Where the Wild Things Praise: Finding God in the Great Outdoors

There’s something almost sacred about the smell of fresh pine after a summer rain. Or the way the sunlight dances across the surface of a lake just before dusk. Or how the sound of birdsong and the wind rustling through the trees can quiet even the loudest parts of your soul.

I’ve always had an extreme love for the outdoors. Give me dirt under my nails from a day in the garden, or a fishing rod in hand on the edge of a glassy lake at sunrise, and I’m in my happy place. Hiking winding trails, camping under the stars, cooking over an open fire—these aren’t just summer activities to me. They’re sacred rhythms that slow me down, ground me, and point me straight back to my Creator.

Summers in Canada Hit Different

If you’ve ever spent a summer in Canada, you know exactly what I mean. It’s like the world comes alive again—wildflowers bloom in full color, the lakes lose their icy grip, and suddenly the forests are teeming with life. After the long winters, stepping outside feels like breathing for the first time again.

Gardening is one of the ways I worship. Sounds funny, right? But I mean it. Digging into the soil, planting seeds, watching life grow from what was once just dirt—that's a miracle. And every time I kneel down in that garden, I feel like I’m part of something God started back in Eden. I see His provision in the produce, His creativity in every blossom, and His joy in the wild, unfiltered beauty of it all.

Hiking with Heaven

Some of my deepest talks with God haven’t been in a church pew. They’ve happened on long hikes with dirt on my boots and sweat on my brow. It’s in those quiet moments—when all you hear is your own breath and the crunch of gravel beneath your feet—that God feels so near. Every mountain trail I climb reminds me of His majesty. Every valley I walk through, His faithfulness. Nature preaches if we’re willing to listen.

And then there’s camping—where the stars tell His glory without saying a word (Psalm 19:1). Sitting around a campfire, stories and s'mores in hand, I’m reminded how simple joy can be. The slower pace of life out there in the wild helps me listen more, reflect deeper, and remember what really matters.

Fishing Poles and Faith Talks

Fishing has a way of calming the soul. There’s something about the waiting that feels like prayer. It’s not just about catching fish (although I’ll be honest, I do get pretty excited when I reel one in). It’s about being still. Watching the water. Trusting in the unseen. Every cast feels a little bit like faith—a hopeful toss into deep waters, believing something good will come of it.

And Then There’s Mud…

Let’s not forget the real adventure: 4x4 trucks and mud-soaked trails.

There’s something wild and freeing about heading down a backroad, windows down, music up, and no cell service in sight. The Canadian bush has a way of calling you off the beaten path—sometimes a little too far. I’ve been stuck in mud more times than I can count. Tires spinning. Engine roaring. Laughing so hard I could cry. And you know what? Those are some of my favorite memories.

Because getting stuck always leads to a story. And getting out—well, that takes teamwork, grit, and a whole lot of prayer. Isn’t that just like life? Sometimes you take a turn you didn’t expect, find yourself knee-deep in a mess, and God uses that exact moment to show up. Covered in mud, out of your element, and full of joy.

Creation Whispers His Name

The truth is, every time I step outside, I’m reminded that this world was spoken into existence. Trees, rivers, birds, sky—it’s all His. It’s all a reflection of who He is: creative, powerful, thoughtful, and wild in the best kind of way.

Romans 1:20 says that "God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made." And let me tell you, I see Him in every wildflower, every trout jumping out of the water, every deer that stares back at me through the trees.

So if you're ever looking for me in the summer, you’ll probably find me where the Wi-Fi is weak but the connection to Heaven is strong.
Out in the garden.
Or on a trail.
Or elbow-deep in mud after a detour gone sideways.

Wherever I am, I’ll be soaking up the beauty of God’s creation and thanking Him for the gift of this wild, wonderful world.