It is good for us to view God’s creation as a work of art. Throughout the first chapter of Genesis, we repeatedly see God pause to appreciate the goodness of what He makes. Implicit here is the pleasure God takes in beauty. He is the original artist, the creator of creativity.

I wish to review His work in Yellowstone not in any vain effort to encapsulate all the glory He implanted there, nor do I wish to--God forbid--critique His work as if it could be improved upon. Instead, this review is a reflection of my blessed time there; it is me dwelling from afar in my favorite place on earth, a praise of a beautiful thing pointing to an even more beautiful person.

I must preface this review with a quote from Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia; when Susan asks if Aslan, the Great Lion and Christ-figure of the story, is “safe,” Beaver replies, “Safe?....Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. Be he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” This description of our Artist is an appropriate frame of reference as we examine Yellowstone. If you visit this place, you are not in for a routine ‘walk in the park.’ People die in this so-called ‘park.’ This duality of good and dangerous is the most prominent feature of our Artist revealed in this particular work.

Larger than Rhode Island and Delaware combined, this sprawling chunk of Wyoming (the park also touches bits of Montana and Idaho) has 5 road entrances. Regardless of which entrance one uses, it’s impossible to escape the serious grandeur of the place. The small word ‘big’ comes to mind. The lakes, bison, mountains, trees, and rivers are simply big. The Grand Prismatic Spring is a massive pool of divine technicolor; adorned by rainbow-colored rings and brimming with microbes, this acidic pool pours a steady cloud of vapor into the heavens. The only way to view the pool is by walking a narrow boardwalk built carefully atop the earth’s dangerously thin crust surrounding the pool.

Hulking grizzly bears roam the park with their cubs, constantly looking for ways to bulk up for winter hibernation. They are adorable from afar, but less so in proximity.

Nearly 10,000 feet above sea level sits a 34x45 mile caldera, or mouth, to Yellowstone’s most ominous geological marvel. The supervolcano, overdue for an eruption, reminds us of our own inescapable fragility. Such a violent natural truth reflects His impending wrath, and conjures up imagery of literal lakes of fire.

Whole swaths of forests are littered with downed pines, scorched black and still shedding cindery chunks from the 1988 fire. Contrary to human instinct, the natural wildfires are necessary for the park’s ecological health. Fires here are frightening, appearing as infernal columns spread rapidly by whipping winds. They actually assist in soil health by speeding up wood decay, thus sustaining the trees that survive with necessary nutrients. This counterintuitive process symbolizes, at least in my mind, themes of sanctification. The way God renovates our lives involves stages of demolition that feel painful, confusing, and even cruel. Sometimes, we cannot see the good work He’s doing until the storm has passed.

Over 3 million tourists from around the globe visit Yellowstone annually. Awestruck worshippers, whether they know the Lord or not, come to gaze at geysers, ascend mountains, and cliff jump into deep rivers. They are blessed by God’s common grace, beneficiaries of nature’s beauty despite suppressing the truth of its author (Romans 1:20). That any of us can look upon such glorious work while remaining in a depraved state of rebellion against Him speaks only to His remarkable patience and precious grace. Under the sovereign hand of this grace do millions explore Yellowstone each year.

Sling a hammock around a couple trees on the shores of Heart Lake. Wake up at dawn and climb past groves of wildflowers, leap across heaping boulders, and overcome 2,300 feet to the summit of Mt. Sheridan. There you can make sense of the lake’s namesake: water stretches outward into two wet lobes and meet at a point that gestures toward the base of the mountain. This misshapen heart probably looks more like the actual cardiac muscles that carried us to the peak than the cartoonish renderings seen in pop culture. Catch whatever breath you can find at this altitude as you consider the tender heart of God in the midst of such a rugged, seemingly volatile terrain. Swim in the unfailing love of the Father, but not literally as the lake is frigid year-round.

The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone must be the majestic climax of this review, as it is the most dramatic landscape in the entire park. Perched atop the precipice at Artist Point, one can hardly accept the sight before them as anything other than a large painting with no edges. A mere photo of this vast canyon is worthy of praise--how much more the thing itself? Dreadfully steep cliffs, painted gold and dotted with dark green lodgepole pines, barrel downward to the raging Yellowstone River. In 1870, explorer Nathaniel P. Langford wrote this:

Based on the quote, it is unclear if Langford was aware that he had a brush encounter with the majesty of God Almighty, though I suspect he did. The adjectives “thrilling” and “stunning” are just marks on the page to those who have not been. To attempt further written description of this place is vanity; I lack the ability to construct a sentence that will even approach doing the visual masterpiece justice.

The Old Faithful eruption reminds us that the Lord is an all satisfying source of joy and life (Psalm 36:9, 87:7). The same fountain, undrinkable and boiling hot as it furiously gushes heavenward, reminds us in a general way of God’s just wrath against sin, and the calamity of this place that was meant to be paradise. That these contrasting interpretations of Old Faithful exist speaks to the dynamic layers of meaning and rich revelation of God’s infinite character.

One of God’s purposes in creating complex works of art like Yellowstone is to invite us to know Him better, to enjoy Him more deeply. Through this park, we gain a general sense of our smallness and His bigness. These realizations of truth are what theologians call “general revelation,” or learning about God through what has been physically created. There are truths of God we cannot learn through general revelation, which is why God has provided Scripture, or “special revelation.” In this special revelation, the precious words of God, we find a solution to the dreadful chasm between our tiny, helpless selves, and that Unnamable Force of Grand Holiness only alluded to in nature. We find subtle symbols of the gospel illustrated in Yellowstone, but we find the specific details graciously spelled out in the Bible. It is here that we find Christ; He who is responsible for this transcendentally excellent art:

Original Photography by Cody Schweickert.

Forefront is committed to fostering a robust conversation on the intersection of Christian faith and the arts by publishing a wide range of voices and opinions. The views expressed here reflect those of the author.