God and Beauty

I was about to say, “Give me strength, Lord,” but right now that phrase just reminds me of my exhaustion, so instead I’ll say, “Give me beauty, Lord,” because beauty keeps me joyfully in the present, struck by wonder, fruitful and free of torment.

–from a journal entry, spring 2013

We are made for beauty. It offers a glimpse of what’s to come—a tiny, flickering foretaste of the reality of God. But we’re so small and finite we can’t contain true beauty. It awakens our spirits in such a way that we can barely breathe. No wonder we say that something “takes our breath away.” We long to be engulfed by beauty, to become one with it. This is why we wish we could step into the magnificent painting; it’s why we hike deep into the woods or nuzzle our faces into our baby’s neck or intertwine our limbs with those of our lover. 

Have you ever noticed that true beauty causes an internal ache? Sometimes this ache is nearly unbearable. One key reason for this feeling is that, for now, beauty cannot last. We can’t remain at the canyon’s edge forever; we must turn off the music and get back to work; this moment as the baby sleeps will soon pass. We yearn for beauty eternal, for the time when beauty will no longer turn away from us but will go on endlessly.

C.S. Lewis stated that we ache for “that indescribable something of which [things of beauty] become for a moment the messengers.” That “indescribable something” is the uninterrupted presence of the Father. It is heaven. It is beauty eternal. These things are just beyond our reach as long as we are still bound to earth. Too often in our longing for God, we foolishly pursue pleasure in its most immediate forms. Yet the preacher’s warning that sin is a result of looking for God “in all the wrong places” sounds silly—if we have tasted only religion versus God Himself. “I’ve tried religion, and I’m certainly not longing for that!” we think. It’s only when we’ve experienced the Beloved and “gazed[d] on the beauty of the Lord” (Ps. 27:4) that we are forever wrecked. Only then will we admit that yes, that’s what we’ve been longing for.

The Be-All and End-All

“And it shall be in that day, says the Lord, that you will call Me Ishi [my Husband]” (Hos. 2:16, AMP).

I have little patience for the idea that marriage is the be-all and end-all, that singleness is somehow “less than,” and that singles are to be pitied because they cannot know the joy of an intimate relationship. Anyone who believes such things has never known God as Husband.

Those who know me might wonder how I can speak authoritatively on the subject of singleness since I’ve been married pretty much my whole adult life. However, for 23 years I was what you might call a married single: legally bound but spouseless in every other way. This prompted a desperate search for intimacy with God.

God is knowable in a million ways—as Savior, Friend, Warrior, Provider, Lion, Lamb, and so on, endlessly. To those who long for intimacy (and does that not include the whole human race?), He will show Himself as Lover and Husband. In my search for intimacy, I discovered that God’s love for me was far more vast than I could have imagined. It was all-consuming and flawless. I was head over heels and experienced the giddiness, devotion, and desire to please that a woman feels when she falls deeply in love.

But what about things like physical touch and audible conversation? Granted, these elements aren’t possible in a love affair with one’s Creator, and yes, I longed for them. And yet God continued to fulfill and refresh me, just like the prophet described: “The Lord will . . . satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden” (Isa. 58:11, NIV). God’s cosmic love knocked the wind out of me again and again. As He spoke to my heart, through His Word or through music or beauty or books or sunlight, He calmed me and energized me. There were times when the joy was almost unbearable.

We human beings get into trouble when we act out of desperation but fail to realize that intimacy with our Creator is what we’re desperate for. Even the finest human relationship is, at best, temporary and flawed, a mere glimpse of what’s to come. This is not to minimize the importance and validity of marriage and other vital human relationships; it’s only to say that we’re limited by our humanness and won’t be wholly, permanently satisfied until we’re with the great Lover for eternity. Therefore, our appetite for intimacy (that is, for God) is insatiable, and this is right and good.

I’m hopelessly in love with my husband, Kenny. In fact, I can’t imagine that two people could be more perfect for each other than we are, and yet my heart still aches for the bliss and beauty of my most intimate moments with God. I realize that this feeling will never end, nor should it—nor is it any reflection on my sweet, beloved man that I still long for more of my eternal Beloved. As lovely as married life can be, it’s not the conclusion of the matter. Even the kindest, most noble spouse is finite, flawed, and broken. God is infinite; His love is perfect and limitless, and no less available to the single woman than to the married one. In describing this infinite love, psalmist Steffany Frizzell said it best: “[Jesus] could love me more in a moment than other lovers could in a lifetime.”

What Do You Wanna Do Now?

When we first fall in love, we do everything possible to make our beloved happy. We’re committed to finding out how he would like to spend an afternoon or evening. "Would you like to see a movie? Would you rather go out or let me cook for you? What do you wanna do now?"

But how often in the course of a say do we ask the Lord, "What do You wanna do now?"

Sometimes, following Jesus means moving our belongings into a storage unit and joining a missions team in a far-off place. But most of the time it means allowing Him to lead the way through the twists and turns of a typical day. Those who quietly, consistently follow will find it's a simpler way to live than they expected, devoid of the frenzy that constitutes much of what we call Christianity. The simplicity can make us uncomfortable; we feel a nudge to pull ourselves away from The Big Bang Theory or a compelling work project and sit in a favorite chair and just be, but then we mentally flog ourselves for being lazy. We forget that God-time shouldn't be about what we want to do (or feel we need to do), but what He wants to do.

Several years ago, when I was first learning this lesson, I wrote,

"I want to wholly follow His agenda, not that of my own making. Yesterday after church, He and I had a great time doing nothing. I lit some candles and put on a CD and lay on the floor of my office for a couple of hours. I fell asleep a few times, watching the flicker of the candle flame through the red fabric of a blanket. It’s what He wanted to do, and it was perfect."

Perhaps you're willing to follow God to the ends of the earth. This is good. But what if, today, He wants You to simply follow Him to the easy chair in the next room? Will you go?