament, the New Testament letters, and a Gospel. It’s a good way to get a lot of diversity in your Bible reading (which keeps you from getting bogged down when you reach lengthy sections that seem less interesting or “relevant,” but also doesn’t let you just choose your favorite parts).

Each day Christians all over the planet will be reading these same Scripture texts. This is a great opportunity for you to start reading the Bible with the Church, and to be formed by the Conversation already in progress. Many of you will have made resolutions to begin reading Scripture this year. I’d highly recommend that you consider using this as a tool.

If you need help navigating the lectionary, please comment, and we’ll see if we can help you out.

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

In our last post, we noted that while God does reveal himself in his creation, that due to our fallen condition, we universally distort and supress that revelation. We misinterpret it, and we fashion a god of our own making. Apart from Scripture as our guide, we will get ourselves off track and find a god who happens to be eerily similar to us. (By the way, if you find that “God” is frequently underwriting your life goals, agenda, politics, etc., in other words, if God seems to always agree with you, that’s  a very good indication that you aren’t dealing with the True God. And really when you think about it, what’s the point in having a god who thinks the same thing you do? Why even bother?)

You may be looking for god, but as Martin Luther noted, if we find our way to god on our own, it’s not God that we’d find, but the devil. And even if we were to make our way to the True God, Scripture teaches us that he is a consuming fire, who will destroy sinners with his righteous wrath. Think about yourself.  The choices you make. The real reasons you do things. The thoughts you think about other people. God sees all of that. He knows. And he is righteous. You don’t want to find God on your own.

Thank God that’s not the last word though! Thank God that when Ahaz says, “I don’t need a sign,” God doesn’t say, “You know, this is really tiring. Ahaz, you can just go to hell.” Instead God says, “I’ll give you a sign myself, then.” And the sign is what we celebrated last Friday at Christmas. The virgin will conceive and bear a Son. They will call his name Immanuel. Matthew 1.21-23 explains that this was fulfilled when the Virgin Mary gave birth to a child named Jesus, who is the Son of God and the Son of Man. That he is Immanuel, which means, “God with us.”

Through the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus, God has found us. The only safe place to encounter God is Christ, where the human and divine natures meet in perfect unity (and one person). The only safe way to come into God’s presence is clothed in the righteousness that Jesus’ life and death have procured. The only safe way of relating to God is on the basis of what his Son has done in our place.

I don’t know why we have this tendency to look for experiences of God outside of/beyond Christ. But we do. Even Christians. We want to go “deeper.” Whatever that means. Usually it involves going deeper into myself. But God doesn’t want us to go deep in that sense. He calls us out of ourselves to Christ. God is happy to give us everything we need. But in our pride we have a tendency to look elsewhere. But think of it, that makes no sense. We don’t have to find God, he’s already come to us: Immanuel. What more could we possibly need?

Posted by: Gene Schlesinger

We’ve been looking at God’s conversation with Ahaz in Isaiah 7.10-16, and learning about how we can rightly know God. That word “rightly” is the key word, because biblically speaking, everyone knows God (Romans 1.18-23). The problem is that their “personal relationship with Jesus” is the relationship of enemy. In our last post we saw that God offers Ahaz help in knowing him. He offers him a sign. The bottom line for us to learn from this (and basically all the posts in this series will be saying this in different ways) is take what God offers.

God wants us to know him. Fine and good. But that begs the question:  which god? What’s he like? How can we learn about him?

And here’s where a lot of us get off track, because we’re looking for God all over the place, and missing out on what he is offering us. God reveals himself to us in his Word (Hebrews 1.1-3; 2 Timothy 3.16). So if you want to know God, you need regular exposure to the Word. If you’re not in the Word, you don’t want to know God. Period.

Knowing God is more than knowing the Bible. But it’s not less.

And here’s why we need the Bible. While it’s true that you can learn about God from nature, Scripture teaches us that  the knowledge we get from nature is very limited (we can learn that there is a God and that he’s powerful, that’s all). It also teaches that the revelation of God in nature is universally misinterpreted and misunderstood (See Romans 1.18-20). So even if you do find God in the flowers, you will always misunderstand that experience and be led away from him without Scripture. John Calvin reminds us that our hearts are factories of idols. Left to ourselves, we’ll never find God. Any gods we find that way will more closely resemble ourselves than the True God.