Let the Sunflower Speak
Beauty and Design in Creation Can Witness to Our Soul... and Our Mental Health
I can think of moments in nature that instantly pull my soul into awe—feet in the sand as waves crash, the hush of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the golden light before a storm. Or the simple wonder of watching your child, or a breeze that brushes your face just right. In photography, I used to tell my students: “Some things are too full of wonder to capture.”
God builds things with purpose, beauty, and balance. That includes you, and that includes nature. I want to attempt to explain how we are designed by God to notice such things and how creation invites us into a kind of quiet, healing worship.
We live in a world where anxiety, depression, burnout, and emotional heaviness touch almost everyone. Even believers can feel the crushing weight of fear, shame, or despair. But what if something as simple as a sunflower could speak peace into that chaos?
This is where the teleological argument comes into focus. In apologetics, this argument observes that the universe is filled with complex, purposeful, and intricate designs—so much so that it points toward a deliberate Designer. The word “teleological” comes from the Greek telos, meaning “end” or “purpose.” In short, the teleological argument says that design points to a Designer, and the order and efficiency we see in nature are not random—they’re intentional.
And this makes the sunflower a masterpiece of such intention.
At the core of the sunflower is a striking example of the Fibonacci sequence—a mathematical pattern where each number is the sum of the two before it (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, ...). The seeds of the sunflower spiral out in both clockwise and counterclockwise directions, perfectly aligned with this sequence. Why? Because this specific arrangement allows the seeds to be packed most efficiently, maximizing space, sunlight exposure, and nutrient absorption. No wasted room. No chaos. Just optimized beauty and function.
“For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.” — 1 Corinthians 14:33
When our thoughts spiral, we often feel like our lives are out of control. But God's creation speaks differently. It says, “There is a pattern. There is a purpose. Even when you can't see it.” And sunflowers aren’t alone. This same golden ratio shows up in pinecones, seashells, spiral galaxies, and even in the orbital paths of planets and moons. All of creation is stitched together by the thread of order, beauty, and intelligence.
This is not randomness. The apostle Paul writes in Romans 8:19–22 that "creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed... the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time." Mental and emotional pain is part of this groaning. But just as creation groans with hope, so can we. Biblical mental health doesn’t deny struggle, in fact, it acknowledges it with honesty, while anchoring us in the hope of redemption, healing, and renewal. God isn’t indifferent to our suffering. He's woven reminders of peace into the very world around us.
Hurricanes still come, ecosystems are disrupted, and flowers eventually wither. But here’s the miracle: even in its groaning, creation is still preaching. It’s still witnessing. The sunflower, in all its mathematical brilliance, speaks to the fingerprints of its Maker in a world where decay exists.
It’s as if creation is saying, “I was made for more and so were you.”
This is where art and theology converge. What God has designed in the natural world is not only functional; it is profoundly beautiful. The sunflower is both efficient and artistic. It’s not just “doing its job”; it’s putting on a show. Its form reflects divine elegance, much like a painting reflects the hand of the artist. Modern therapists often encourage people to ground themselves by focusing on their senses: touch, sight, and sound. Interestingly, Scripture tells us that creation itself is meant to draw our attention to God's presence:
“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” — Psalm 19:1
This natural artistry invites us into a deeper kind of worship through observation and awe. And if something as small as a sunflower carries such intricate order and beauty, how much more are you, who are made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27)?
The next time you walk past any piece of creation—pause.
Let it remind you that design points to a Designer.
Let it echo the truth of Romans 8: that creation is not silent.
Let it lift your eyes beyond the visible, into the invisible wonders of God.
The silent sermon of the sunflower is not so silent after all. It’s whispering, even shouting, “There is a God. He is wise. He is good. And He has not left Himself without witness.”
Reference
New International Bible. (2011). Zondervan. (Original work published 1978).
