You are beautiful

Mornings are my absolute favorite time of day. I wake up at 5am, walk my dogs, and come home to some absolutely perfect cups of coffee, if I do say so myself. The world is dark and still and quiet–like a secret that’s all mine–and I soak it in. Sometimes with a podcast on in my earbuds, sometimes NPR or an audio book, sometimes piano music, and sometimes–more often than not lately–no earbuds at all. Choosing instead to let the beauty of the morning–and the sights and sounds of the changing of the guard from night shift creatures to day shift creatures–be the soundtrack to my morning.

One morning not too long ago, I was about midway through my morning walk when the light of my headlamp fell onto something unexpected. It was a message on the sidewalk in front of me–written in sidewalk chalk–that read simply, “You are beautiful.” Struck by the small but powerful declaration, I took a moment, pulled out my phone, snapped a quick picture, and kept walking.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about that message in the dark. “You are beautiful.” How short and sweet, and how terribly complex all at the same time. It’s the kind of message that takes some softening into–especially in days like these and a world like ours that seems determined to harden us against it.

I think most of us have spent a lifetime believing that beauty is something we earn. We tell ourselves we’ll be beautiful when. When the number on the scale drops. When we find the right partner. When we get the promotion. When we finally feel successful enough, accomplished enough, admired enough. When life looks the way we thought it would. Then—and only then—will the message will be true.

The only problem with that logic is that the finish line keeps moving. You reach one milestone, and another one appears just a little farther down the road. You lose the weight, but now you’re supposed to maintain it. You find the relationship, but now you’re supposed to make it perfect. You get the recognition, but now you’re supposed to do even more. It never quite arrives.

And somewhere along the way, we start to believe that beauty is conditional. That it depends on performance. That it belongs to other people more than it belongs to us. That it’s more of a “girl thing” than a “guy thing” so it’s not really a message that speaks to everyone.

But what if the message wasn’t a goal? What if it wasn’t some next thing that we have to hustle for? What if it is just a FACT?

You are beautiful. Already. Right now. Exactly as you are. Not because you’ve arrived or because you’ve fixed everything. Not because you finally checked all the boxes. But because you exist. And your existence is the very image of the Divine. And that’s enough.

This isn’t just a sidewalk message, it’s a message written into some of the most powerful words in scripture (in my opinion). In the Beatitudes, Jesus blesses people just as they are, exactly where they are. He is especially blessing those who never seem to receive blessings otherwise. Who never seem to catch a break. Who may not be happy with who they are or have it all figured out where they are but who are loved and blessed by God all the same.

Remember, that message was written on a public sidewalk. Out in the open. Where anyone could read it. Where it didn’t belong to one person or one group or one kind of life. The message is for everyone.

It’s for the person who feels invisible. For the one who is exhausted. For the one who is carrying grief that nobody else can see. For the one who looks in the mirror and only notices what’s wrong. And yes—it’s even for the neighbor who always blows grass onto your sidewalk when they mow. It’s for the driver who just cut you off in traffic. It’s for that one person who always seems to get under your skin. The message is for them too.

Not because they behave perfectly or they make our lives particularly easy. But because they–too–are human, and they–too–are made of breath and bone and story, just like the rest of us.

See I think in a world that seems to increasingly mistake happiness for blessing, and that increasingly finds ways to exclude entire swaths of people from receiving blessing, and that does its best every day to tell us that blessing will come when we become that which we are not, that we all could stand to be reminded of a simple truth:  That no matter who we are or in what situation we currently find ourselves, we are loved and blessed beyond reason and beyond comprehension by God. We are blessed by the Love from which we came and to which we will one day return. Or to say it another way:  We are beautiful. Period. End of sentence.

I wonder sometimes if the whole message of the Beatitudes isn’t very similar to the whole point of the message written in sidewalk chalk. Maybe both beauty and blessing are not things we manufacture. Maybe they are things we recognize. Things we practice seeing—in ourselves and in each other—especially when it’s hardest to believe. Perhaps our blessedness and our beauty are inherent–a part of who we are–just waiting for us to realize it and then live like it. 

So, my friends, if this week you find that you–like me–need to hear again your own blessedness and your own beauty whispered into your bones. If you find that the finish line keeps moving. That the mirror feels unforgiving. Or that the world feels louder than your own sense of worth. Take in the fullness of this reminder–written in bright chalk. Offered without condition. Just for you AND for anyone who happens to pass by:  You are beautiful.

On the journey with you,
Pr. Melissa

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