Something Beautiful
Beauty, as the saying goes, is in the eye of the beholder. It’s hard to deny that different people find different things beautiful. My family and I lived in England for a couple of years, and on several occasions, the locals we met would ask with astonishment, “Why would you leave such a beautiful place as Canada to live here?” In those years, we explored a lot of the United Kingdom and were astounded by the natural beauty and diversity of the geography (to say nothing about the man-made beauty of the architecture and art in the UK). We have had a similar experience since moving to Phoenix two years ago. Why would we leave the lush, rugged, and color-filled beauty of Canada to live in the bleakness and blandness of the Arizona desert? Again, that’s a surprising question. I have never hiked as much as I do now, experiencing amazing panoramas of the city and surrounding landscape. I have never witnessed so many incredible sunsets as I have in the last 24 months. The silent mountains surrounding The Valley never fail to capture my attention as I’m driving here and there. The desert holds a mystery and beauty that has not failed (yet) to fill me with wonder and awe.
What does that say about beauty being in the eye of the beholder? Maybe it suggests that our eyes have a way of being conditioned to overlook, ignore, and even block out beauty that is already all around us. What is it that prevents us from beholding the beauty closest to us? Surely familiarity, busyness and distraction are keeping the beauty around us from our focus. Maybe it’s a powerful and alluring script that our culture is rehearsing to us, filtering what we see: “That is not beauty; this is real beauty.” Maybe it’s our own difficult or painful circumstances that don’t allow us the time and attention needed to see beauty. Maybe our unhealthy sense of self gives us eyes only for brokenness and darkens our eyes so that we cannot see anything beautiful. The reasons may be many.
Those challenges are real. They are in part a result of sin—an alien force unleashed in the world that only wants to kill, to destroy, to strangle out truth, goodness…and yes beauty. The great North African theologian Augustine wrote a phrase in Latin that captures in a vivid image what sin does to us. Sin, according to Augustine, is “homo incurvatus in se”: “the human being curved in on itself.” Imagine sin as this force that disfigures us such that we are physically curved in on ourselves. We can neither behold the beauty, glory, and loving kindness of God nor can we behold the beauty that is all around us. Our eyes are shut to what is all around us, including beauty.
Humans are image-bearers of God. We reflect the beautiful God who dwells in glorious and unapproachable light, we are made in the likeness of our beautiful Savior, and we bear the image of the Spirit who is the source of life and light and the instrument of God’s artistry in the creation. How then do we push against and abandon this diminished curved-in life, looking up and looking out as divine image-bearers? There may be many ways to do this but let me suggest three.
First, behold our God beholding beauty. Before the world was distorted by sin, unstained beauty characterized the world. In Genesis 1, there is an unmistakable rhythm where God (1) creates something, (2) sees/beholds it, and (3) declares it good/tov. The Hebrew word tov is very rich and its sense includes (though is not limited to) “beautiful.” So part of what God is communicating when he creates light, land, sky, and air, sun, moon and stars, all the creatures, plants and humans is that they are all beautiful. Jesus was attentive to the created world, observing growing cycles, fields, birds, fish, and flowers—he explicitly identifies the surpassing beauty of the lilies of the field. Moreover, in the people and places that his culture deemed ugly and dirty he saw beauty and goodness. We need to renounce the lie of the curved-in perspective—counterfeit beauty on offer from glowing screens and magazines. Beholding the world as Creator and Savior see it, we may find ourselves declaring “it is [still] beautiful/tov” despite the places of brokenness.
Second, exercise your capacity to see beauty. The story of our sister Kristin Tovar in Tucson demonstrates that it is possible to (re)condition yourself to see the world differently. Finding herself in a place she didn’t love or think was particularly beautiful, she committed to a practice of deliberately searching out beauty (through the lens of her camera). This became a formative practice that changed her perspective and kindled in her a deep affection for the place she was. Kristin writes:
“When we know certain external circumstances in a part of life are fixed, it allows us to surrender to what is…The gift is that I can always choose a life-giving perspective no matter where I am and where I go. There is always beauty to celebrate. There is a gift in each moment waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed by whoever will choose to pause and delight in it.
Make no mistake, sin which loves to spread darkness and ugliness is a powerful force. Of course, the Holy Spirit brings life and light, but once the Spirit takes hold in our lives it requires commitment and fellow travelers to change our perspective. Kristin’s personal journey to find beauty not only helped her to love her place but has spawned a movement of people seeking to love where they live and find the beauty around them. What are the practices in your life that will help you resist that tendency to curve in, that will help cultivate attentiveness, awe, and wonder at the beauty that is already all around us? Perhaps it could start with a bedtime prayer: identify one beautiful thing we experienced over the course of the day and thanking God for it. What other ways can you cultivate a beauty-seeking perspective?
Third, “do something beautiful for God.” This is Mother Teresa’s phrase and what motivated her life of service. Two things are curious about this. (1) Her life’s work was in a seemingly God-forsaken place (the slums of Calcutta) and in service to seemingly God-forsaken people (the poor and destitute of that place). (2) Her memoirs reveal that for extended periods of her life of service she experienced the silence and absence of God. In a place of darkness and ugliness, Mother Teresa and her sisters made an unswerving commitment to do something beautiful in the world and thus be something beautiful in the world for the destitute. When it’s difficult to see beauty, we can be the source of beautiful things for others and spread beauty in that way.
Beauty is all around us, waiting for us to behold it. We pray you experience the beauty of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the beauty of his world that is broken but is being restored, and the beauty of humanity, the bearers of God’s image. Amen.
Dave Beldman
Surge Network Scholar in Residence
Professor of Old Testament at the Missional Training Center
