He stands on top of a mountain and feels the Spirit of God pulse through his body. Life. Breath. Grace. Good gifts that seem to well up within as he surveys the panorama of jagged peaks.
This is Alaska. Wildness that reaches inside you and awakens possibility. Beauty that whispers steady hope to your weary soul.
This is God: Creator of that wildness and Whisperer of that beauty.
What do you do when beauty makes you ache?
You praise. You get on your knees and beg the Almighty for more revelation. And then you come off that mountain top and live out that beauty in the everyday. In the muck and mire of government shutdowns, countries at war, accidents that take lives, and violence that invades innocence. And in that living out, you cry for more beauty. You cry to see Him more.
Ann Voskamp calls this practicing Eucharisteo (the Greek words of giving thanks). Jesus broke bread and gave thanks. Then he died on the cross. But death wasn’t the final word. Christ rose, grinding death into the ground and extracting beauty.
This beauty–the power of God in the resurrection of the dead–sings to us in the quiet moments, when we settle our souls and listen with our hearts. This is the beauty I hear whispered when hiking through the woods, staring across the vastness of the ocean, or yesterday, when passing a beautiful large wooden gate. Yes, a gate with a large iron hinge. It beckoned me to enter into the moment and praise.
So whether it’s mountains and wildness . . . (and who wouldn’t be snagged by the beauty of this?)
. . . or cities, people, or gates . . . open your ears to the Whisperer and praise Him.
Your turn: What situations of beauty have you been in that cause your soul to weep with joy?