I wrote this blog post for a series at church last Spring, but thought it fit in my thoughts today. I've been struggling with feeling good in my own skin lately, and I re-read this to remind myself of my quest! I will lift up my gaze.
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| A sparkly fireworks moment on the day of freedom! |
He is quite wonderful, in His winkings.
Matthew 6: 26-28
Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?
So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
I was driving to work last Friday morning, extra early, to meet a few of my fellow teacher friends for breakfast. I’m not a morning person, but I love bacon. I was running five minutes late per usual, and I was feeling quite crabby. But, after years of practice, changing my approach to the day is easy: lifting my gaze. I gently refocused my eyes away from the brake lights of the slow-poke car in front of me, and there He was; He was in the bud-heavy intricate branch-work of almost-Spring trees. The line of four trees created a showy silhouette against the distant horizon as they weaved up into the clouds against a crisp lavender swirly sunrise.
And I said, “Hi.” God had winked at me.
I call these moments (where heaven gives us a glimpse of the way God sees things) as winks. They must only be winks. Think of the vastness of our Father’s beauty. Four trees? But, if we let it, the beauty inevitably breaks in for us, and our ability to see and understand these winks from our creator shows us our identity.
God gave us the ability to see, to hear, to feel his winks of beauty as his sons and daughers. His homing device in our souls is our wonder. From our earliest days of observing the world, we experienced these “sudden flashes in [our] souls / like lambent lightning on snowy clouds / at midnight when the moon is full” as Edgar Lee Masters wrote. It’s how I knew God was there all along; I recognized His handiwork. You understand and recognize beauty when you experience it—we all do. It’s His trademark move.
But, even though we all experience these flashes, worry elbows its way into our world views. Seeking, revealing, making, enjoying His beauty takes a back seat to controlling, worrying, striving, comparing.
But, in the last months, I have reason for celebration in victory against worry. One of God’s winks to me was showing me how far we have come in laying down my perfectionism in exchange for more winks. God highlighted Matthew 26 to me (above) ten years ago when I was stepping onto a yellow brick road of my own. I hoped it would lead to a city where I could trust God. I understood Jesus’s promise: the Father will always take care of us. The birds don’t worry, the lilies don’t worry. They’re both content in their livelihoods. God’s got it covered. Done and done. No worry. K. Got it. I will have food, I will have shelter, I will have clothes. Good to know.
But it’s not that one-dimensional.
Notice that Jesus chooses which things he will use to get his point across. He uses images, concepts, parts of creation that speak to our hearts as understanders of beauty. He pokes gently at God’s trademark and suddenly our wonder syncs into His point. He doesn’t just say birds. He chooses “birds of the air.” Birds soaring in the sky, now these are encapsulating. These are when birds are most beautiful to us. And why does God use soaring birds to wink at us? Because they aren’t worrying. They are beautiful and they are free. Birds trust the Lord.
Jesus doesn’t tell us to think about flowers. He says “lilies of the field, in their splendor.” Not just a flower, but lilies of the field. Dressed like kings, swaying in the breeze, basking in the sun. Free. Trusting. Can’t you imagine them in “their splendor?” I see them yellow—what color are yours?
He uses the beauty He knows we understand because he gave us the ability to resonate with His beauty. And, in addition to saying, don’t fret my pet, he is saying, “By the by, beauty doesn’t try so hard. So, be beautiful.”
When we see those trees (when you look in those eyes, when you hear the first chord in your favorite song, when you feel the first warm breeze of Spring, when you hear your best friend’s laugh, when you open your eyes) let go of the striving. I let go of my tight grip on the steering wheel, and I lifted my gaze to what makes me His. My ability to stop striving and see the beauty is connecting me to trust God and trust His identity for me, as beauty-seeker. And I am more beautiful myself when I am free.
He is quite wonderful, in his winks of beauty.
