“I wish I could get you to see what I see.”
And after saying that, you have to accept it: they just don’t get it. You can praise it, point out its subtleties, gawk over its unprecedented originality, frame it as the sensation of the century, but, after all that, if they can’t see what you’re seeing they just aren’t going to love it for what it is. Be it a movie, a novel, a song, a restaurant—when it goes unappreciated we are left asking, “What are they missing? How do I show them?”
Other questions are more salient: why do we care so much whether they get it or not? Why do we need others to see things the way we do? Some people are apparently satisfied without making that connection: “We just disagree, and that’s that.” But it seems that most of us have a deep need to have another person alongside us to appreciate the things we enjoy. It’s almost as if enjoying a person’s favorite things is enjoying a part of the person him- or herself, and there’s nothing more human than yearning for that kind of attention. It’s a need to be appreciated. We need to be seen and heard as if we ourselves are works of art—tragically neglected if the good in us is not witnessed by another person the way we witness beauty in the world around us.
I’m not trying to be sentimental. The ability to appreciate things and people we encounter really is an essential part of everything we think and do. It’s our tool for connecting with every person, place, thing, and idea. Appreciation is the mechanism by which we grant value to what is outside by giving it a place inside. And it’s not merely a God-given privilege for enjoying creation; appreciation is a responsibility—one we often deliberately avoid for its difficulty. If so much of our perception and being involves this distinctly human capability, it is worth our time to appreciate what we mean by “appreciation.”
Let’s make it clear from the outset that when we say we appreciate something we don’t simply mean that we are grateful for it. Things get awkward when we equate appreciation with gratitude, especially when it comes to odd or unwanted gifts. You can imagine getting a pet mouse as a gift from a friend—cage and food and all mouse amenities included. It’s easy to appreciate the cost and effort that goes into a gift like this. But are you grateful for it? Maybe this is a bad example and you wish your friends would buy you a pet mouse. But, for most people, a new pet would be an inconvenience at best and a burden at worst. When asked if we are grateful for gifts like these, it’s easier to provide an answer to a slightly different question: “Well, I’m grateful that I have a thoughtful and generous friend like you!”
The sentiment expressed in that evasive response is what I’m trying to point at. If you don’t want another mouth to feed at home, it feels dishonest to say you’re grateful for a pet mouse. And yet, there’s no duplicity in saying that you appreciate it as a gift. A gift means an investment of time and money, and it always entails a giver—another human being with enough affection for you to make that investment. Appreciation always considers these meaningful components of a gift. It endeavors foremost to understand, to see behind the gift. It’s what we try to train our kids to do when their distant relatives give them mediocre gifts. We tell them that the most important thing is not the gift itself but the person and the thought behind it. Appreciation recognizes that context and holds it in high regard. And that recognition produces even deeper gratitude.
So appreciation is more than simple gratitude and involves a measure of broader understanding. In fact, in a turn of spectacular irony, the meaning of appreciation more closely resembles a term that is generally considered its very opposite: criticism. Properly understood, criticism cannot even begin without appreciation as its first step. Now, I should be clear to set apart criticism from contrarianism. The critic’s job is not to naysay and revel in flaws, although that’s what we often mean when we use the world “criticize.” Those operations require little skill and are achievable by anyone with a voice or a pen. What the critic actually does is much more sophisticated. The key question in criticism is not, “What is wrong with this thing?” but simply “What is this thing?” And as with the appreciative recipient of a gift, we find ourselves looking once again beyond the object itself and into the context that gives it meaning. A good critic can recognize a piece of art for its place in a given culture, its significance to the artist that produced it, its potential reception and meaning to certain audiences, its relation to other contemporary works, and any number of other factors surrounding the piece itself, all of which are as relevant to the piece’s value as it’s excellence as an isolated specimen. In other words, the critic must appreciate a work of art prior to making any value judgments.
There are two aspects of criticism I’d like you to notice. The first is that good criticism requires humility. This may seem like another ironic characteristic to attribute to a critic, but pride really hampers one’s ability to understand complex things. Why stare intently and searchingly at something you think you already fully understand? It is an act of humility to ask questions, to seek deeper knowledge, because it assumes that we can’t answer those questions adequately already. Any critical remark should be preceded by inward critical reflection: “Do I understand this thing well enough to draw this conclusion?”
The second aspect of criticism I want to point out has more to do with what we think criticism is. It’s more than just an action. It is one thing to “criticize” something but it is quite another to “be critical” towards something or to “think about it critically.” The former of these terms is closer to the contrarian naysaying mentioned above. “Being critical,” on the other hand, is more like adopting an attitude or disposition. More than simply making judgments, it’s the commitment to look for details and value in something so that meaningful judgments can be made. And, like any attitude, it’s something you can intentionally shift in and out of. You can walk into a theater saying, “I’m going to enjoy this movie no matter how stupid it is.” Or you can enter with a critical attitude: “I want to determine exactly how this movie excels or disappoints as a piece of film, and I want to have good reasons for drawing those conclusions.” Adopting any attitude is a matter of embracing certain priorities and orienting yourself toward a certain goal. A critical attitude, then, is a commitment to think in ways that value excellence, intention, and context for the purpose of recognizing the merits and meaning of an object.
