I wanted to spend the morning walking with God. Like, literally: walking from our cabin at the YMCA of the Rockies to a site on the map called Cub Lake, with a heart to worship and connect with God. I figured it would be a fairly nondescript hike to a fairly nondescript destination. Mostly just to pray. But I didn’t take the wildflowers into account. And wow! They really made an impression! I feel like I got to worship through wildflowers.

At first, I just ignored the little specks of color, in among the light green meadows, the dark green forests, and the purple-blue mountains. But the further I walked, the more the wildflowers grabbed my attention.

Yellow, pink, purple, white… The variety of sizes and shapes was startling. And inspiring.

As I kept passing more and more of these wildflowers, my mind flashed to remember Jesus’ words in the sixth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel: ”And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?”

So, I slowed myself down to take pictures of all the different varieties: lilies, and lupines, and primroses, and dandelions… I’m pretty sure there were over twenty different sorts of wildflowers on full display in the Rocky Mountain National Park today…

Such beauty! Such glory! And such worship!

The pictures don’t even do justice to these wonderful, worshipful wildflowers.

Yet, how often do I really stop and take the time to consider the wildflowers?

It hardly seems fair to call one ”more beautiful” than another. However, the firey red blossoms known as Indian Paint Brushes are particularly noticeable. And particularly beautiful.

I’ve got a couple of friends who are talking about getting tattoos of an Indian Paint Brush, as a way of commemorating their time in Colorado this summer. But I can’t see myself doing this. Part of this is because I don’t like the permanence of a tattoo (I have a hard enough time deciding which stickers to put on my journals!).

Even more so, I’m convinced that a tattoo just couldn’t do the Indian Paint Brush justice.

Or really any other flower, for that matter.

Photographs can capture a little more of the color and context. But still not everything.

Gathering up a hand-picked bouquet would be better still (though illegal, I’m pretty sure). However, even at that, the colors would only last for a day or two. And there’s something about the mountains and meadows around the flowers that make the flowers that much more beautiful.

So, I settle for trying to soak up the beauty in my soul. In my prayers. In my worship.

Isaiah 40:8 says, “The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever.”

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, ”God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”

There’s something, though, in this worship through wildflowers that gives me glimpses of God’s eternal goodness, through temporary times of blossoming.

Ecclesiastes 3:12 (the verse immediately following the last one I quoted) says, ”There is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can.”

So, I’m going to enjoy these wildflowers while I can.

Isn’t this a worthy quest? A reasonable act of worship?

It is a blessing and a privilege to walk with God. It’s not always the proverbial ”bed of roses,” but when it is — I sure am thankful.