Beauty, a concept that often eludes definition, has a way of captivating us in the most unexpected moments. Take, for instance, my son, Miles, who just turned 15 years old. Twelve years ago, right after his third birthday, which always falls close to Ashland’s Balloonfest, when multiple hot air balloons graced the skies, he looked up, saw the balloons passing over our house, and exclaimed, "Dad, isn't it so ‘bootiful’?" The sight of these majestic balloons, something so ordinary, had captivated him. The regular evening sky transformed into a breathtaking kaleidoscope of colors, a sight that was truly awe-inspiring.
Beauty causes us to stop, stare, and lose track of time. It begs for us to experience it as it mesmerizes us. We cannot explain it. Pictures don’t do it justice. Beauty cannot be contained or controlled. We’re left saying, “I guess you had to be there.”
The writer of Ecclesiastes, in a somewhat melancholy reflective moment, writes:
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
As I delve into the words of Ecclesiastes, I find a reflection of my quest for meaning and purpose. From the beginning words of "Meaningless, meaningless," there is this hope that something beautiful can rise from the ashes of human toil and existence. These eight verses are a song describing how there is a time for this and a time for that. For the writer, better known as the “Teacher” of Ecclesiastes, there is an equal and opposite reaction for every action; such is the humdrum of our existence—a sort of tit-for-tat, back-and-forth pursuit. We’re left asking questions that haunt us (often late at night as we try to fall asleep.
How do we get ahead in a world of give and take?
What's the overarching story? (Is there one?)
Why do we live? (Is this different than merely surviving?)
Why does evil seem to prosper? Why do we witness the unfairness of bad things happening to good people? Why does life often appear so fleeting and haphazard, lacking a clear plan? These are not just rhetorical questions, but the very essence of our existential ponderings. They are the questions that stir our innermost thoughts and reflections, challenging us to seek deeper understanding.
As we delve further into the chapters, we notice that words offer a glimmer of hope and purpose. He notes, "Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end” (v. 11, emphasis mine). The word “beautiful” signifies not merely cosmetic appeal but a deep sense of suitability and sacredness. The wise ones among us can discern this infusion of the sacred amid the secular, reminding us of the profound purpose that underlies our existence.
The work, toil, sorrow, and happiness of life in general are familiar to all people of all time. Every generation has felt the routine and monotony of life. The sun rises, and the sun sets, tides ebb and flow, seasons come and go. Beauty takes faith and focus amid a world of boredom and disbelief.
Verse 11 would argue that faith and focus allow us to witness the invasion of the sacred into the ordinary. Such an aesthetic assault makes every day a potential for the irruption of beauty. Beauty provides the transcendence we need. In many ways, beauty is miraculous. It stands out in a world of war, sickness, violence, and despair and tells a different story.
Deep within us, when we see something beautiful, we recognize it is not merely a personal preference. Both Christians and atheists alike get perturbed when you relegate something they deem beautiful as simply a personal preference. G.K. Chesterton, in Orthodoxy, wrote that if Christians must always be on guard as to the problem of evil, might atheists have to answer for the problem of beauty and pleasure in the world? Why do we experience beauty if naturalistic definitions or natural, uncontrollable rhythms define the world? Chesterton asks why sex feels good and is a communal act if some worms reproduce asexually. Pressing further, he asks why we experience pleasure at all.
The Catholic theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar would argue that our ability to label something as beautiful is the imprint of a beautiful God. Beauty reminds us of God's suitable time/rhythm for our lives. If the beauty we behold on earth originates in God, there must have been beauty in God from all eternity. Consequently, beauty isn’t merely something God does or makes; it is who God is. In Light of the Word, he notes, indeed proclaims:
The way in which all being “gives itself” through its beauty, its goodness, and its truth has its origins in the source of all being, God, who is self-gift and who is beauty, goodness, and truth.
Beauty gives itself to us and begs us to give of ourselves. The potential for beauty amid our most ordinary experiences exists because a self-disclosing, self-giving God is in our present moment. Beauty is God's activity in our midst. Therefore, when we look at something beautiful, we don’t just see a beautiful thing; we see the world as it was intended.
But the verb “see” does not do justice to beauty (much less taste, smell, hear). Our identification of the senses is far too rudimentary, even crude. I think of John’s gospel when John the Baptist sees Jesus from afar. See is far too passive for John. Instead, John the writer has John the Baptist proclaim, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29, ESV, emphasis mine).
Behold! It's quite a word. It captures something more than looking or seeing. It implies a sense of awe, wonder, and expectation. When John saw Jesus coming, he didn't simply see him from afar. In that moment, John sees in Jesus what nobody else does. In the flesh, John the Baptist is probably Jesus' earliest friend. John considers the divine friend who heals the world. John experienced beauty, and the beauty of Jesus had to be beheld!
When we behold someone or something, we see potential (for the individual, for the way the world should be). Beauty is not merely in performance, but it encompasses worth. We see things all the time we rarely behold. In the beholding, we not only view the person or object but also experience a level of union in our hope-filled attraction. We want to be as near it as we can be. We behold in utter delight because we know we ignore at our peril.
This reaction is made trite when we think of beauty too cosmetically. Beauty and pretty are not synonymous. Amid horrific tragedy, we can witness the beauty of heroism, sacrifice, and hope. Beauty seems to be a cosmic painter’s brush stroke on a canvas in which the world is made right. The world becomes suitable for God and his creation. For a fleeting moment, we fall into God's providence and recognize his goodness. We trust!
Beauty is restoration, revealing that the world is straight out of the mind and heart of God. God is beautiful and only creates beautiful things. When we look at something truly beautiful, we see God. Beauty shows us that God has made a "suitable" time for everything. Beauty is extravagant…it doesn’t make sense in a world of routine, monotony, and gray.
In his masterful book Called to Attraction, Brendan Thomas Sammon notes, “Beauty is the capacity to see beyond the appearance of things to their depth where they often hide themselves from a world suffering under the weight of sin.”
In the words of the Teacher, beauty shows us that in a world of endless cycles, a tiny ember of eternity remains aglow in the human heart. Beauty makes herself known in a world of practical, status quo, decaying, and ugliness. Beauty doesn’t make sense, and this makes it scandalous and inspires our sinister desires to commodify it. But the Teacher reprimands us by declaring, "We do not understand God's scope." In other words, we don't control the world.
Beauty starkly contrasts what we’re seeing and what we know as reality. ("A time for this" or "a time for that") When we think of beautiful things, we tend to think of marriages/weddings and babies being born, but beauty is much more earthy than just those examples.
God's beauty, or God the source of beauty, answers the questions posed by the Teacher of Ecclesiastes. It is the meaning, purpose, and ultimate good of our existence because it is the energies of a God who will not have us lost. Beauty invites us to recognize the sacredness of relationships, time, and space, the intersection of which we call “the present.” And so, at the end of Ecclesiastes, the Teacher sums up the wise life: “Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind” (12:13). In other words, allow God's plan to be beautiful and suitable.
I think the Lord’s particular words to me would be:
Cease your striving.
Come out from hiding.
For you, my reading friends, may you find God in the small details of creation. Cherish friendships. Sip good coffee. Hug a little longer. Listen to the birds sing. Smell freshly cut grass. When you do, you will find your heart where God has planted eternity.
In the words of the Great Teacher, Jesus, "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Mt. 6:21). Translation: your heart is where you invest yourself! Invest in beauty, and you’ll find God.
I dedicate this post to my son, Miles Henry, who turned 15 on June 22. He already has the drive and perseverance for a successful life. I pray that that three-year-old appreciation for beauty remains deep within and cultivates a worshipful life as well.