Years ago, when I came out of a time of grieving, I felt as though I had finally awakened from a long slumber. Gradually, my eyes were opened to beauty and I saw it everywhere: in my home, in my baby girl’s face, in art, creation, music, words. It had been there all along but I didn’t see it, didn’t fully appreciate it. And it was my loss.
Beauty doesn’t create itself. What I saw and experienced moved me to praise and thank the Creator. I worship the Creator of beauty, not beauty itself. I worship God, not the sunrise or mountains or flowers He made. Not the painting or the painter, the music or musician, but the One who made them possible. As CS Lewis noted, beauty is not the absolute. It points beyond itself. When I point at something, you don’t look at my finger for very long; you look to see where I am pointing. Beauty points us to God.
To me, that God would give us beauty is amazing and humbling. Why would He do that? I believe God loves us. I believe He loves beauty. I believe He is beauty, and He has lavished it upon us with joy and abandon. Do you see it?
Where?
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