Barbie Loflin

Many have asked me about the origin of the song Beautiful You Are. Some of you know it was birthed from a dream. So, I thought I would share it with you, offering only the charge to weigh everything in your own spirit, for that is what we are called to do with Spirit matters… and leave the rest to the Father.

Love you guys!

Beautiful You Are – The Dream

The room was quiet as I drew the covers up to my chin. My mother, whom I was visiting at the time, loves to keep the house cold at night so I burrowed deeper in to the downy blankets as my mind began to drift into the soft recesses of semi-consciousness. I remember thinking, God, You are so beautiful to me… beautiful, You are so beautiful. As my eyes closed and sleep came, my spirit man soared and completely explored what my conscious mind could not. I journeyed into the fierce beauty of God.

This is my testimony.

I stood as an onlooker… a silent witness to the sacred goings on around me. I knew that I slept, but at the same time knew that what I was seeing was very real; more tangible than the touchable and more fluid than water through the fingers.

The expanse of space before my eyes was completely white, yet shape and shadow, form and movement could be easily seen, or perhaps a better word would be sensed. I had a keen awareness of the center point from which all flowed in this place – life, breath, wholeness…joy. I knew without anyone telling me that the place I stood within was Holy, yet completely accessible. There was Sovereignty in communion with fragile humanity. To describe the scene in fleshly terms falls pitifully short of the profoundly peaceful, exquisitely detailed perfection of the atmosphere in which I found myself.

The Throne sat in the center of the space. I could not see it, though I knew it was directly to my right. I knew He sat upon it… though I could not see Him. I looked directly into the place in which I knew Him to be, still, my eyes were unable to see His beauty. I found Him beautiful, nonetheless. The very breathe of God filled the room with piercing clarity and reverent awe.

How can I explain what I knew, but could not see? How does one give a description of spiritual sights they did not see, but saw nonetheless?

Just as the Throne sat within the center of the space, white, yet translucent; without actual substance, but substantial all the same, so did the crowd surround the Throne. For defining purposes I will call them the cloud of witnesses. Beginning at a circumference of about 100 feet and spreading for as far as the eyes could see, this invisible, present throng stood silent, yet their praise was felt through every fiber of my being. They encompassed a limitless space, circling the unseen but known.

I watched as one mesmerized as one small person emerged from the crowd. Walking forward, head bowed, the small one approached the foot of the Throne and the One Who sat upon it. I could see that the small one held something within her hands; something which she longed to lay at the feet of The Holy One. She beheld the gift as if it might not be enough, and struggled with the releasing of it because of its smallness. The desire to give was greater than the gift she was able to bring. Still, she offered it with words I could not hear, from a heart that sang in worship to Him Who sat upon the Throne. As the gift touched the feet of God, the eyes of the giver lifted to the One Who received. An absolute liquid radiance filled her face as she beheld Him and she began to sing to the Father… Beautiful, You are… Beautiful, You are… Beautiful, You are, to me…

The crowd began to sing the song as if they had sung it for ages; their voices lifting in sweet unison with the small one… Beautiful, You are, Beautiful, You are. Beautiful, You are to me.

The One Who sat upon the Throne accepted the gift and the worship and He was pleased. Fulfillment, unequaled, poured through the small one as she gazed upon her Beloved. She rose slowly, eyes fixed upon Him, and began to walk away; her face turned toward Him, looking back over her shoulder as she walked… gazing upon a visage I as yet, had not been able to look upon.

I wondered what gift she had offered. Just as the thought ran through my mind, I knew the answer: “All she had.”

My heart pounded as I watched to see what would happen next. Again, I watched one leave the crowd and walk forward, hands cupped as if carrying an offering. This one walked as if wounded. His legs did not move as one in good health. Haltingly he approached, his gaze turned downward. Before He reached the feet of the Holy One, he stumbled and fell. As he fell, he made no move to catch himself, but instead, released the offering toward the feet of God. Facedown he lay, his offering tumbling over the feet of Holiness. As the simple offering touched the holy, strength came into the man and he rose to hands and knees. He sat back upon his heels and gazed for the first time into the face of the Holy One. Falling forward, this time of reverent awe, I heard the smallest sound begin to come from the lips of the man – words I could not hear, but understood. Then, just as the small one had done, he began to sing: Beautiful… Beautiful… Beautiful, You are Beautiful.

