AI or not to AI that is the question

​AI or not AI that is the question 

Fading Beauty

(This is my original post. )

Walking through the parks one day on my way to see my eldest daughter, for some unknown reason (not known to myself) I didn't have my camera attached to my arm, it was in my back pack. I stopped to watch a peacock butterfly which landed on my thigh, of course the minute I tried to reach for the camera it was gone.

The thing I noticed was that it's colours were fading and its wings were torn and I felt for this poor butterfly but you know no matter how much our outward beauty may fade, no matter how much parts of us refuse to function as they should the Lord Jesus looks beyond the outside beauty deep into the heart, where if we know Christ there is a priceless, ageless beauty that the world can't take away and doesn't understand.

I was reminded of the wonderful words of a chorus we used to sing at chapel when I was a child.

Let the beauty of Jesus be seen in me,

All His wondrous compassion and purity,

Oh, thou Spirit divine all my nature refine,

Till the beauty of Jesus be seen in me.

I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

Romans 12:1-

This is the AI version 

The late afternoon sun dappled through the ancient oak trees as I ambled through the park, a familiar route on my way to visit my eldest daughter. Usually, my reflex was as instinctive as breathing – my hand would find the familiar weight of my camera slung over my shoulder, its lens ready to capture the fleeting moments of beauty nature so generously offered. But today, something was different. For reasons that eluded my conscious mind, the camera remained nestled in my backpack, a silent observer rather than an active participant.

As I paused by a patch of vibrant wildflowers, a flash of iridescent blue and eye-like markings caught my attention. A peacock butterfly, its wings a magnificent tapestry of nature’s art, alighted on my thigh. A thrill, a familiar artistic urge, shot through me. I reached for where my camera should have been, my fingers fumbling for a strap that wasn't there. And as inevitably as the sun dips below the horizon, the butterfly, sensing my movement, took flight, disappearing into the emerald embrace of the foliage.

But before it vanished, I saw it clearly. The once-vibrant blues seemed muted, like a fading memory. Its delicate wings, the very essence of its fleeting glory, were torn, ragged edges hinting at battles unseen. A pang of sorrow, a genuine empathy, resonated within me. This creature, designed for such exquisite display, was marred, its outward beauty compromised.

And then, it struck me. This poor, broken-winged butterfly was a mirror, reflecting a truth I often overlooked in my pursuit of external aesthetics. We, too, can be like that butterfly. Our outward appearances may falter, our bodies may betray us, parts of us may cease to function as they once did. We see the world’s emphasis on flawless beauty, on the flawless functionality of youth. And it’s easy to feel diminished, to feel like our worth fades with every wrinkle, every ache, every imperfection.

But the Lord Jesus, I was reminded, looks beyond such superficialities. He doesn't see the fading colours of our outward selves, nor does He dwell on the torn edges of our human frailty. He looks deep into the heart. And if we know Him, if we have opened our hearts to His love and sacrifice, there resides within us a beauty that is priceless, ageless, and utterly impervious to the ravages of time and circumstance. This is a beauty the world, with its shallow metrics, can never truly comprehend or diminish.

The image of the butterfly brought back a flood of memories, a simple yet profound chorus from my childhood days in chapel:

"Let the beauty of Jesus be seen in me, All His wondrous compassion and purity, Oh, thou Spirit divine all my nature refine, Till the beauty of Jesus be seen in me."

It was a prayer then, a yearning. And now, standing in the park with the ghost of that butterfly’s beauty on my skin, it felt like a profound truth. The apostle Paul’s words in Romans 12:1-2 echoed in my mind, a divine instruction alongside the silent sermon of the butterfly:

"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."

My camera, forgotten in my backpack, was a symbol of my tendency to capture the observable, the tangible beauty. But the butterfly, in its fallen state, had shown me a deeper truth – that true beauty isn't about being flawless, but about allowing the unchangeable beauty of Christ to shine through our imperfect vessels, a testament to a love that sees beyond the outward, and into the eternal heart. And that was a beauty worth more than any photograph.

Which do you prefer?