Devotional Archives--A Beautiful World

July 26, 2004 —

It IS Very Good!

I fought tears as I drove to pick my daughter up from gymnastics. It seemed every time I thought things would get better something else happened that wore me down. A series of hardship and disappointments pounded me, like a hailstorm, relentless in its downpour. Now, sickness wound through our family, a never-ending cycle that left me exhausted and weak.

The dirty gray of the winter streets paralleled my mood. As I complained to the Lord about the rough world I lived in, I sensed something I couldn’t quite grasp. It was as if He were whispering something from Genesis. “And God saw all that He made and it was very good.”

Instantly, I felt a flicker of hope. Yet, even as it began to burn, it was almost snuffed out in a sea of confusion. This world—good? It went against all the teaching I’d had about the fallen world. It went against all I was experiencing in that season of struggle. Yet, I knew it had to be a whisper from the Lord because I’d felt such peace and hope at the thought.

I mulled it over as my daughter climbed in the car and it was still on my mind when we stopped at the grocery store for a last minute purchase for dinner. As we rushed through the Safeway’s wide doors in an effort to escape the cold, I suddenly halted. “Oh, look, sweetheart!” I breathed. The first display we came upon that dreary afternoon burst with sunshine. The table by the entrance was filled with vibrant yellow daffodils.

Jonquils, the smaller variety that grew near my childhood home, had always been a favorite of mine. When I moved north I planted daffodils along my front walk, reminiscent of the bright yellow patches of joy I watched for each spring as a young girl.

“Oh Lord,” I thought, “It IS very good.” I began to understand the whisper I’d felt in the car. What God created IS good. The Lord wants me to drink in the wonder of beauty He placed in this world.

Too often, I focus on the muddy streets of life—both figuratively and literally. I see gray concrete instead of freshly fallen snow. I see litter on the park grounds instead of lush green lawns.  I see the disappointments instead of the victories. Evil trampled on God’s fair world, but it cannot wipe out its goodness. God wants me to enjoy the good world He created for me.

I’m not just talking pessimism versus optimism. I’m talking about wiping away the grim of life to experience all the good God intended for us to enjoy. The enemy doesn’t want me to think about these things because they point me to my loving Creator.

God’s goodness sings from each of His creations. I see His power in the majestic mountain peaks. His gentleness drips from a soft, pink rose. The ocean roars with His vast, unfathomable Presence. His humor giggles out in a praying mantis and His loving strength wraps around me as I sit beneath the arms of a huge, leafy tree. Even a city of towering skyscrapers whose lights twinkle in a dark night shows God’s love for us—how He delights in sharing with us a piece of His creative genius and lets us experience the joy of designing and building.

I’m not sure I completely grasp all He wants me to understand about seeing His good. I know He wants me to look for Him in the people I meet. Even those who don’t know the Savior possess a piece of God’s goodness, a bit of His beauty, and a glow of His glory.

I’m on a quest to embrace the goodness—the beauty—that my Father places all around me. As I hunt for it, acknowledge it, rejoice in it, I believe I will also discover and worship Him.

Wouldn’t you know it? Those daffodils were on sale that dreary day when I discovered that God’s world really IS good. You should have seen my daughter’s face as I filled my cart with them and wheeled to the checkout counter!

*****************************************************************************************

August 2, 2004 —

Refreshed

If I close my eyes and sit quietly, I can still feel it—the peace and beauty seeping into my soul and restoring me. Camping in the mountains has long been a favorite for me and our most recent experience was no exception.

I thrilled in cuddling my youngest boy as we sat next to the campfire watching the older boys whittle on sticks they’d found. I felt pride as my oldest son chopped firewood and built fires and enjoyed the creative expression of my daughter and her friends as they designed a whole new world out of stones, moss, and flowers.

We did all the typical camping stuff—roasted hot dogs, made s’mores, and took the children fishing. The best part for me, though, was the hike.

