I have a confession to make-I am a scavenger of beauty. I hunt beauty down (with my camera) and capture it in the most unlikely places. I do this because I have a theology that tells me that finding beauty is more about attitude than it is about the eye.

I have always loved the beach. True, you expect to find beauty at the beach, unless Speedos and hairy backs are in abundant supply, but still- the water, the surf, the shoreline, the driftwood, the soothing sounds and smells-that’s beauty. What I have noticed, though, since I have frequented several of Toronto’s beaches is that many of them are covered with what can only be considered construction waste. We are talking about bricks, concrete slabs, bits of broken tile, and even asphalt. They do this in areas where erosion is a problem.

This isn’t the kind of shoreline you would expect to find in most places. Neither is it the kind of shoreline you would really WANT to find in most places. After all, I don’t think asphalt is on anyone’s list of beautiful things, but look at the photo that accompanies this article. You may not be impressed by this bit of shoreline, but to me this collection of colours and shapes is uniquely beautiful. Look at the bright reds and the creamy yellows of the brick. Check out the flecks of yellow and white in the concrete. Notice how the individual pieces have been moulded and shaped into beautiful curves and orbs. The hard edges are gone. The utilitarian shapes have given way to free flowing arcs of grace. The manmade is still evident, but it clearly has become something more than what man can make.

What is the cause of this transformation? I could talk about how each of these diamonds in the rough was kissed by the elements. That sounds romantic, but the reality is that it’s all about friction. It’s about being on the front lines where you are hit hard by the wind and waves. It’s about being exposed to the pressures and influences that rub and grind the rough edges away and turn the utilitarian into graceful works of art.

I want you to think about this the next time you have a conflict in your life, or the next time you think about leaving your church because of “those difficult people”. I want you to think about this the next time you’re laughed at for sharing your faith, or the next time you make a sacrifice that goes unnoticed. God uses the difficulties found in our relationships to take off our rough edges and shape us into something more graceful. He uses the friction that comes into our lives to erode the manmade and reveal the divine.

James explains this process with these words: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4)

One of my pet peeves in ministry is the advent of what I call the Honeymoon Christian. I have learned to spot them a mile away. They come to your church and gush over how they like this and how they love that. They enjoy that brief period of time when, for them, your church still has that “new-congregation smell”. Then the friction comes. There’s something they don’t like, or something with which they don’t agree. There is their first conflict. Or maybe it’s just the first time they are asked to serve or give or sacrifice. The honeymoon is over and off they go- not willing to deal with the friction. That’s why they stay manmade with all their hard edges intact. They short-circuit their growth because when the wind blows and the waves start to rise, they run for a safe harbour and no reshaping takes place.

Life is tough. We all want to give up sometimes. Occasionally, we all want to go somewhere else or do something else. We all get “the grass is greener on the other side of the fence syndrome”, but don’t give up. Persevere! Realize that giving up or moving on isn’t the answer. God wants you on the front lines of your congregation. He wants you on the front lines of your neighbourhoods, your workplaces, your schools. He knows that being there creates a lot of friction, but that friction is protecting our world from further erosion and it’s also shaping you into something more graceful, something with greater humility-a vessel with a great capacity for His love.

Finding beauty is more about the attitude than the eye. Persevere and you’ll find the beauty, and bonus of bonuses, you’ll become more beautiful yourself!

I’ve noticed some trends (ruts) happening in my subject matter since I started taking pictures. It’s interesting how certain things seem to draw your attention time and time again. Of course, it’s autumn right now so I have more pictures of leaves than I know what do with. If I had them all printed out, I would wipe out all the trees for as far as my eye can see, so I am glad for the bits and bytes of digital. I am also drawn to architectural details like columns and stone and wood. Then there is the door. I didn’t realize how much I love doors before I got my camera.

I am always on the lookout for an interesting door. It could be an open door, a closed door, an elegant or stately door, or a run down, falling off the hinges monstrosity. They are all interesting to me. I guess this makes me a door man. I never thought of myself as a door man, maybe a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord, but not a door man. Just like Shrek, I am an onion with lots of layers!

What exactly it is that draws me to doors.

Well, first of all, doors can welcome you in. The first picture I have in my blog today is a warm inviting picture I took this week. It was a cold, dark night and this porch seems so inviting. It exuded warmth. It seems a safe harbour in the midst of a chilly voyage. I couldn’t help but think how pleasant it is for the residence to come home after a long, tiring day and be greeted by a threshold so beckoning. As soon as the key is turned in the lock, I’m sure that a feeling of warmth ensues.

