Most mornings, I walk up the mountain that is right behind our house. Now, there’s no “mountain-climbing” here. I’m not using ropes and climbing shoes and special gear. Nope, it is just me and the two Basset Hounds, Dixie and Belle, the wonder dogs, walking up a street behind my house. But there’s a pretty good incline to it and when you get to the top there’s a great view of the north Georgia mountains, so as far as I’m concerned, I’m climbing a mountain. I wish that it had a name, like Foster Mountain, or something classic like that, but I don’t know that it does, or if it does, I don’t know what it is. In reality, I’m just walking up Highland Road, but it would sound so much better if could say that I walk up Foster Mountain every morning.

The walk gives me some good exercise—even though it is just a street, it is still a mountain. It gives me time to pray and commit my day and my friends and family to the Lord’s care. But it also gives me time to breathe some fresh air (I spend the better part of my days at my desk on the computer or on the phone, if I’m not on the road) and take in the beauties of creation. I enjoy seeing the beauty of the mountains this time of year when there are no leaves on the trees. But I also look forward to the coming of spring and watching the buds start to form on the trees and watching the Rhododendron and the Mountain Laurel bloom. I enjoy it when I can see a turkey roosting in the top of a tree or turn a corner to see a rabbit or a fox on the side of the road. And of course fall is when God takes out his paint brush and doesn’t hold back with the reds and the yellows and the golds.

It is a privilege to see the beauty of creation, whether here in north Georgia or along some coastline. The intricacies of nature should never cease to amaze us. At the same time, however, we must never allow ourselves to become more enamored with Creation than we are with Redemption. You see, those are the two main ways that God relates to his world, as Creator and as Redeemer. He created all of nature. But then, with the sin of Adam, all of nature has fallen. That first sin didn’t simply affect the souls of Adam and Eve and all of their children after them. It affected all of creation, and as punishment for that first sin, God cursed the ground. The Apostle Paul tells us this in Romans 8, that “creation was subjected to futility,” that it is groaning, waiting with eager longing for the Day when all things will be made new. Because creation is fallen, then it needs to be redeemed. And God has promised to do that through the work of his dear Son, Jesus, through his perfect life and his sacrificial death.

But we must be more captivated by redemption than with creation. It would be too easy for me to take my walk in the morning and take in the beauties of the mountains, but stop there. If I stop at Creation then I haven’t gone far enough. You see, to stop at Creation could easily allow me to think of God as some far-away, distant sovereign, who created all things, but now simply sits on his throne and watches everything take place, uninvolved and detached. To focus only on Creation tempts me to focus on God, but to forget about Jesus. And we can’t forget about Jesus.

You see, it is easier to focus on Creation, but much harder to focus on Redemption. Creation, as it were, doesn’t require much of me, at least at first glance. But Redemption requires me to look in the mirror. Redemption requires that I admit my need, my inability to meet God’s requirements, my flaws and failures. Now, that is not a bad thing at all. Looking at our neediness is the only thing that invites the grace of God. We only experience God’s great love and forgiveness by looking at our need. But we don’t really like to do that. We would rather just walk up Foster Mountain and take in the beauty of nature.

But in the end, we must be more taken by Redemption than with Creation. We must be more amazed that God would love and forgive us, that Jesus would leave heaven and die for us, that the Holy Spirit has promised to develop godly character in us than we are at the birds and the trees and the mountains and the seashore. Creation is beautiful (because the Creator is beautiful), but it can’t save you from your sins. Only the cross can do that. Only Redemption can do that. And there is nothing more captivating, nothing more life-giving, nothing more beautiful than Jesus, not even the birds or the trees or the mountains or the seashore.

If all of this is true—and I believe that it is—then that tells me this. If the heavens and the earth are beautiful, then the new heavens and the new earth will be even more so. As beautiful as these mountains are when I see them each morning, they are still fallen. They still bear the marks of Adam’s sin. But because of Redemption, because of the perfect life and sacrificial death of Jesus, the Redeemer, there will come a day when these mountains will be made new, better, when all of Creation will be redeemed.

Let’s not be satisfied with Creation. It wasn’t meant to satisfy. It was meant to point us to Redemption and to the Redeemer. The new heavens and the new earth are coming. The best is yet to come.