After three years of drought, this wet summer is a welcome change and our hike through the woods was a showcase for the effects of the moisture. Lush green lined the mountain path, layered with the rainbow color of flowers.

I wish I could describe the feast my eyes experienced—the lacy whites, bold yellows, and delicate pinks and purples cascading down the mountainside. I haven’t seen wildflowers like that for at least ten years.

Something deep inside me felt nurtured and even now, several days later, I can close my eyes and re-enter that wonderland. Occasionally, along the rugged trail, the trees would part exposing hazy mountain peaks in the distance. For a while a stream ran close to our path, dancing down the incline with gurgles and giggles.

I don’t know if everyone senses God in such a setting, but when His creation bursts out around me, singing in such lavish beauty, my heart involuntarily lifts to His.

I’ve thought about this a fair amount since returning home to the city. I think I need to make times in nature a greater priority for my family and me. I know walking in that mountain forest did something—it nurtured my spirit and blessed me with peace. It assured me of God’s love and beauty.

My God is always with me, but there are certain things that help me sense His presence. For me, nature is one of those. I also find Him in quiet moments of prayer, reading, and reflection, times of singing in worship with fellow believers, and good, deep conversations.

I have friends who feel close to Him when they dance before Him and others who talk to Him when they vacuum their carpet. My son says He feels God when he plays hockey. I can’t relate to feeling God when I’m sweating and getting slammed against “the boards” but then again, the Lord didn’t wire me to play hockey!

I suppose we each find Him in different places, feel close to Him under different circumstances. I think the important thing is that we take the time to do those things that nurture our spirits.

Those amazing wildflowers are what I see when I think of our camping trip. I know they were especially prolific this year because they drank up the rain that came in abundance.

I’m reminded of another hike my husband and I took during the drought a couple of years ago. The hot, dusty trail was lined with tired, brown looking grass. The little town we visited had this message posted on church signs and bulletin boards: “Pray for rain!” Those barren mountainsides couldn’t drink. The water wasn’t available.

It’s different for us. The Living Water is always there. Sometimes we forget how thirsty we are and begin to shrivel under the cares of life. Other times, we know we’re thirsty, but just can’t seem to pull away from our busyness long enough to drink. The bloom of our life drops off the stem, leaving us barren.

We must drink when we thirst or we can’t blossom.

*****************************************************************************************

August 9, 2004 —

The Party

Enthralled, I stood wide-eyed. Renoir’s famous painting, "Luncheon of the Boating Party,” exploded with beauty and color. I could do nothing but stare. Other visitors to the Art Museum pressed around me, listening to the tour guide explain its magnificence. They moved on but I didn’t. I crept closer and sat on the floor, drinking it in until security told me I wasn’t allowed to sit there.

I‘ve never been affected quite that way by art. The joy of the masterpiece pulled me right into it. I stepped back and waited until a bench behind me cleared. Then, I sat, barely taking my eyes from the painting, and pulled out my journal.

I wrote: “Lately, God has chosen to draw me closer to Himself by tiny glimpses of His vast and penetrating beauty. There is much of me that is pragmatic, practical, hardworking, and predictable. Today I sense the longing to find inner wells of beauty, emotion, and expression that I have not yet discovered.

There's something less tangible, more fleeting, and richer in transparent beauty that I long to uncover. I don't know what I mean by transparent beauty . . . an aura of Christ maybe? His scent, His love, the music that flows around His every move?

“Yes, Christ is my rock. He is solid and foundational. He is stable and trustworthy and dependable . . .. But He is also wild . . . the essence of His beauty is tantalizing, fleeting; its breathy presence stirs a longing for more of Him and a longing for heaven.

Somehow, I want to touch His beautiful soul. I want to feel His gentle love, a whisper, a breath of fresh air stirring my own soul . . . a velvety touch on my skin, a wispy breeze across my face. There is beauty unexplored that I don't know how to find or express, but He has shown me tiny glimpses and I thirst for more. (I suspect some of the deepest beauty can only be accessed by entering into His suffering . . . too often I allow pain to shut my senses down and harden my heart instead of allowing Him to use the emotion of the pain as a window, an open door to discover His beauty.)”

