Tuesday, August 11, 2015

He knows more

by Alanna

 We all struggle with it right? It greets us in the grocery checkout line, surprises us in a mountain town bookshop, cropping up everywhere to remind us that we don't quite measure up. And although in my heart and mind I'm ok with not measuring up to the world's standard of beauty, I still compare myself. I notice the girls showing off more of their body than I am; I cringe when I walk with my husband and my brother in this fallen place. I'm tired of this particular battle, this tide of sensuality that seems to infiltrate my whole world some days. It's wearying, facing temptations to compete or despair.
  I got a beautiful mostly escape from it all this weekend. A trip to the mountains with my grandparents. It was breathtaking and peaceful. Driving home I stared out my window at the clouds. These huge ones- storm underneath and white billows on top. And words could never describe them, and a picture wouldn't half do them justice. They are moving and changing and simply beautiful. People will never make anything to compare with them. No picture, no invention, no art work, no poem. We'll never even come close to Him. His creativity, His glory manifest in His creation. And then I realized.  

He knows more about beauty than we do.

 And why I choose to listen to these lies, when my Father is the author of beauty. I get lost sometimes because I forget to immerse myself in His truth, in the things He calls beautiful.
   I want to remember what He says. A gentle and quiet spirit, precious in His sight. A beauty that is imperishable. The beauty of this world He calls deceitful and vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. A husband loving his bride, I'm reminded in the Proverbs and Song of Solomon. A woman submitting to her groom. Real love. I want to drown in it, to be so filled with truth that there's no room for lies. The world knows so little about the things that are important. It's time to listen to the Creator of beauty and believe what He says.  

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