'There is no beauty .....' - by Eileen Padmore

On a recent visit to 'the Land', our bus deposited us at a quirky shop just outside Bethlehem.  Amongst a mix of hand crafted items and tacky tourist trophies I found this carved head of Christ.  Although repelled, I kept coming back until it became mine in exchange for cash that I'd intended to keep in my pocket - a case of heart over mind.

The carving spoke to me of a well remembered phrase from Isaiah 53:2 - one that had perplexed me from childhood:
' ..... there is no beauty that we should desire him.'  I use the King James version because that's the way I remember it.

The context is prophetic.  It concerns the suffering servant: the promised Messiah who we know as Jesus of Nazareth, carpenter, son of Joseph, born of the virgin Mary, son of man, son of God.

'There is no beauty that we should desire him.'  Really?  Can this be true?

The Contemporary English version leaves no doubt:  'He wasn't some handsome king.  Nothing about the way he looked made him attractive to us.'  So why did I grow up with some photo shopped image of a fair haired, blue eyed adonis - doubtful in view of his Jewish ethnicity?

'There is no beauty that we should desire him.'

If Christ existed from the beginning, as the Bible says - his permanent home in heaven - then in that celestial life he must be beautiful to behold.  Surely there is nothing less in Paradise?  Only light, glory, perfection of form - beyond dazzling to earthly eyes.

'There is no beauty that we should desire him.'

What happened?  The carving speaks of agony, abuse, disfigurement.  It screams terminal sorrow and defeat.  The brow is deeply furrowed whilst the mouth droops downward.  That which would be a beautiful woodgrain in an ornament made from the same block only serves here to disfigure.  Scars run across eyes, cheeks and lips in endless rivers of blood.

'There is no beauty that we should desire him.'

This face testifies to the desperate cost of the love that saved us from the black hole of our sin.  It tells me my sins carry a price tag that takes me into crimson - into debt I have no hope of paying back.

Can't God just pat us on the head and tell us to do better next time?  No.  Why?  Because sin is sin.  If you crash a friend's car, it may be insured, the friend may forgive you - but someone has to bear the cost of the repair bill.

Whenever I look at this representation of Christ, it reminds me of the repair bill God undertook through his son to rescue me, alongside all who turn to him.

He keeps a copy - filed under LOVE.





Eileen Padmore has retired from a life spent in health care and academia, having worked in Sierra Leone, Zambia, Eire, Northern Ireland (in the troubles) as well as in inner city Birmingham and Leeds.  She has had articles published in 'Woman Alive' and recently contributed to the popular ACW Lent Book.  Married for forty years to a professional musician, the family includes a feisty springer spaniel and a large African tortoise.