Augustine was an early church father who was the bishop of Hippo in the late fourth to early fifth century. His work is foundational to our understanding of western theology and to the development of Christianity in the western world. He was a very interesting character who lived a life of depravity apart from God for some time, even following Manichaeism, until he eventually had an epiphany that led him to God. That is clearly a very watered-down retelling of his biography, but it hits the main points. One of his most personal works is Confessions, in which he writes a very long and personal prayer to God. In it, he recalls his life, he muses on the comparison between the way a child grows and the way a Christian develops, writes about his own struggles with sin and how they relate to the world, and his own philosophy and theology. It’s quite the work that is presented not only as a prayer to God, but it also takes the feel of a personal memoir. That’s the real appeal of his work. Augustine is so honest and open that you really get a good look into his head and how he thinks.

It’s a difficult work to get through, and even though I am not finished with it yet, I can highly recommend it to anyone wanting to explore their faith a bit further. The way that Augustine writes and presents his ideas is both profound and humble. So far, there have been moments where I’ve had to hold on while Augustine took me for a bit of a ride through some of his deeper and stranger thoughts, such as his elucidations on memory, but overall it’s not too difficult to chew through. Even so, Augustine provides some of the most beautiful and theologically loaded prose I’ve ever encountered. It puts the works of contemporary musical artists to shame. In fact, one of his poems is the inspiration for this very blog post. It’s simply too good not to share.

A bit of setup is required before diving in. Augustine lived in the Roman Empire, and there was a large variety of beliefs and spiritual ideas flourishing at the time. Chief among them was the worship of certain parts of creation as divine. Augustine has been pulling on this thread for some time now and has been unraveling these beliefs. He eventually lands on this idea that these people are almost correct, but they are foolishly falling short of the real divinity present in creation. The things in creation are only divine in so much as they reflect who God is. They haven’t quite ran it up the ladder far enough to meet with the one whose divinity those things reflect, God. Instead, they settle for a divinity that is less than, which is found in creation. As majestic as a sunrise is, it’s only majestic because it was created that way by God. This is the argument that Augustine makes in this next poem.

And what is this?

I put my question to the earth, and it replied, “I am not he”;

I questioned everything it held, and they confessed the same.

I questioned the sea and the great deep,

and the teeming live creatures that crawl, and they replied,

“We are not God; seek higher.”

I questioned the gusty winds,

and every breeze with all its flying creatures told me,

“Anaximenes was wrong: I am not God.”

To the sky I put my question, to sun, moon, stars,

but they denied me: “We are not the God you seek.”

And to all things which stood around the portals of my flesh I said,

“Tell me of my God.

You are not he, but tell me something of him.”

Then they lifted up their mighty voices and cried,

 “He made us.”

My questioning was my attentive spirit,

and their reply, their beauty. [1]

When I first read this poem, it sent chills up my spine. Especially when Augustine mentions that all creation “lifted up their mighty voices and cried, ‘He made us.’” That made my hair stand on end. It’s such a powerful and poignant thought that truly all creation amplifies the glory of God. In all the glory and praise, we also shouldn’t lose the very pointed attack that Augustine is also making here. For all those who worship and praise the things of this creation, you’re not looking high enough. These things pale in comparison to the glory of the one who made them.

It’s such a simple idea, and yet it’s one that people all throughout history have struggled to practice. We see the Israelites fall time and again as they slip deeper into worshiping created things. Religions the world over revere things of creation rather than an all-mighty creator. Our history is speckled with the remnants of those who practiced creation worship. We would be remiss, though, to think ourselves better than those who came before. It would be foolishness of the highest order to assume that we have grown past this incessant desire for creation worship. It’s still with us today. It’s part of who we are. It’s our culture. Just because we don’t place things in temples and shrines doesn’t mean we don’t still follow the same patterns of creation worship as those who came before us. We worship celebrities and plaster their likeness all over our culture. We worship money through reckless greed. We worship ideologies and thoughts created by men and sin against each other and God in defense of them. We worship our children, spouses, and friends by placing their wants and needs above God’s desires. I think about all the things in my own life that I am tempted, and if I’m honest sometimes bow to, that are nothing but vain creations. Augustine’s poem serves not only as a reminder of the glory of our creator, but also of the wretchedness of my own heart. If we are to break free from our pattern of creation worship, then we must always remind ourselves that the things we often worship all cry out, “He made us.”

[1] Rotelle, The Confessions, Part I Saint Augustine, 1:242–43.