Remembering Rome and the Origin of Beauty

Remember that one time we almost didn’t see the Sistine Chapel? (It’s a fun story.)

“That one time” happened less than three days ago and now I’m up at 7:30am-feels-like-1:30pm, 20 hours of travel removed from Rome and it kind of doesn’t feel real.

But, it was. And it was so worth it because the Sistine Chapel was perhaps the most overwhelmingly beautiful thing I have ever observed. The paintings – oh! yes, the paintings; but also the deep commitment among the men who took it from idea to reality, and the weight of the fact that I know this God whose story is laid out so beautifully before the eyes of thousands of people every day. I know this God and he’s infinitely more beautiful than even the grandest examples of human creation. He’s the origin. I, a self-supposed lover of Beauty, forget that far too often.

Standing, eyes upward, in the chapel with these things in my head, it was all I could do not to weep for the sheer too-big-for-words beauty of it all. In the end, sure, it would have been sad to visit Rome and miss the Sistine Chapel, but it’s heartbreaking to consider a life without any acknowledgement of ultimate Beauty.

(Psalm 27:4)
One thing I have asked of the Lord,
that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to inquire in his temple.


Remembering Rome and the Origin of Beauty | Lynnette Therese
Photo: Getty Images via The Huffington Post

for the labor of God is to trust

Ever since the evening of conversation and music Krystiana writes about here, the lyrics and lessons from that night have been rolling around in my head. I’m glad she got to writing about it first, because she articulates our little story of messy brokenness and hope in a way that is so honest and beautiful. (My friends are the coolest.) Please, enjoy — and I hope you’re encouraged as well.

Brim-Full with Immensity of Life

One of my favorite things about the beginning of break is the liberty-luxury of extended time for people, without the nagging pressure of Things I Ought To Be Doing Instead. It was 2am one night this week when I realized I had spent quite literally the whole day speaking/listening/learning/dreaming/gushing/ranting/relating with people I care about. Some of those conversations were planned, some were by accident, and all were wonderful.

Definitely in the accidental category was the moment when my dear friend Lynnette (who writes here, among other places, and whose friendship is one of my favorite things that has happened in college) and I realized that we had both gotten ourselves into the same embarrassing, irresponsible predicament on the same day. Along with some wide eyes and grimaces, the situation sparked a deeply refreshing conversation about how somehow, despite being good at quite a lot of things, we are basically…

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