He Came to His Own

He Came to His Own.  Even the municipal water treatment pond can be beautiful in the frosty mist at sunrise. The blue heron searches for breakfast under the surface of the water unconcerned of the invisible reactions happening in the water’s chemistry. The cattails bend in the breeze unaware of the source of their nutrients. The warming sun causes a fog to rise from there just as intricate as any fog anywhere, whether it floats above cathedrals or cemeteries.

Beauty, like faith, hope, and love, as well as all things virtuous, descends from above; it does not ascend from below. Just as God is the source of goodness because he is infinitely good, so also God is the source of beauty because he is infinitely beautiful. In that sense, beauty is not found in the eye of the beholder, but in the character of the Creator. Beauty is God’s reflection. As such, beauty must retain a virtuous quality since God is the origin, the destiny, the center, the object, and the subject of all beauty. All beauty therefore derives from him. That doesn’t mean that all beauty must be religious in nature, which was the thought in the Middle-Ages. It only means that beauty’s job, in any sector, is to lift our gaze to our beautiful God who has made all things and is remaking all things beautiful. The opposite must also be true, if God is not seen or seeable, then any potential beauty that might have been present has been hijacked, commandeered, and steered by unworthy pilots to an unwholesome harbor.

Creation, then, is merely a repeater, an echo, a herald. Though shattered at the Fall, the creation still reflects the Creator in its razor-sharp shards. One of those million shards of a broken world is the water treatment pond on a December morning. By lifting the attention of passers-by to the Creator, then it is still doing its job, so to speak. If it can still do its job, so must we, reflecting the Creator and representing his character on earth, as it is in heaven.

When Christ came to earth at the first Christmas, the Apostle John makes an interesting observation. “He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him” (John 1:11). Grammar is important here—he came to his own things/places (neuter), and his own people did not receive him. The stars knew him. The animals knew him. The manger knew him. The trees of the field knew him. Dare we say that even the latrines and trash pits of the world knew him. These are examples of “his own things/places” (neuter), but “his own people did not receive him.” Therefore, it is not an exaggeration to say that while the inn at Bethlehem recognized him, the innkeeper did not welcome him. The beauty of the Incarnation did not direct the gaze of the little town of Bethlehem toward heaven (except for Mary, Joseph, some shepherds, and an uncountable multitude of angels). It could and should have. But the inhospitable people did not expect, did not see, and did not receive Messiah. Though they didn’t back then, we can today see the beauty of the long-ago moment, and glimpse the beautiful One who is reflected, even though he must be seen through the shards.