Of course, not all doors are created equal. Some doors look foreboding. You really don’t want to enter in. You don’t want to know what is on the other side. Some doors are better ignored. No one wants to go through the doors of a hospital, a police station or a funeral home. These are all doors that we go through only reluctantly.

Maybe I like doors because they represent control. They allow or exclude access. When I am home for the night, and I close my door and lock it, there is a wonderful sense that I have now entered into my domain. I have a sense of security and comfort. The people on my side of the door are family, they’re loved ones, the people I want to share my life with.

This brings me to one of the most often misquoted verses in all of the Bible. In Revelation 3:20 Jesus said: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”

You’ve probably seen all those cheesy pictures depicting this scene. Jesus is knocking on a door, waiting for the person on the other side to open it. Often the door doesn’t have a handle on the outside of it to symbolize that Jesus won’t force his way in. He must be invited. Of course all this is true, but this verse is most often quoted in reference to someone becoming a Christian. You know, someone says at the end of a sermon, “Jesus is knocking on the door of your heart. Are you going to let Him in?”

All well and good, except that the context of this verse is that Jesus is knocking on the door of the church. He is knocking on doors that have already been opened to Him in the past, but now, for whatever reason, remain closed. The occupants inside are treating Jesus like someone selling insurance door to door. The curtains are drawn, the lights have been hastily turned off and the people inside are ignoring the knocks. You know, kind of like the beginning of “Everyone Loves Raymond”?

Why would one who has opened the door to Jesus before, not be eager to open it again? Well the context suggests a self-sufficient sense of pride. The people in this particular church were doing very well. They had nice houses with nice doors and they thought of themselves as nice people. But, actually, I think the key (get it) is that Jesus is knock on the door to come in and fellowship. He wants to relate and communicate. He wants to be part of the family.

Unfortunately, these people weren’t as interested in relating and listening to Jesus as they were in being saved by him. It was OK to have Jesus as an occasional guest, but they didn’t want him to be part of the family. Allow Jesus that kind of freedom in their lives and there is no way of knowing what would change and whose domain their homes would become!

If you are a follower of Christ, let me ask you, “How’s your open door policy with Christ these days?”

One of the things that I noticed upon returning to Toronto back in 2001, was the proliferation of tags, graffiti, and the assorted sprayings that adorn, or perhaps, better said, obscure many public surfaces. You can’t go by a newspaper box, mailbox, street sign, electrical box, or unprotected building without seeing something scribbled on it.

As I write today, we have some minor tagging on our church building. Some on our brick and some on our emergency exit doors. I know I have to get to work and clean that up soon or more will collect. Graffiti is like pigeons or seagulls. Once there is one, others follow and the mess only gets bigger!

I have read that both urban graffiti, as well as, litter have a huge psychological impact on a neighborhood. The more garbage and graffiti the higher the crime. Why is it that people feel the need to mark their (or at least what they think is their) territory? Is a tag a poor man’s monument? Do I look at a tag and go, oh, “Bif” or “Lester” is a great guy, after all, this stop sign was merely a serviceable stop sign until he came along and defaced it?

I take comfort in the fact that graffiti has always been a part of urban life. In World War 2, US soldiers often wrote the “Kilroy was here” slogan wherever they went. I also know that you can find ancient graffiti in Pompeii and elsewhere, much of which were political or editorial comments of one sort or another.

Perhaps tags and graffiti are a way, however destructive and ugly, of proving one’s existence. It seems to me, though, that public defacement for the sake of scribbling your initials, is just plain nasty and selfish. I wonder do taggers ever actually tag their own homes?

Still there is another side to this spraying scenario. Not all that is deposited in the community is ugly and destructive. Since coming to Toronto, I have also found amazing works of graffiti art. Piece large and grand and colourful. Some in secluded areas, public yes, but not in the open, more like in the alleyways and back of buildings. Some beautify abandon buildings others beautify garage doors. The picture accompanying this blog was taken by me in our neighbourhood and it is just one of several pieces that I have photographed and put on my flickr site. There is no doubt in my mind that some of this kind of creative, expressive work is wonderful and welcome. It doesn’t destroy public property, it respects public property. It doesn’t profane, it breathes life and communicates. Some of these pieces of street art, as I call it, make our alleyways art exhibits and they deserve to be appreciated and seen. It is a way of sharing ones’ life in a creative, expressive way.

How do you leave your mark each day? Does it contribute to what is beautiful or ugly? Is it selfish, or giving? Does it deface what is beautiful or does it enhance with new life? What are the effects of your emotional graffiti? Each one of us is part of many communities, we all contribute something, whether we want to or not. At the end of the day are you a tagger or an artist?