As I reflected on the moment I began to understand why the Renoir affected me so. It shouted out the joy of heaven, pushed away life’s discouragements, and reminded me of what is to come. My yearning for the delights of eternity was awakened and I thought of the beauty of God.

Art critics make a big deal of the fact that “Luncheon of the Boating Party” combines three types of art: the still life, the portrait, and the landscape. They laud its composition, its brush strokes. I see something different in it. The lush fruit and sparkling beauty that bubbles in the crystal glasses of its still life, the joy of companionship in its portrait; and the mesmerizing beauty of its landscape hint of the joy of heaven.

Someday we WILL party with Jesus. The food will be spread in abundance, we’ll laugh with our loved ones, and drink in the beauty of creation untarnished. We will delight in all that is joyful, peaceable, and good.

Until then I want beauty to remind me of eternity and help me experience a whiff of God’s boundless beauty. God, in His gracious love, has placed much that is beautiful in this world. Some of it He created with His own hands and other creations He allowed man to participate in. But each act of beauty points to Him. Each beautiful thing is a celebration of what is to come. And when I delight in Him, dream of sharing eternity with Him—when I feel my heart swell as I drink in beauty, isn’t that worship?

“Jesus, I know eternity with you will be beyond my most amazing dreams. I can’t wait to experience beauty untarnished, perfect relationships that contain no pain, and all the joys You’ve planned for me. Each taste of something beautiful is a glimpse into Your magnificence. Whisper Your promise of eternity into my days and help me find You in each thing of beauty I encounter today.”

*****************************************************************************************

August 16, 2004 —

The Sad Statue

Renoir’s fabulous painting, “Luncheon of the Boating Party” stood in front of me. Behind me sat a tiny bronze statue of Renoir’s wife. The painting elicited a response of joy. But the little statue made me cry.

I couldn’t help but contrast the vibrant woman in the painting with the grief I felt emanating from the sculpture. Renoir painted “Luncheon of the Boating Party” when he was courting the woman who later became his wife. She sits front and center in the painting, her gentle, happy face full of tenderness and hope. Her nurturing heart shines forth in the way she interacts with a dog painted next to her.

The sculpture was made for her grave. It depicts Renoir’s wife as a young woman nursing their son. Instead of the awe of the hope of a new mother I sense heaviness. To me, the little statue is worn and crushed, as if she knew the pain of her future. The young, hopeful woman in the painting became a weary, sad woman in the statue—a woman who saw the wretchedness of the world and the toll it would take upon her and her child.

It seemed to speak of all the pain that was to come—the tragedy of her husband's stroke and the grief of her sons’ wounds in WW I.  I mentioned my thoughts to the women next to me. They had just been discussing the same thing. “But isn’t that what life does to you?” one of them said.

I wanted to reject the woman’s words. They seemed so hopeless. Yet, they held an element of truth. I pulled out my journal and tried to process all I was experiencing. I wrote:

“I hate what the world does to our dreams, vivacity, hopes, and tenderness. I don’t want to become hardened and despairing as life takes its swipes at me.

I want to be a mother with hope, live to become a grandmother who still sings . . . a woman who hasn't lost the charm of a joyful, loving heart. I want to be a woman who brings beauty into this harsh world. Show me how to keep the flame of hope burning from my soul. 

My mind went to a passage of scripture found in John 15:5a. “I am the vine; you are the branches.” (NIV) I scribbled in my journal:

“This morning I read that Christ is the vine and I am the branch. I can only hope to find color and beauty in this harsh world by staying connected to Christ and grasping, if only in brief moments, a whiff of His dancing heart, sweet smell, and effervescent beauty.”