Appreciation resembles criticism strikingly, sometimes to the point of being indistinguishable. It is an attitude that seeks to fully understand something, to know what it’s worth, to know what is meant by it. And it is necessarily a humble disposition, both because it places value in things outside of the self and because it assumes that there is value to be found even when we’ve failed to notice it. Furthermore, real appreciation affects our behavior, sometimes drastically. You can imagine a situation where a mother loses her wedding ring at home and enlists her twelve-year-old child to help find it. I suspect an average modern preteen would find such a directive more or less unengaging. But even supposing he was sympathetic to his mother’s loss, would we expect him to display the kind of panic and urgency that his mother experienced? Who knows what lengths she’ll go to just to uncover that ring! And that’s what appreciation does to us: when we know the worth of something, our actions reflect that perceived value.
Up to this point, I’ve focused primarily on the appreciation of objects, like gifts and works of art. What I find compelling in all of this, however, is the application of appreciation to other people. These days, it’s trendy to act like relationships are a burden and people aren’t worth our time. But our “Go Away” doormats and “I like my cat more than you” coffee mugs are growing less tongue-in-cheek and more genuinely expressive. Can a person with this attitude be convinced that every human life is worth appreciating? That each individual soul exhibits profound complexity and beauty? On the contrary, what you get from embracing these self-absorbed slogans is the same uncritical pride I mentioned earlier. There is no apparent need to understand a person if you’ve assumed that understanding anyone at all is not worthwhile.
But an attitude of appreciation makes understanding its very end! More than that, it begins with the assumption that there is something good to be found in each person it meets and seeks to witness or even admire that goodness. It automatically approaches any encounter with another person with interested humility, convinced that there is beauty to behold—a beauty that is unique and worth searching for, for it cannot be found anywhere else.
If this is beginning to sound simply like love, then you and I are on the same page. I would even argue that appreciation is the most distinguishing attitude that love puts on. As an attitude, appreciation makes good sense of 1 Corinthians 13, a list of things that love is supposed to do naturally. An attitude of appreciation carries out patience and kindness as a matter of course; it believes, hopes, and endures all things because it is already convinced that the individual is worth the investment. Love is a Christian command, and if appreciation is a distinction of love then it should be a recognizable mark on every follower of Christ.
Even when faced with people who are truly hateful or self-centered, appreciation sees their lives foremost as tragedies. A person capable of committing mass genocide also holds the power to overcome tremendous predicaments and adversity. It is easy enough to desire their deaths as a purging of evil from the world, but does a view from heaven see it the same way? When a tyrant is destroyed, does God say, “I finally knocked that one out!” or does He say, “What a waste of precious creation!”? It seems the second attitude is more representative of the Shepherd who will leave the ninety-nine. Recall the lament of the King of Tyre, traditionally equated with Satan himself. Even David mourns the death of Saul, his insatiable, murderous pursuant, and Jesus famously laments over Jerusalem whose citizens would soon instigate His brutal and unjust execution.
Of course, in our everyday lives, we rarely encounter genocidal despots and murderers. Our immediate struggles involve gossips, simpletons, one-uppers, braggarts, naysayers, complainers, political fanatics, solicitors of sympathy, and other such obnoxious folk. These types are always easiest to love when they’re kept at arm’s length or, better, when they’re not around at all. But I hope that you’ve already noticed how dreadfully these labels flatten real personalities. No human created by God is so easily reduced to a simplistic descriptor, and it is neither loving nor appreciative to behave as if they are. Take the time to imagine someone you genuinely can’t stand! Can you look at that person with any kind of fondness? With any expectation that you will find something charming or productive or worthwhile? The base assumption of appreciation is this: if the answer to these questions is “no,” then you’re missing something. There are no duds in the Creator’s handiwork.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m no proponent of blind altruism or wholesale affirmation and affection towards all things human. There are plenty of things in every human life that are rotten and nasty and should be done away with. But those things are often the easiest to recognize. There’s no challenge in entertaining an audience of friends with snide observations about an absent acquaintance. Complain about that person’s irritating quirks or poor life choices and you’d almost certainly be met with empathetic nods accompanied by additional stories of similar annoyance. We revel in these things. They make for simple and fun conversation. It takes a lot more effort to look deeply into the life of an individual, to understand those quirks and poor decisions by appreciating what brought them about.
But we’re not called to appreciate other individuals just because it’s a nice thing to do. No command from the Creator is so arbitrary. Appreciation unlocks facets of human life that we otherwise cannot access. It mirrors the growth of an expert musician who, through concentrated work and rigorous discipline, acquires the ability to bless the world with breathtaking performances. What new and uncommon beauty can we behold if only we would train ourselves to look for it? And what joy can that bring to those who finally feel seen and appreciated? And, just as masterful technique provides the musician with modes of self-expression that are otherwise unattainable, so also does our appreciation of others grant us the capacity to appreciate ourselves in ways that we are naturally blind to.
In short, the one who seeks goodness and beauty will find it. If ever you look into the soul of another person and find nothing to appreciate, the directive is always the same: look again.
Thumbnail picture by Nick Fewings at Unsplash.