Innocent Palestinians and Israelis being slaughtered; bombs raining down on apartment buildings in Kyiv; Indian Christians being raped and murdered; gangs killing each other in Manenberg, South Africa; tribal political polarization in America to the point of sheer hatred; disheartened Millennials and GenZs cynical about achieving the American dream.

There is a lot that is not beautiful about our world. There is a lot to be discouraged about. As my dad sometimes says “hmm, hmm, hmm … what’s this world coming to?” And he has seen a lot at 93.

I spend a lot of time these days not in a good headspace about what I see around me. And yet, are there still beautiful things?

From the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s ballad “Seven,” she asks “are there still beautiful things?” Contextually that song seems to be about her remembering her innocent, carefree childhood, including friends and the dreams you share and promises you make with them. She was never more carefree and in-the-moment than when she was swinging seven feet high over a creek in Pennsylvania.

And why is a 58-year-old studying Taylor Swift lyrics? Well, it helps to have a 28-year-old “Swifty” daughter who teaches me a lot about life. Plus, I find many of Taylor Swift’s lyrics brilliantly poignant. 

I, too, remember “sweet tea in the summer.” Saturdays spent on Lake Hartwell, shoeless, boating, skiing, swimming, mud fights at the end of the cove, swinging way out over the water on a rope swing with my best friend John, holding on for dear life to get far enough out over the water. I remember playing freeze tag in those summer South Carolina late evenings, where it wasn’t dusk until 9pm and the crickets and tree frogs cheered loudly in the background as you played.  

I don’t think my adolescence was exactly carefree – by middle school I was already darkening toward the harsh world I experienced – but those lyrics do speak to some of my early years and in-the-moment moments.

Do I want to go back to those early years, of freeze tag and rope swings? Alternatively, do I despair in the not-beautiful around me?

About twenty years ago, I chose and articulated a core purpose for my life: to help connect people from around the world with each other; to help overcome all the things that make us different and that cause us to hate, maim, and kill each other by seeing our common humanity. And that maybe, just maybe, if I could play my small connecting part, we would stop killing each other. And that we would help create beautiful things.

And then ten years ago, I optimistically saw the possibility and promise of technology to aid in connecting us, believing that the democratization of access to information and people through technology would begin to break down traditional nation structures, languages, and cultures and create new connectedness among people, helping to fulfill on my core purpose. Around the world, the previously marginalized would begin to have agency to access services, petition their governments, create new forms of employment, and promote common interests regardless of geography, language, or socio-economic status.

A few years on, that optimism was misplaced, or at least it wasn’t all positivity. It turns out there was a dark side to technology. Here is what actually happened in the past ten years: while access to technology did break down many of these historical things that kept us apart, it opened the door to a new kind of dark tribalism, promulgation of misinformation and disinformation, and encouraged separate-ness; and it has actually fueled hatred and division instead of the other way around. In fact, COVID and the isolation of people from each other that came with it worldwide exacerbated this separateness.

And yet, are there still beautiful things? Are there still common elements of humanity we share?

There is a comparison I’m going to make that is not fully consistent but does illustrate our common humanity. When my wife and I are in South Africa about a third of each year, we spend time in a township called Manenberg. In Manenberg, you see run down, dilapidated buildings, trash piling up, drugs, violence and death, and you sometimes see an emptiness in the eyes of the people of Manenberg. No hope.

Also, in the past 18 months we made two trips to the rural mountains of West Virginia. Once vibrant towns are dead or dying. Houses falling down, trash piling up, jobless people that are left with nothing to do. Opioid addiction is rampant. Look around and you see – no hope. They are the forgotten, the left behind.

As different as Manenberg South Africa and rural West Virginia are, they share some common characteristics.

And yet, in that dire circumstance, if you look again, you can see there are still beautiful things. Small pockets of people helping each other, people working to create employment, end drug dependency, stop violence.        

Are there still beautiful things?

My answer today looking into 2024 is YES, IF you seek them out with intentionality. It takes daily looking to find these beautiful things; sort of like looking for those hidden words or symbols buried in a sketch.

I certainly don’t have that carefree, “sweet tea in the summer” perspective on the world and its people. Since those days swinging out on the rope swing over Lake Hartwell, I have seen lots of darkness. I’m not sure I could or should ever look again at the world with a child’s carefree innocence, but I am learning to look with intentionality for the beautiful things that are there. I have recently started a new daily early morning practice of writing down “Are there still beautiful things?” and then briefly jotting down the things I am seeing right then.

So why bother to look if it’s a mostly broken world already? Because seeing the beautiful things and holding onto them helps us confront the not-beautiful around us. It’s like the keel of a boat going out to be buffeted around by waves and wind. The keel holds the boat steady in the water; in fact, even if the boat were to flip sideways, the keel deep underwater helps bring the boat back upright. Looking for and seeing the beautiful things helps me get up every day to pursue my life’s purpose, knowing that those beautiful things will keep me afloat.

Swift says she reached her peak at “seven feet” over the creek. I wonder how many of us reached our metaphorical peak in childhood, when we could “scream ferociously” and before we “learned civility.” I wonder whether we have lost the ability to see the beautiful things and, importantly, help create those beautiful things.

The days are long gone when life was carefree and the most I had to worry about was when to let go of the rope swing. Yet, I’d like to live my life having not yet peaked; recognizing the reality of the darkness around me but also finding and creating the beautiful; and at 58 (soon to be 59) having the wisdom to hold both of these truths at the same time.

So here’s to sweet tea in the summer…