Beauty Over Efficiency
This morning, I dropped our family vehicle off at our local mechanic to get some brake work done. Afterward, I decided to walk home. It’s a habit of mine; it only takes about twenty minutes, and I can walk the majority of the way through our beautiful local park.
As I turned onto the road running alongside the park, I had a choice: stay on the pavement or step into the park and follow the more winding path, which would add another five minutes or so to my walk.
My first inclination was to stay on the road and book it home. Isn’t that interesting? I wasn’t even pressed for time, yet saving those five minutes felt like the route I should take—despite the beauty I knew I'd experience on the winding park path. After taking my first few steps along the pavement, I paused, changed course, and headed into the park.
The Five-Minute Trap
I suspect many of us do this. We are so conditioned to save time, increase productivity, and maximize efficiency that we routinely sacrifice a deeper longing to experience the beauty of the world.
I believe choosing the scenic route is a sacred invitation. It's an invitation to slow down and choose to engage in the wonder of life, even within the mundane, everyday moments. This is one of the ways God loves us.
Built for Speed, Not Soul
Modern Western culture, however, pushes us away from this longing, labeling it as wasteful. We can see this messaging reflected in how our architecture has changed. Consider the grand cathedrals of the past, with their soaring flying buttresses and expansive frescoes, and compare them to the modern megachurch, which often looks like a glorified commercial warehouse with minimal stained glass. I’m sure the modern building is incredibly efficient—but at what cost?
Forging Places of Epiphany
What I’m trying to convey reminds me of a passage I read recently from Seth Haines in the book he wrote with his wife Amber, The Deep Down Things, where he reflects on Jesus retreating to the wilderness:
“There, away from the business of life, in the deep silence of ink-blue sky pinpricked by stars, Christ communed with the Divine Love. Both spaces held a certain kind of beauty. Both spaces were dedicated. Both spaces could be places of epiphany.
Human as we are, embodied as we are, we crave dedicated spaces, and our modern world proves this truth. We erect cubicles in corporate offices for dedicated workspace. We tier recliners in an oversized room with an oversized screen because we like to be comfortable when we watch the summer blockbuster. We train our bodies in gyms with treadmills or CrossFit boxes with kettlebells or yoga studios with blocks and mats. Social media platforms are marked by memes, opinions, avatars. Shouldn’t we have dedicated spaces for silence, meditation, and prayer? Shouldn't we have embassies of heaven? Shouldn’t those embassies convey the beauty of heaven, draw us to quiet contemplation of the place where the eternal glory of God dwells?
I was only a child when I visited the gallery, when I had my first real artistic epiphany. I was only a child when I attended my first Mass, but there was something about the beauty of that space that made sense to me too. Both spaces drew me in, both spoke to me, even as awkward as I felt. In that church, I longed for things of heaven, even if I couldn’t have said it with so much clarity. And I still do.
Over three decades later, I stand in the presence of sacred art and recite prayers with my family and friends. We all go to the table together, and there I come into the epiphany of heaven. I’m part of an eternal family, one that will one day be perfectly reconciled to one another, perfectly reconciled to Christ, perfectly beautiful.”
Living in the Slow Noticings
It is in these slow, quiet observations that we are most primed to connect with God—to sit back and consider how He is loving us in the present moment. That is where I want to be. That is how I want to live. And if that means putting off a few tasks for another day, so be it. After all, what is it to gain the whole world if it means forfeiting your soul?
