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| {via pintrest} |
it's a habit we have, this obsession with beauty.
we see it in the face of a beautiful woman, flawless skin and weighing just right.
we see it in the beautiful people. the rich people. the ones who can pay us back for our worshipful admiration.
but did you catch this thing we do?
we worship this beauty
and not the One who made it so.
did we forget that there is more beauty in suffering than in perfection?
that beauty was created when blood flowed down a splintered beam and words were wailed from Father to Son.
from sinless sin to Sovereign Parenthood?
and so this thing of beauty changes from world to Heaven's eyes.
and there it is.
amid the ruin of a run-down home, the history in the painted walls and the still-smooth banisters.
in the richness of a third-world village, not a penny to be seen but more joy in the dirt-smeared faces there than in any gilded hall.
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| {via pintrest} |
in the smile on a new father's face.
that sweet illumination as he takes his flesh and bone into his arms
and cradles this new infant with more love
than he ever imagined.
wife in one arm, child in the other.
this is his glimpse of the face of God.
sunstreams flowing in from window to floor. this humble worship of the world to the One who formed it in His fingers.
this is the beauty we must see.
in the cracks and corners and little bits of light in misty emptiness.
not the reflection must we worship.
but the One in whom
