For the last few days, walking outside has been a kind of therapy. Crisp air and sylvan fireworks have conspired to make life seem better. My Theology 1 professor likes to refer to natural beauty as "the Christian cocaine," and I see where he's coming from. Creation is addictive. It's also transportive. If you look too closely at the beauty surrounding you, you may lose track of where you are, start thinking you're someplace better. Truth is, you might just regain your bearings long enough to remember where you really are.
On days like this, I go outdoors and see "theology" unpackaged before my eyes:
By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can't see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being (Romans 1:20, The Message).
A red-leafed tree can make the thought of True Reality flare to life. I enter Autumn, and wish for the "undiscovered country." Creation rewires my mind, if only for a moment, and I thank God for how his scenery sends us.