Beauty

With the closing of yet another year, I am reaching into my bag of memories - that collection of experiences God gave to me and began or continued working in me over this fleeting time period.

Today I was reading through my journal, (not my diary, mind you) reflecting on what ran through my brain at the time of my entries, and I decided to post a few of them this holiday season for whoever to gain whatever out of them.

The one I'm posting today is called Beauty and I'm sharing this one today because of how it spoke to me; dipping deep into my heart and touching something tender.


My dear Journal,

March 29, 2008

I have always been an admirer and student of beauty. Beauty captures, enlightens, fulfills and delights me. I find beauty everywhere; easy beauty, that is.

I find it in things as lavish as the ripe colors of a winter sunset and the deepness of a medieval painting portraying a tall knight in silver, glowing armour kneeling before a fair lady with golden hair, clad in the purest white.

I find this beauty in the simplest of things like painted daisies on my sister's toenails, wildflowers in an open field, or the bright, pure, smile of a child.

I find beauty in things as rare as a colorful, strutting peacock, who seems to look down, instead of up, at the entire universe. I find it in the incredible architecture built around the world and in the unusual opportunity of watching two people unconsciously fall in love.

And of course, I delight in the beauty of the common; those things that are all around us, every day, there to reach out and receive joy from. The eyes of a striking gentleman, an uncommonly pretty girl, beautiful gowns that ravish the heart, bouquets of roses, timeless musical pieces, the elegance of a quite, country dance, a field of tall, enveloping grass swaying to the tune of the wind, the smile shared between a husband and a wife, silver-haired, but still madly in love - these things that aren't so uncommon, after all.

But in my attempt to culture this taste for beauty, I fear I have become only more inclined towards easy beauty; the kind of beauty that is evident to everyone, the kind that is striking, no doubt. But is it satisfying? Do we ever get enough of this kind?

I am quick to spot the pretty girl over the plain; the graceful man over the clumsy. My taste for elegance (and my intense desire to see such surrounding me everywhere and always) often overcomes the good sense which I know should determine how I see the world. This "taste" is not really taste at all. It isn't talent. It's not being well-bred. It's being what everyone else can be - human.

Something is telling me that my eye for easy, obvious beauty fades away the many opportunities I have of seeing beauty in the most unobserved places - the rarest of kinds, only found after a strong desire and a deliberate quest for it. So my easy beauty had better be called, "lazy beauty".

Like beauty, everyone sees and observes rainstorms, but it takes true taste, true talent, true heart, true compassion to notice the raindrops. And it requires so much more in this extraordinary person to study, bring out, and highlight the tiny drops of water, of which all rainstorms are made. Perhaps, just maybe, these tiny drops of water can teach us far more than the most spectacular rainstorms.

Maybe they will remind us that, after all, some of life's greatest gifts are wrapped in the smallest, most obscure packages. And perhaps we'll begin to understand the many dimensions of beauty; discovering that the deepest ones are the hardest and most unusual to find.

And maybe we'll remember that we're not the Creator, that we do not think like Him, and that we should not be taking lessons from our own books of human wisdom to define what is truly beautiful.

Let me see and study the splendor of beauty forever, praising the great Creator of it, lest I grow dull and lifeless, without a heart of joy; without a heart of gratefulness. May I never grow unperceptive to any kind of beauty, because yes, it is everywhere.

Once I am blind to it, I am blind to all. ~

Redemption

“Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here." - Marianne Williamson


Transparency.

Unfortunately it's a word that is rarely used in reference to human relationships.

Somehow it's strange. Somehow it's uncomfortable. For some reason, hardly anyone practices it.

Well...she's a bit different. She wears dark clothes and dark makeup, and her straightened hair falls over who knows what kind of eyes she has.

She slouches against the doorway of a room buzzing with life and activity, like a wallflower afraid to be one.

Her attitude speaks louder than her words.

But wait. She hasn't spoken yet. We haven't allowed her to.

Finally, someone chooses to single her out in the crowd. She extends a hand, and the long hair falls back from her face, revealing the bluest, deepest eyes.

Ten bracelets line her arm, but her grasp is the kindest we've ever felt. She speaks, and authenticity rings through her voice and says more than her words do.

She is a deep river, found beneath the rocky landscape of the world. But she's afraid and she's clinging to the image of someone she's not.


He's all put together on the outside; suit, tie, hair - straight from a magazine.


He steps into his office with firmness and presents business plans that are stamped with confidence.


His eyes laugh, dancing from the reflection of all and any light. But if we look closely, do we see fear lurking behind them?


He smiles at his colleagues, but underneath the suit, underneath the smile and underneath the confidence, he's kicking and screaming, finished with happiness and tired of life.


If we didn't read past his firm handshake and his measured pace, we'd never really know him. And he would never be able to change.



Why is that we go to church every Sunday and never really know our fellow church-goers - even the one sitting next to us?

Why are we bound by fear, afraid to be ourselves in an open, honest way? Why do we grab an image and cling to it, portraying it as the real revelation of ourselves when it is just a mask, a cover-up for the real person inside?

Why is it that an entire world is content with passing each other every day, living and working with each other and continually dwelling with each other on a level of superficiality?

No one wants to open up. No one wants to be rejected. And that's understandable.

Everyone wants to be understood, but there seems to be a rarity of understanding people just now. That explains why there's a startling abundance of hurting ones.

There is something that our world needs more than televangelists, tracts, radio programs, and churches, believe it or not.

Transparent people. Understanding hearts.

Someone once said, "If you can teach a heart to trust you, you can teach it anything." So true. I suppose the opposite must also be true. If you can't teach a heart to trust you, you can't teach it anything.

Ouch.

I am guilty of doing this so many times. Trying to teach when I should be listening. Trying to keep my image together when I should be throwing it down, revealing exactly the kind of person I really am. Trying to get compassion when I should be giving it.

I worry about the salvation of the world and forget about the unsaved in my own family. I am concerned about the people in my city not having anyone to truly know them, and I never bother to really know my best friend. I am so often focused on the outward; that shallow image, and never think to dwell on the heart.

I am charged with hypocrisy by my own conscience and the whispering of a small voice deep inside me.

I tell the world its faults, and neglect to reveal my own. I do my best to cover my sinful tracks, and my utmost to discover others.

And just when I think I am deep, I am beyond all others the most shallow. I can hide my heart the best.

Change comes when we find in ourselves in need of a Saviour.

It shows itself to the world when we reveal our sinful hearts to the heart next to us, revealing ourselves as real people, with real problems and hurt, as well as real hearts.

Hope never whispers its arrival. When it speaks, it is loud and victorious. It opens up its gates and pours out blessings. It tells the world who is its Master and why they are loved. It gives purpose to souls, throwing open doors of opportunity for the kingdom of God.

Its reach is unfathomable. Its effect is utterly indescribable. And it's here, ready for the taking, prepared for a great experience - ready to redeem. Me. You. The world.

But it begins with us. It begins in my heart, when I choose everyday to leave my mask on the shelf and put on the love of Jesus Christ. It starts when I've decided to listen instead of be heard. When I turn to the person next to me and ask how they are. When they reply, "Fine. How are you?" it begins when I look into their eyes, beyond the disguise, past the hurt, and ask, "No - how are you really?"

A revelation hits me in the form of a word, and I think I know its name.

Sometimes we call it love. Sometimes we call it hope. But it has told me its name.

We call it redemption.

And it will change the world.