[6 min read—client resource]
There’s a mural in Durham, North Carolina that I always loved seeing when I lived there. The mural is painted on the side of an old tobacco warehouse. It’s brightly painted with flowers and says, “Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard.” I don’t know what implication the artist had in mind, but I think this sums up human existence pretty well. There’s so much pain and suffering and brokenness in our world. And yet there’s an overwhelming amount of beauty and goodness, if we have eyes that are trained to look and ears that are intent to listen. As Romans 8 so beautifully walks us through, there is both groaning and glory in the world we see around us. All creation groans as it waits for Christ’s return, and we join creation in groaning for the completion of our adoption and redemption. “Come, Lord Jesus,” we rightly say. And yet life is not only hard. God in his kindness has not left us as orphans, but has left us beauty and goodness on this earth. He’s left all sorts of traces of Eden for us to enjoy that we might ultimately worship and glorify him. His fingerprints are all over creation, even as it groans for restoration and redemption. Life is beautiful. Life is hard.
Speaking of hard, Philippians chapter 4 is a hard one. It’s a wonderful chapter that we unfortunately have a propensity for misquoting and misrepresenting (I’m looking at you, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”). Have you ever wondered what on earth Paul is talking about in Philippians 4:8 when he tells us to think about “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise”? If you’re like me, you may lazily think, “Okay, so think about God and the gospel and spiritual realities. Those must be the “whatever’s” Paul has in mind.” Maybe, at least in part, and definitely as a starting point. Perhaps you feel insulted that I chose the word “lazily” there, but I am convinced that sometimes we miss the beauty and detail of verses like these when we jump only to grand, “spiritual” implications. What if Paul has more in mind than just turning our minds toward spiritual realities? It can’t be less than that, of course, but could it be more? Is there more that is lovely and true and honorable that we can pay attention to in our every day lives and in doing so, give glory to our Father in heaven?
In her book Liturgy of the Ordinary, Tish Harrison Warren says that we often have a theology of suffering that is too big for our actual, day to day lives. What she means by this is we pay so much attention to the grand scale—the big problems, the big questions—that we end up missing out on small scale practicality. Sure, we need to have a robust theology of suffering that allows us to stand firm in Christ when the worst of suffering comes knocking at our door. But we also need a theology that allows for us to deal with day to day annoyances, disappointments and failures. Harrison Warren says elsewhere that “the only place for God to meet me is in my actual, every day life.” This means that if my day is turning out to be quite an unremarkable, ho-hum day, I need God to meet me there as much as I need him to meet me in the drama of a season of grand suffering.
I would flip this argument toward the positive, too. Of course we need to train our minds to think about the grand things of God. There’s a reason we need reminders about the big picture, about what this life here is all about. We need to remember the grandeur of Christ sitting on his throne, the depths of his sacrifice on the cross, and the glory of his resurrection and ascension. We need to remember daily that Jesus is building and sustaining his church, that he’s reconciling all things to himself, and that he is coming again to judge both the living and the dead. And at the same time, we still live here, on this earth, in this neighborhood, in this house or apartment.
Keep this in mind: when we read the great accounts of the saints who have gone before us in Scripture, it was often years, if not decades, that passed between the monumental moments of faith and triumph we read. Scholars believe David could have been fleeing from Saul for nearly a decade. That’s 10 years between being anointed as king by God himself and actually taking over as king of Israel (not to mention his life being threatened repeatedly, fleeing from city to city, and living in caves). Like us, David’s life was largely a compilation of ordinary moments of trust and faithfulness as he waited on God to be God in his life. And because David is human, I’m sure he experienced lots of ordinary human things, too, as he waited.
So, coming back to Philippians 4:8, what if the “whatever’s” Paul has in mind aren’t just the grand things of God that take our breath away (as they should), but also every day, ordinary moments in human existence that sadly get missed since we label them as too small and insignificant? What if the lesser is actually intertwined in the greater? What on this earth could be true, honorable, just, pure, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise?
I think of my infant son who often refuses to nap anywhere but my arms because that’s where he feels safe and warm. I think of his little snores and squirms as he gently wakes and resettles. It’s the purest form of dependence, and reminds me that if I who am evil (compared to God, that is) and know how to give good gifts and care to my children, how much more does my Father in heaven love to give good gifts when I ask (Luke 11:13)?
I think of my son squealing with delight when his dad does something funny. His joy is pure.
I think of people who work tirelessly toward improving the lives of those around them—police officers who protect their communities, nurses who carefully place an IV in a patient’s arm, the animal shelter volunteer who fosters an abused animal, the person at the mall who returns a lost wallet—all of them enacting some form of justice, doing what’s right in a world where life is hard.
I think of my great grandfather-in-law who worked hard all his life as a brick layer during the day. Many have said his work was excellent and that a lot of the buildings he worked on are still standing solid to this day. What is most excellent in my mind though is that he would come home from a hard day of work and continue laying limestone on his own property to build a house for his family. He worked very hard to provide a lovely home for his wife and children. He was an honorable man.
I think of the guy I saw on my neighborhood walk today who was crouched down low petting a neighborhood cat, slowing down and pausing from wherever he was headed in order to simply enjoy a strange creature he’d never met.
I think of the butterflies I often see on walks as they fly whimsically side by side past the flowers.
I think of the towering redwood trees where I live in California. They are a clear demonstration of what God has deemed “good” in this world. I think of the way the sunlight hits the ground in the evening at the end of summer, where warmth collides with the encroaching cool, fall air.
I think of the still, quiet nights during my time in North Carolina when I would get back into my car after a night of fellowship with friends, where all I could hear in the thick humidity was the slow chirps and hums of crickets and frogs. I think of fireflies—such a remarkably ordinary creature that somehow fill summer evenings with more beauty and nostalgia.
I think of a well-made meal prepared by my friends who are impressive home chefs. I think of the laughter we shared as we ate excellent food together.
There are so many small, ordinary details that are true, honorable, just, pure, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. Our God is worthy of praise for all of these things, and the more we think on even these small details, the more we are inclined to praise a grand and holy God. The lesser can point us to the greater—God himself, the source of all that is good, true, honorable, just, pure, commendable, excellent and worthy of praise.
Life is so hard. Life is so beautiful. May we not miss the details of God’s glory as we await his return. They’re a foretaste of heaven.