What the Heavens Declare

I wandered through unfamiliar Blogger territory this morning and stumbled upon Seedlings in Stone: Consuming Beauty, by L. L. Barkat. Out of my own dislike of being redirected out of a post to another post in the middle of a post, I have reproduced it below, sans picture. I hasten to add that I think the blog deserves a visit, and I don't mean to imply otherwise by copying the words!

“We cannot co-exist with beauty, without facing the instinct to consume it. That's what Caitlin Neufeld says in her article "Buying into Beauty" (Geez, Summer 2007). Our consumer attitude, she asserts, runs the gamut from wanting to share a sunset, to wanting to write a story, to wanting to take a picture. Sex and picking a flower were also included in the list.

“I pondered her thoughts and wondered what beauty really means. Isn't it by nature something that stirs up desire in us? Without that desire, would we really be talking about beauty?

“In the end, I couldn't help but wonder where the fine line is between consumption and celebration, exploitation and appreciation. It seemed that for Neufeld there was no line at all. To want to preserve something by taking it home in any form, even as an inspiring memory was problematic. And so I left her article with a haunting sense that, indeed, I might be judged for consuming beauty.”

Here's my response… to beauty, if not to the substance of the post. I fear it will expose my rather "consumerist" approach to beauty, so described.

So be it.

I awoke early this morning to the sound of thunder that rattled the walls of the house and sent our more skittish kitty scurrying for cover. My heart quickened when I came to consciousness of the storm, because I had been praying for rain fervently for days as I watched the stream in our yard, so central to the wildlife here, dry up into nothing but a few puddles covered with a dull patina of rust and algae.

Afraid in my half-asleep state to somehow *jinx* the rain, I lay quietly, listening to the irregular pounding of water on the window and counting the seconds between light and sound. But I was soon discontent to be huddled there under the covers with MooMoo purring next to me and Daniel breathing gently and rhythmically.

Throwing on a pair of pants and a lightweight terry jacket (the only thing with a hood in my summer closet), I rushed outside into the pouring rain and walked the banks of the swollen, rushing stream. The sight of the water, flecked with white where it crashed into itself, the sound of its haste, the damp aroma of the sodden earth, the feel of the tiny tributaries that fed it washing over my toes... all of it brought such a profound awe, and I found myself rejoicing, laughing, and wishing that there was some way I could convey the joy of that moment to another living soul.

It wasn't the nature itself I wanted to share, really. Through other eyes the waters would simply have been filthy runoff, and the soggy lawn nothing more than a reminder of the practicality of mud rooms and shiny yellow rubber boots. What I wanted to share was the promise the moment whispered in my heart.

By the time I went back indoors, I had collected rain in my coat and hair, bits of earth on my half-naked feet, and a few digital pictures to help me remember when the stream dries up that it will not always be so. The beauty of the spreading waters gave birth to a renewed conviction in me that God's providence is always at work, even when its workings are hidden from my imperfect sight.

The Psalmist says, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard."

The heavens indeed proclaimed God's glory, and they showered down His blessings this morning.

Where we find beauty, we find God.
Where we find beauty, we find knowledge of the holy.
Where we find beauty, we find redemption.
Where we find beauty, we find glimpses of heaven.
Where we find beauty, we find our souls reaching toward their Creator.

I think God has designed us this way, to desire the beautiful, because through beauty He quenches our parched souls and floods us with His love. The danger is not in consumerism, per se, though consumerism is certainly a very limiting approach to the world around us. The danger is not in wishing to take something away from or to share or to add to or interpret the beauty we see. The danger is much more primal and much more elemental. The danger is idolatry. Even the fundamentally pure and holy creation God called "good" is not to be possessed and desired for its own sake. Beauty in nature and in other people is what is best about us, it is the divine. Surely human relationships display this truth when they are at their best; they are a reflection of divine love, which is passionate and all-consuming, in the most exalted sense of the word.

Beauty is to be reveled in and shared, because it is the voice of the Lover of Mankind to those He created in His own image, and He will not leave off professing His love until He has drawn us to Himself fully, completely and finally.

I for one, am still being wooed.