Beholding Beauty

Every time I go to Target with my boys their first request is to see the vacuum aisle. Not the toy aisle, cute Target puppy with the wagging tail, or candy section. The vacuum aisle.

They've got Dysons, Bissells, and—oh my—the beloved robot vacuum. I do not know why exactly this fixation began, but the boys have entertained staff and shoppers alike with their exuberance upon entering the aisle.

As their vacuum-induced euphoria increased over time, my boys began to call out "oooo we need this one, mom!", "I have to have this one", or some similar demand. Their admiration for vacuums quickly morphed into an incessant need and I, subsequently, began dreading walking past the assortment of display models.

It struck me one day—while driving to Target and considering if I'd permit them to check on their sacred hoovers—that my toddlers' perspective toward vacuums was an all too accurate depiction of a prevalent social ethic.

You see, it is human nature to want what is beautiful. We cannot simply appreciate the intricately designed vacuums, we must strive to own them all; we cannot simply observe the flower, we must pluck it; we cannot simply recognize a human's beauty, we must consume it.

Naturally, this realization left me wondering why. Why are humans largely incapable of appreciating beauty without needing to gain something from it?

Let's begin by confessing what we've forgotten:

1. We have forgotten who the Creator of beauty is

Humans are beautiful. When I study my children and notice how they have a combination of both their father's hazel eyes and my brown eyes, I am in awe. Their mysterious pot-luck irises alone seem to hold galaxies. When I hear stories from the elderly and better understand the context of their weather-worn hands, wrinkled skin, and laugh-lines, I am in awe. Decades of their story have manifested upon their well lived-in bodies. And when I survey my neighbors—with their vast array of skin shades and cultural backgrounds—I am, again, in awe. Their diversity in both appearance and culture showcases a level of creativity inconceivable to man.

It is clear that each human was intentionally designed but it is a truth easy to forget. We must, then, consistently fight to tether ourselves down to the truth that each person was created by the true Creator, God.

When we remember that God creates each person uniquely and with purpose, we celebrate creation's beauty while remembering our role. We are the clay; He is the potter.

2. We have forgotten how to be content

If we are struggling to properly behold beauty, perhaps it is because our understanding of beauty is tainted by discontentment. It's easy to be discontent when beauty is a game only the attractive can win. And it's easy to compare in order to determine how you line up with the competition.

Throughout scripture we see humanity struggle with comparison. Eve wanted God’s power, Jacob wanted his brother's birthright, Leah wanted her sister's beauty, David wanted his friend’s wife, and that's only a fraction of the Old Testament. Perhaps what's preventing us from admiring the beauty in creation is our inability to admire the beauty God has instilled in us.

No matter how we believe we compare to others, God formed us beautifully. As image-bearers of The Lord Himself, we are ignorantly prideful to suggest otherwise.

We can only be content when we hold fast to the truth that God—in His sovereignty—sees beauty when He looks at us because He sees His Son. There’s no need to strive for beauty when it has been given so freely.

The Art of Beholding Beauty

It's clear we've lost the art of beholding beauty, so how do we re-capture it? Once we remember who created beauty and learn to be content with the lot God has given us, we must practice the skill of beholding.

There is a stark contrast between the way the world and the American church beholds beauty.

In today's world, it’s unheard of to suggest that certain forms of consuming another human are unhealthy. Through crude, possessive talk, porn addiction, and casual sex the world not only consumes people, but boldly boasts about it. Callousness has evolved into pride.

But perhaps, like me, you're wary of the vacuum aisle's beauty; you're wondering if taking notice of beauty is ever worth it when doing so frequently leads to sin. While conservative ethics have done a thorough job warning us of the dangers of beauty—either intentionally or by concession—they have often fostered an inability to behold beauty. “Purity culture,” as we call it, is a prime example. If our definition of purity is directly tied to virginity, sex is rarely discussed positively, and the female body is consistently criticized and covered, we will struggle to see beauty in God's design because we will be terrified to look.

As believers we must recognize and discuss God's design for sex and the human body. God is no prude—He’s the one who designed sex and inspired Song of Solomon—so why are we?

It should go without saying that discernment and wisdom are key here: we cannot forgo clothing in the name of appreciating beauty or act a fool over a vacuum in Target; however, we can behold beauty by recognizing it exists, celebrating it, and communicating wisdom while emphasizing humanity's inherent beauty & value.

Hear this: there is nothing wrong with acknowledging the beauty displayed in humanity. We can objectively concede that something or someone is beautiful without needing to act on that acknowledgement.

If I left you on the edge of your seat with our vacuum debacle, I never did abandon our favorite aisle. Instead, I have made it my mission to help my boys reframe their approach to beauty. We walk down the vacuum aisle slowly, read the labels, drool over the complex designs and features, and always leave empty handed. Empty handed but satisfied. Instead of exclaiming "I need this" as a response to beauty, we now aim for "that's beautiful." Perhaps vacuums are a ridiculous metaphor, but I believe it's important to teach our children the art of beholding beauty even in the small things.

If walking at a snail's pace down aisle D42 has taught me anything, it is that humanity has a deeply rooted desire to own beauty. Vacuum, flower, or woman, the subject of desire may change (and vary greatly in value) but the foundational issue remains the same: we've lost the art of beholding beauty and we must make it our mission to get it back.