The throng joined in the awed chorus, testimonies acknowledging what their spirits knew full well… Beautiful, You are… Beautiful, You are…

When I looked again upon the man, he stood full height and strong backed. Muscle and sinew had formed upon what had once been weakened flesh. His voice strong now, he sang in a rich baritone, issuing forth from a deep well… Beautiful, You are… Turning, he began to walk the way of the first, turning to glance over His shoulder at The One. Whole now, I could not stop the thought, What did he bring, Lord?

Again, I knew the answer before speaking, “The rest”.

I had no need to ask what He meant, for I have all too often heard the words of the Spirit within speaking those same words to me… What about the rest?

Finally, I watched as what appeared to be a beautiful woman, separated herself from the cloud of witnesses. Walking forward, her gaze was fixed upon Him from the very first moment she stepped out. She knew Him well. He had truly captivated her heart. She moved with a graceful rhythm to her step, almost dancing as she brought her offering. Her eyes never left His until the moment she stood at His feet. Without hesitation she fell to her knees, her arms coming around His ankles as her tears flowed over His feet. Her face resting against his calve, His garment came around her shoulders. He covered her, for He was her Kinsman Redeemer. Her tears mingled with the offering of fragrant oil she held in her hand. She began to pour the oil over His feet. The small vile became an endless supply, and its fragrance began to fill the nostrils of the masses. The woman bent forward, kissed the top of each foot and resumed her enveloped place at His feet. With tears streaming down her face, dampening the precious Kinsman garment with which He had covered her, she began to sing, Beautiful, You are… Beautiful, You are…, Beautiful, You are to me…

The oil pooled and gathered, increased and began to flow. Tears and fragrant oil began to reach the feet of the throng, and they began to sing full voiced. Beautiful, You are…

Lord, I thought, what did she bring? What could have possibly brought that would release the throng in this way? I simply heard, “Her testimony.”

I knew He spoke of her love for Him. It was her testimony. It was who she had become in Him. She was His, and the testimony of this redemption was great.

As the space filled with the purest expression of what I can only describe as the wetness of worship, the cloud of witnesses began to sing their own testimony. Each testimony was different, but as it issued from their lips, the song became the same… Beautiful, You are…

In this moment of acute awareness the unseen somehow became visible, and faith became sight. The room filled with His presence and His fragrance became a part of me.

Without seeing, I saw, and without touching, I felt, and the song began to rise within me. I heard myself singing, as my spirit stood witness to the offerings of thousands, and I knew for certain what I had always thought I’d known… He is Beautiful: Fiercely, marvelously, beautiful. He is unparalleled in every imaginable way.

The sound of my voice awakened me in my mother’s house, as I sang aloud the chorus of heaven. I could not shake the changeless rhythm of it. I reached for a pen and wrote down the words I had heard.

For weeks I carried the song of the witnesses. Everywhere I went I moved with its rhythm. I could not come out of that place. It moved within me like a living thing, this “worship that sees.” Finally, one day as I sat pondering the song within, understanding dawned. I am not supposed to lose their song and move forward. I am supposed to take their song forward. I am supposed to carry the song of the witness, sharing the knowledge that they have gained with the ones who seek this wisdom in the earth, until all come to the deep understanding of His Fierce Beauty, and can sing with one voice… Beautiful, You are. Beautiful, You are. Beautiful, You are to me…

And the cloud of witnesses joins the song…

Beautiful You Are – Their Song

I will not offer You that which costs me nothing

I will not come before You with empty hands

This fragrant oil of worship I will lavish upon You

As I bow at the feet of my Holy God

Beautiful, You are, Beautiful You are, Beautiful You are to me

I lift my cup to You, give it all up for You

Lay everything out before Your eyes

Everything that I should be, could or would be

I leave at the feet of my Holy God

Beautiful You are, Beautiful You are, Beautiful You are to me

Oh, My Kinsman Redeemer may your handmaiden draw near

Spread Your garment over me a while

For Your song it does call me, as this threshing floor draws me

To lay at the feet of my Holy God

Beautiful You are, Beautiful You are, Beautiful You are to me