Nobody sees a flower– really– it is so small– we haven’t time– and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time. If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it, no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small. So I said to myself– I’ll paint what I see– what the flower is to me but I’ll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking time to look at it– I will make even busy New Yorkers take time to see what I see of flowers. – Georgia O’Keeffe, 1931
The ability to appreciate beauty intrigues me. Beauty attracts, but also inspires. There are different forms of beauty—physical, spiritual, artistic. Of course, our culture is enamored with physical beauty. Sometimes I fear we have settled for such stated, doctored, and even base forms of beauty that our souls are dulled to the subtle, more inspiring forms of beauty God has given us. Beauty dwells in a heart touched and healed by God’s love in a time of unique need. Beauty lives in an expression of care in tune with the fears and insecurities of a hurting soul. Beauty lies in an inspiring idea captured in words that give proportion and a path to compassionate action. All such things are laden with beauty.
Though we see, hear, feel beauty around us every day, we don’t always recognize or appreciate it. Georgia O’Keeffe captured the imagination and appreciation with her larger than life perspective of nature’s beauty. In so doing, she stretched our understanding of art and its purpose. She sought to augment and exaggerate for emphasis, for impact. The pace of modern living makes us dull of such observations and, therefore, appreciation. We must train ourselves to relish beauty.
One of the most impacting realizations I came to several years ago was the need to develop an appreciation for God’s subtle beauty in the world around me. Early in my spiritual life, everything was concrete, tangible, quantifiable. Yet, largely through the teachings of Jesus, I’ve come to appreciate subtlety and ambiguity. Sometimes the most powerful things in life are the least packaged. There are not always easy answers for every question. The process of discovering beautiful perspective is at least as important as the process.
I am the pastor of a small mountain church called Whispering Pines Church in Coal Creek Canyon, Colorado. In our men’s breakfast at the church last month, we discussed the following question: “If you were asked to write a book entitled, ‘What I learned about God because of living in Coal Creek Canyon,’ what would you write?” For me, one of the aspects of life here in the mountains I have relished in is the subtle, more individual working of God in the lives of people. The relational connections, the unique beauty that can be forged in loyal friendships—these are the crucible within which God mixes His most colorful pigments.
