“I long for a charged encounter with whatever is so lovely I find myself transformed.”

-Luci Shaw, “Wave Action”

Last week Drew and I visited my grandparents in Montana. Being together brought us much joy as we laughed and reminisced about the wonderful life they’d led—a life that has blessed and shaped my own. But our time was also filled with honest conversation about the painful reality of death. As we left my grandparents’ home one evening, my heart was full of both joy and sorrow, levity and heaviness.

Upon stepping outside, we were met with a humid warmth that soaked into our skin, smelling of earth and grass. We scurried into our car moments before the first raindrops fell. “I’ll drive,” I said, little guessing how difficult it would be for me to keep my eyes on the road as we journeyed home.

Montana is often called “Big Sky” country; the land is wide, wide open and the sky feels endless. It is easy to get swept up and captivated in this beauty—a beauty that is big enough to hold everything it touches. On this particular night, the sun was setting in one half of the expansive sky and a storm of brooding blackness was gathering in the other. Somehow, Drew and I found ourselves driving home on the highway that followed the dividing line of this wondrous, kaleidoscopic sky.

On our left, dark clouds swelled above vibrant canola fields, filling the sky like a bruise—grey and black, with hints of blue shining beneath. Full of fury, towering clouds released torrents of water on the land below. Purple veins of lightning raced across the black canvas of storm following low rumbles of thunder.

On our right, the setting sun lit the sky with soft tones of peach and yellow. Creamy rose-tinged clouds and far-reaching fingers of light hovered over one side of the valley as the sinking sun bathed everything it touched in gold. In a final blaze of glory, mountains and plains alike gleamed in a single, burning flame.

Just when I thought I could not possibly take in another ounce of beauty, rainbows appeared in the distance. All around us, ribbons of colored light arced across the sky as the rain and sun danced together. I had never seen so many elements of contrasting beauty at once: storm and sunset, mountain and valley, rainbow and lightning, darkness and light. Drew took pictures for both of us as I struggled to keep my eyes on the road. This tremendous beauty called to me, and I ached to get out of the car and be part of it.

Amid hydroplaning and mild whiplash from rapidly sneaking peeks out the window, I threatened with desperation “I’m gonna pull over! I HAVE TO PULL OVER!” while secretly praying, “God, please make the beauty last long enough for me to take pictures of it. And please don’t let us die.”

Eventually, we did pull over. The beauty had waited for us. Reverently, we stepped into a world of gold-gleaming rain, mist and shadow, flower and field. It was sheer gift—all of it—and I felt both unworthy and absolutely destined to be standing in the midst of it, soaking it in as my soul sent roots of faith a little deeper into the firm earth of God’s promises.

While finishing our drive home, I marveled at how these extraordinary elements came together as one and were made even more beautiful by their joining—a symphony of contradictions. It felt as though the tumultuous storm around me was mirroring the storm within me, making space for tears I didn’t know I needed to release, creating room for joy and wonder to rush in alongside the pain.

As raindrops drummed our car and lightning flashed across the soft edges of cascading rainbows, I knew we had been given a taste of the wild and tender beauty of God—brilliant and shining, soft and thundering all at once. Gentle in its invitation, passionate in its embrace.  A visual promise of the life to come.  

* * *

I’d known it before, but am sure of it now:

Beauty is not a luxury. It is a necessity. We need beauty—desperately. Here are a few reasons why:

• Beauty give us permission to pause and rest in a reality bigger than ourselves, showing us our small yet significant part in the eternal dance of the cosmos.

• Beauty shows us that there are things at work that we do not have to understand—things we only need to receive and say, “thank you.”

• Most importantly, beauty points us to the power and glory of the eternal One who sits on the throne, surrounded by rainbows.

When the prophet Ezekiel visits the throne room of God in a vision, the best he can do is describe God with elements of beauty found on earth:

From what appeared to be his waist up, he looked like gleaming amber, flickering like a fire. And from his waist down, he looked like a burning flame, shining with splendor. All around him was a glowing halo, like a rainbow shining in the clouds on a rainy day. This is what the glory of the Lord looked like to me.

(Ezekiel 1:27)

Hundreds of years later, the apostle John receives a similar vision of heaven:

I saw a throne in heaven and someone sitting on it. The one sitting on the throne was as brilliant as gemstones—like jasper and carnelian. And the glow of an emerald circled his throne like a rainbow.

(Revelation 4:2-3)

The one who wraps himself in light, who surrounds himself with rainbows, who speaks through thunder and lightning, whisper and wind, is seated on the throne in heaven—preparing a place for us, even now.

God’s beauty on display in creation teaches us that pain and death are not the end of our story.

* * *

Earlier that evening, I had knelt beside my grandmother as she lay on the couch, tears of pain streaming down her face. She didn’t want to suffer in her body any longer. As I witnessed her pain, I didn’t want her to either. In that moment, I said the only thing I could think of to say—the thing I desperately needed to be true:

“This isn’t the end of your story.”

A few hours later, I found myself standing in a field of rainbows. It was as if the curtain had lifted for a single and shining moment, revealing the glorious throne room of God. I was in the presence of the Holy One—surrounded by color, bathed in light. All of it cried “Holy, Holy, Holy.” As peace flooded my soul, I knew it in the depths of me:

This isn’t the end of our story.
Pain, suffering, and death do not have the final word.
Healing, beauty, and eternal life do.

One day, God will make all things new.
On that day, we will join with all creation in singing:

Blessing and honor and glory and power belong to the one sitting on the throne
and to the Lamb forever and ever!

(Revelation 5:13)

Amen.