Think Christian; Live Beautiful
The Intuitive Appeal of Virtuous Living
Schoolkids and adults alike daydream about standing firm against a worthy enemy for a worthy cause in a worthy manner, even in the face of grave danger. But why? Is it just that people are captivated by danger? No, I think what really excites people of all ages is imagining the way they’ll act when confronted with danger. They’re intuitively attracted to the idea of embodying the virtue of bravery, so much so that they long to live their dreams in the real world. And for good reason: virtuous actions are similar to great works of art in that both are beautiful and provide pleasure to their beholders.
Why We’re Really Drawn to Virtue
Many people assume that we choose virtue for one of two reasons. The first group says we act virtuously simply because it’s morally right— “Conduct is what matters, not sensations.” But this view seems to ignore the experience of virtuous living for the actor. There is something intrinsic to right action that delights the person performing it.
The second group says we live virtuously because of some good outcome it produces. In that case, a person measures each action by its perceived results, then regularly chooses actions that promote the best outcomes. But this seems to make the virtuous actions irrelevant—treating moral goodness as a mere tool to achieve something else. And it doesn’t square with the daydreamer’s experience either. What captivates the dreamer isn’t the prospect of a victorious result; it’s the vision of acting bravely itself.
I propose a third option: we are drawn to virtue because virtuous activity possesses the objective, intrinsic quality of beauty. In other words, living rightly is beautiful—not just right or useful.
But how can I substantiate my claim, so that it’s more than just a nice theory?
What Makes Virtue Beautiful
Consider something you think is beautiful—a painting, sculpture, symphony, or perfectly executed 6-4-3 double play. Beautiful things tend to share certain qualities in common, including these three: integrity, order, and proportion. And like great art, virtuous actions possess these same qualities.
Integrity: All the Right Pieces
When something has integrity, all the necessary parts are present, and nothing essential is missing. Consider Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, for instance. Its beauty depends upon having every instrument and musical note present—the whole orchestra. Remove the oboes or omit the A notes, and the whole thing will be defective, lacking integrity.
Virtuous actions have integrity, too. Take bravery: it requires a person willing to act, a genuine threat, an action to take, and cause worth the risk. If any element is missing—act without danger or face danger without purpose—then it’s not brave. It’s defective.
Order: Everything in Its Right Place
More than having all the right parts, beautiful things are orderly, meaning that all the parts are arranged in proper relationship to each other. The full score of Beethoven’s Ninth has a very specific order, and its beauty rests upon each part being played at the appropriate time. Mix up the sequence, and the result is chaotic.
Bravery is orderly too. It requires standing firm against an opponent for a worthy cause. If this is reversed, and a person stands for a threat against a worthy cause, then what you have is foolishness, not bravery.
Proportion: The Right Degree of Everything
Finally, the elements of beautiful things are put together in just the right way relative to the whole. In the Ninth Symphony, different instruments play their notes at different volumes and tempos, each scaled to produce a pleasant harmony instead of noise. The proportion of the piece allows its story to be heard and experienced properly.
There is a proportionality to bravery as well. The degree of risk you accept should match the worthiness of the cause. Facing grave danger in defense of a trivial cause is dumb, not brave. But accepting little risk over an extremely important issue isn’t brave either—it’s cowardly. Real bravery is composed of parts properly scaled relative to the situation: standing firm against a worthy enemy for a worthy cause in a worthy manner, even in the face of grave danger.
Like great works of art, virtues which bear these three qualities—integrity, order, and proportion—are beautiful. This, I think, explains why we’re attracted to them, and why they delight us so much.
What Does This Have to Do with Me?
Christians are very familiar with the moral implications of our faith. We are consistently commanded to “put on” activity that accords with godly virtue (Colossians 3:12-17; Philippians 4:8; 2 Peter 1:5-8). And the right response to hearing the word of God is to obey it. But let me encourage you to take a moment to consider how God's heart shines through even in the substance of his commands.
If what I’ve argued is accurate, God hasn’t charged us to live a morally upright but dull life. Instead, he has commanded us to live beautifully, and as we do, we consistently experience the accompanying delight. That’s a good life, and evidence of a very kind God.
