The word ‘beautiful’ gets thrown around a lot these days…. And sometimes it’s really annoying. Because when it’s said really pretentiously around eeeeeeverything, the word loses its meaning so fast. There are those people to whom absolutely anything is beautiful… anything. “Oh look at that wall, the way the stucco sticks out with all the graffiti and gum on it… it’s beautiful.” “Oh look at the way the light beams off that dumpster next to that one plant… so so beautiful.”
So I’mmmm….. ummm… definitely one of those people sometimes. I admit, get me in a certain kind of mood, and my standards of beauty plummet. Generally I’m most affected in developing countries or in places of extreme exoticism, you know? Like, “ohhhh look that camel just threw up on that Arab baby… it’s so beautiful.” “I just love all the violence and lawlessness in this dusty disease-ridden ghetto… so beautiful.” “That Indian gypsy prostitute beggar woman has no money, no dignity, no home, and no teeth. Look how beautiful it is the way her bones stick out of her decrepit body… so BEAUTIFUL.” And heaven forbid the sun is setting. “Look at that feral mangy emaciated baby cow taking a poop in the road with the sun setting behind it… it’s so beautiful.”
Maybe it’s a gift? To see beauty in places like that? Probably it’s just annoying.
But here’s the thing, there’s a lot of beauty out there, and I’ve seen probably more than my fair share of it. But one thing has stood out above all the others, and I wanted to share it here.
The most beautiful thing I ever saw:
I do this for a few reasons.
One, because it wasn’t what I expected it to be.
Two, because it’s probably not what you’re expecting it to be.
Three, because it rewrote my standards of what I see as beautiful.
Four, because I have no doubt in my mind that there’s nothing more beautiful.
It’s not a person. It’s not a landscape. And in most cases the sun isn’t even setting.
No contest, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen is the Gospel at work. Seeing what it does in peoples’ lives, hearing it shared, hearing the Holy Spirit take over with words you never knew you had, seeing someone so engrossed in sharing that the passion and purpose just echo around them… Sharing the Gospel is a not only work of art, it is the most perfect, intricate, and beautiful work there is.
I remember in Ecuador, sharing with University students in Spanish, my mind completely blank as words I’ve literally never put together before tumbled faster and faster out of my mouth. And I remember the earnestness and weight of what I was saying grow both in me and in the person I was sharing with, and it’s very clear to me that I wasn’t the one speaking. Stepping back completely, surrendering control to the power of the Holy Spirit, and seeing it actually work – there’s nothing more beautiful. And it didn’t even have to be me. Seeing Enrique or Kenya or Michelle take over, when my Spanish would falter, while the life of the Gospel immediately would flood back in to the conversation – the Holy Spirit is so evident, so real, and so darn beautiful.
– Practicing the Gospel in Spanish with my new brother and sister, Enrique and Kenya –
Guayaquil, Ecuador, Summer 2011
Seeing the Holy Spirit work like that, moving lips and moving hearts, stirring everything up in a whisper and proportioning supreme importance on that one particular moment, when the words of life are spoken and finally, finally at long last understood… that can only be described by one word. Beautiful
This is art. This is beauty. Hope and peace and power and true, true religion, spoken by someone brave enough to open their mouths but humble enough to not say a word, while the Holy Spirit wraps everything up in words so beautiful that lives are instantly and irrevocably changed. People sharing the Gospel in whatever capacity they are able – that is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And now whenever I hear anyone sharing, I just stop, and take it all in. Sometimes I’ll close my eyes and let the words of the Holy Spirit just wash over me. Sometimes I’ll be fascinated by the dawning comprehension of hope on the recipient’s face. And sometimes I’ll just think, and remember earnestly what that story means to me right then. My journey of brokenness and self-surrender, of the hope that Jesus died for me because He loves me, no matter what I’ve done or how far I run away. The news that God wants my heart, that He wants all of me, not because I deserve it but because He still thinks I’m the most beautiful thing He’s ever created. And the hope given by Jesus' sacrifice, the purpose for which I live.
And since then, because of the light of the Gospel that poured into my life by which I now see everything so clearly, everything has just been so beautiful all the time.
Love,
Danny