Today as I reflect upon this experience I reflect as a woman who has known both the joy of fulfilled dreams and the crushing of unmet expectations. There is much in life that makes me cry and tempts me to despair—yet the poor choices we humans have made have not squelched the beauty of a sunset, the innocent charm of a baby’s smile, or the delicious fragrance of homemade bread. I still gasp in wonder at the majesty of the mountains, the power of the ocean, or the sweetness of a bird’s song.

As I embrace God’s goodness reflected in the beauty He created, I realize I am not a pawn of my circumstances, without hope. I am not a victim of cruelty, abandoned to this world of pain. God’s care for me shines in the beauty that continues all around me, waiting to be discovered. God’s beauty shines in Christ.

I’m discovering Jesus. I’m finding Him more often than I used to. He’s in a good movie, the night whispers, and the people I know. And that discovery brings beauty that transcends the pain of the world. In Him I have hope.

“Father, I know life will continue to knock me around. I’ll be angry and hurt, maybe even get mad at you when things don’t go my way. But that doesn’t change the fact that You are beautiful and good. May Your beauty change me, Lord. Open my eyes to it. Let it fill me with hope.”

*****************************************************************************************

August 23, 2004 —

The Moon

My husband sighed and wrapped his arms around me as he shared the experience. “I came around a corner and the moon was so breathtaking over the mountains I gasped. It was God catching me off guard with Himself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“So often I go through life as though it were routine. I experience good things and know they are from God, but I’m not awed. I go about my business missing the wonder of Who He is.

“When I saw the moon I literally had to catch my breath. It was so beautiful that all I could think about was how spectacular God is. It was as if He were showing me a piece of Himself—a little bit of His glory through creation. He shook me out of my routine and stunned me with His beauty.”

Jerry’s comments fit with some reading I did last week by Brennan Manning. He wrote in the Ragamuffin Gospel about how important it is for us to have a sense of wonder. He says that with the great scientific advances of the last century, and even the last ten years, we’ve forgotten how to be amazed. We just keep waiting for the latest invention or the most recent discovery and we lose the wonder. He asserts that when we miss the amazement in life, we also miss a piece of God.

Another word for awe is reverence. Could it be that as we lose our fascination with His creation that we also lose some of our ability to reverence Him? Manning’s writing encouraged me to ask God to open my eyes to the wonder around me.

I’m glimpsing it in the laughter that bubbles forth unexpectedly from my little nephew as he bounces through my living room. I sense it in the roses blossoming in my front yard and the grace of my daughter as she does gymnastics. Acts of kindness can bring a lump to my throat as my heart swells at the wonder of good. And time spent exploring creation is sure to make my heart lift in praise to the creator.

Years ago my family took a trip to California. As we returned home through Nevada we saw the biggest, brightest, most amazing moon I’ve ever sense. The children were small, but even with their limited attention span they stared at the window, enraptured. I’ll never forget how that gleaming white globe filled our windshield. We watched its slow ascent and marveled at its beauty.

Soon we were talking about God. Our sense of wonder led us to thoughts of Him. My husband told the children that the moon didn’t have its own energy, that it only reflected the light of the sun. He explained that the brightness we saw was the sun’s light, bounced off the moon, down to us.

We ended up talking about how we are like the moon. God shines His light on us and wants us to reflect it out to the people we meet. It was a holy moment, a moment of awe that became reverent.

The last several years I’ve asked God to reveal more of His beauty to me. I first began praying like this because beautiful things have a way of touching my heart with a deep, peaceful joy. I wanted to see His beauty because it made me feel good.

I’m learning that His beauty does much more than that. It changes me. It is so pure, so awesome, so full of wonder that it brings me to my knees in reverence. And as I worship Him, He changes me.

“Father, I want to live life more fully with a sense of wonder. Open my eyes to the beauty You’ve placed around me. Give me a sense of awe as I see You in the good of people and the glory of creation. Then, Lord, please turn my awe to reverence that I might worship You with new depth and be changed.”