The Mercy Of Gnats (and Other Outdoor Discomforts)

My 12-year-old daughter and I were camping along Pennsylvania’s Youghiogheny River. Looking downstream, we watched the sun setting behind a mountain—leaving in its wake a glorious array of pastel-colored clouds.

The colors were exquisite, the temperature pleasant. With my sweet, ponytailed girl by my side, everything was heavenly. Then gnats arrived. With a gnat in her eye, my daughter groaned, “Dad, why did God create gnats?”

As I swatted the swarm around my face and thought about her question, I began to wonder if God ordains inconveniences to remind us that this world is not our home.

Beauty and Discomfort

The glorious sunset in such pleasant circumstances tempted us to seek heavenly paradise from this earthly moment. But the gnat in my daughter’s eye reminded us this earthly moment cannot bear the weight of our idolatrous expectations.

The gnat reminded us this earthly moment cannot bear the weight of our idolatrous expectations.

The heavens were declaring the glory of God, but we needed the grace of gnats to reorient our desires. Our experience of enjoyment under God’s skies wasn’t perfect. And that was a good thing. We needed the sanctifying discomfort of the outdoors (bugs, in our case) to provoke biblical meditation and conversation that produced praise and enjoyment of God himself.

We lingered there with the lovely fading colors—and, yes, the gnats—but also with grateful hearts, memorable conversation, and a fresh perspective. The sunset and gnats, beauty and discomfort, combined to enrich our fellowship and direct our hearts heavenward.

Illusion of Control

Modern conveniences and technologies often fool us into thinking we can make this world heaven. We attempt to build our little kingdoms of comforts and pleasures, thinking we’re in control. Are we all that different from ancient Egyptian pharaohs?

Egypt was the wealthiest nation-state at that time. God used Moses and the plagues not only to rescue his people from their bondage in Egypt but also to call Pharaoh to repent of his idolatrous, earthly kingdom ambitions. One of the earliest plagues God inflicted was gnats. This was the first plague the Egyptian magicians couldn’t reproduce themselves, so they rightly ascribed the gnats’ presence to God’s power. The insects broke the Egyptians’ illusion of control. Yet Pharaoh didn’t relent, stubbornly clinging to his deluded sense of power.

Like Pharaoh, we often need God’s mercy to break us from our self-deceptive belief that we’re in control. We need his mighty hand to confront our idolatrous love of the world’s lesser glories.

There’s a great hymn called “Jesus, Lord of Life and Glory” that pleads for such mercy—which we need in both bad times and good:

From the depth of nature’s blindness,
from the hard’ning pow’r of sin,
from all malice and unkindness,
from the pride that lurks within . . .

When the world around is smiling,
in the time of wealth and ease,
earthly joys our hearts beguiling,
in the day of health and peace.

By thy mercy, O deliver us, good Lord.

I’ve never used the word “beguiling” in conversation. But what a perfect word for the human tendency to be deceived by worldly beauty, comfort, and convenience. The pleasures of God’s creation—while certainly gifts to be enjoyed with gratitude—can trick our hearts to seek heaven on earth.

It isn’t hard to see why comfort and convenience so easily dupe us. When the inconvenient thunderstorm approaches, we escape to cars and houses. Screened-in porches shield us from bugs. Climate-controlled homes and workplaces help us beat the heat. Does the ease of escaping the unpleasant aspects of creation tempt us to avoid the grace of their sanctifying discomfort? I think so. But these summer months are an opportunity to embrace outdoor discomforts and annoyances with a transformed perspective.

Embrace Nature’s Discomfort

This June, about a dozen of our church members showed up for an evening mountain hike and Bible study, even in the rain. By the trail’s end, we were soaked and chilled. It was encouraging to hear someone exclaim, “It’s good for us to experience a little adversity.”

The group’s reward was more than just the myriad of mountain laurel in full bloom—a stunning sea of white and pink blossoms blanketing the forest. The greatest treasure was our mutual pressing on to know the Lord more deeply amid discomfort. Hosea 6:3 says, “Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD . . . he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.”

Outdoor adversity comes in many forms—sometimes merely annoying, other times outright dangerous. After years of whitewater guiding, I rafted West Virginia’s Upper Gauley River, the biggest whitewater on the East Coast. My friends and I bantered beforehand about conquering the rapids. Yet unexpectedly, the earliest Class V rapid, named Insignificant, brought me face to face with mortality.

Hitting a wave at the top of the rapid propelled me out of the boat and left me at the river’s mercy. Swimming in panic and gasping for air in the turbulent waters was terrifying. My friends rescued me at the rapid’s end. All bravado had evaporated; excitement turned to dread for the remainder of the trip. The dangers of whitewater caught my attention that day. I experienced my helplessness and God’s merciful hand amid nature’s forceful power.

I marvel at how something as seemingly insignificant as gnats could bring an empire to its knees, and how a rapid named Insignificant so quickly broke years of whitewater confidence.

God-Ordained Outdoor Annoyances

This season of pleasant weather, summer to early fall, can easily beguile us. Beach vacations, weekends at the lake, idyllic picnics, ice cream stands, sporting events, and other earthly joys may tempt us to prioritize worldly pleasure above God’s glorious kingdom purposes.

The pleasures of God’s creation—while certainly gifts to be enjoyed with gratitude—can trick our hearts to seek heaven on earth.

Thank God for eye-seeking gnats and dangerous whitewater rapids, stifling humidity and scorching heat, untimely thunder and lightning storms, pelting rain and mud-filled hiking shoes to expose our disordered desires. These unpleasant (and sometimes terrifying and deadly) moments outdoors can be God-ordained opportunities for fruitful reflection. They break our false sense of control and confront our idolatrous desire for paradise in the now. They point our hearts heavenward, to the paradise to come.