The Harsh Beauty of Life

When I was getting my undergraduate degree at Florida State University, I had an amazing American Literature professor, who was truly passionate about what he did, and who I became rather close to. 

One day, we were meeting in his office (which looked exactly like you would imagine an old school literature professor's office to look), and I noticed amid the clutter on his desk a little sign that said "Love It All." 

He noticed me looking at it and offered to tell me what it meant to him.  My professor then went on to share one of the most important lessons I would learn in life.  

He shared that for him, the sign was a reminder to love every aspect of his life, no matter what it was. Loving the good parts was easy, he told me, but loving the parts that aren't good, or that cause you pain, is much more difficult, but absolutely necessary if you want to have peace. 

Interestingly, I've learned over the years that you sometimes need some distance from the hard things to learn to love them, but if you practice at it, you can shorten that distance. The object is to be able to go through something difficult, and also see the beauty of life in the same moment.  

Anne Lamott once wrote:

“The first and truest thing is that all truth is a paradox. Life is both a precious, unfathomably beautiful gift, and it's impossible here, on the incarnational side of things. It's been a very bad match for those of us who were born extremely sensitive. It's so hard and weird that we sometimes wonder if we're being punked. It's filled simultaneously with heartbreaking sweetness and beauty, desperate poverty, floods and babies and acne and Mozart, all swirled together.”

Her words echo the mystery of life itself—a collision of joy and sorrow, glory and grief. Scripture also speaks to this paradox. Ecclesiastes reminds us, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Life is not neatly arranged but woven with strands of both laughter and lament.

Even in calamity, we glimpse God’s handiwork. The psalmist declared, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1). Creation sings of God’s beauty even when our hearts are heavy. 

In Romans, Paul insists that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28)—not because all things are good, but because God’s presence and purposes infuse even the hardest seasons with meaning.

The paradox Lamott describes—the ache and the awe mingled together—invites us to embrace all of life. Faith is not about denying pain or pretending the world is perfect. It is about learning to see the fingerprints of God in both the tears and the laughter, in the broken places and the blooming ones.

To love all of your life—the failures, the triumphs, the dark nights, and the sunrises—is to honor it as the gift that it is. The beauty is not in perfection but in God’s presence woven into it all.

May you learn to open your heart to every part of your story, even the chapters you’d rather skip. God is at work there, too.

Prayer

Lord, help me to see the beauty in all of life, even in the moments I resist. Teach me to trust that You are present in both joy and sorrow, weaving goodness out of my days. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. Where have you recently seen beauty in the midst of something difficult?

2. What parts of your life do you find hardest to accept, and how might you invite God into those places?

3. How can embracing life’s paradox—the sorrow and the sweetness—deepen your faith?