Loveliness, Longing, and Peace

Philippians 4:8: “Whatever is lovely…think about these things.” 

I wonder sometimes what the Apostle Paul meant in Philippians 4:8 by the word “lovely.” I have used that word to describe the sight of my granddaughter’s face (you can see why), the sound of a White-throated Sparrow’s song, the taste of my wife’s apple pie, the scent of lilac blossoms, and the feel of a soft evening breeze. Are these sensory perceptions what Paul has in mind? I would guess so, at least in part—and certainly if he had ever seen my granddaughter’s face or tasted my wife’s apple pie! 

But it seems that Paul also uses the word “lovely” to draw us to some lofty desires far beyond our physical sensations. In Philippians 4:7, he has just pointed the Christians in Philippi to “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” and which “will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” And he is about to urge them in 4:9 to practice what he has taught them and to do it expecting that “the God of peace will be with you.” The “peace of God” guarding our hearts and minds in Christ, and “the God of peace” being with us—these appear to be complementary facets of what Paul wants for the Philippian Christians as he encourages them to think about what is lovely. 

This is intriguing, especially because peace has been sorely lacking for us personally and societally for many months now. What connection is there between the scent of lilac blossoms and the peace of God or the God of peace? 

To find out, we should start with Paul’s language. The Greek word translated “lovely” is prosphilēs. Philippians 4:8 is the only New Testament instance of this adjective, but, including its use here and in other literature, it has the sense of “pleasing” or “agreeable” or “lovely.” It is a compound word coupling a preposition pros (“at, to, beside, with”) with a verb phileō (to like or love). The adjective describes a quality of being attractive or desirable. Of all the categories that Paul names in this verse, “lovely” most invites me to “think about” what is desirable. What attracts me? What do I love at, or love to, or love beside or with? What longings shape my heart? Paul urges me to “think about” these questions. He urges an active engagement, letting my mind dwell on the object of my longings.

Calvin philosopher James K. A. Smith has asserted that longing is fundamental to human nature, and that an understanding and recognition of it should shape what we do. He proposes that we reorient education with a “philosophical anthropology,” seeing humans not just as beings who “desire,” but as beings with desires that aim at something “ultimate.” As a result, education (especially Christian education) must be approached as a task of formation rather than imparting information, as a “pedagogy of desire” rather than an informing of minds.

Smith’s point is vitally important, and it flows naturally from Philippians 4:8. When Paul urges me to think about whatever is lovely, he is urging me to be intentional about my formation into a person who desires and loves what is truly lovely in and beyond this world.

Realizing this, I now cultivate practices which help me to dwell regularly on what is lovely. I have long found Scripture and prayer to be the strongest help for me in this. But Paul invites us to be drawn to God also through literature, music, community, Sabbath, giving, nature, and so much more—“whatever” is lovely, think about such things. 

Last year, on a Carver Project faculty retreat, we discussed The Common Rule by Justin Whitmel Earley, which is about forming “habits of purpose.” What Earley calls “habits of purpose,” Smith calls “liturgies,” which I find a helpful way to think about the practices and actions of our daily lives. As Smith explains, “Our love is shaped, primed, and aimed by liturgical practices that take hold of our gut and aim our heart to certain ends.” Tish Harrison Warren calls this the “liturgy of the ordinary.” These writers, with their language of habits and liturgies forming desires and loves, offer a fitting description of what Paul urges in Philippians 4:8. To practice an intentional, regular focus on whatever is lovely is a liturgical practice for one’s formation into a person who actually desires what is lovely indeed.

And what is most lovely, most desirable? God. Whether my liturgy engages me in the enjoyment of my granddaughter’s lovely face or the White-throated Sparrow’s lovely song, I find myself still longing for something beyond. I can direct my longing toward God, to love at him and to him and beside him and with him, for he is present, behind and with and through me. I come to realize that God is the source of the loveliness that I see or hear, that he is the perfection of all loveliness, and that he is the one for whom I am ultimately longing.  

I am now 76 years old, and I’ve been a Christian for 56 of those years. With far more to learn of loving God, I can at least say that I am in the process of learning to love God who is loveliest of all and most worthy to be loved above all else. I am learning that God is my highest good and my greatest treasure. He is becoming my chief love, and I can testify to you something of how it’s happening. It requires the loss of other loves, or their transformation into a better, God-centered love. Some of my loves have been falling away or have been transformed through my ongoing practice of liturgies. Other loves, idolatrous ones, have been mercifully torn away through suffering which has driven me to love God above all other loves. Whether by liturgies or by suffering, I am learning that God is the One who satisfies my longing. In that satisfied longing, I get a taste of a wholeness or completeness which the Hebrew Scriptures call shalom. It is a wholeness that harmonizes my loves and my longings. English does not have a single word to capture the Hebrew notion, but shalom is often translated “peace.” I am finding just what Paul said I would find, that as I think about and consider what is lovely, the God of peace attends me and abides with me. 

What a lovely discovery indeed!

George Stulac is the former pastor of Memorial Presbyterian Church, a faculty minister with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship, and ministry partner with The Carver Project.