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What actually makes something beautiful? We usually describe beauty as something that appeals to our senses—something with harmony, order, integrity, complexity. Perhaps it’s also something that communicates a sense of purpose, of invitation. Beauty draws us in and makes us want to pay attention.

Take a human being, for example. Every one of us starts out as a single fertilized egg—a zygote. That little cell is already full of incredible complexity and beauty, but for now let’s think of it simply as the beginning of a human life. To get from that one cell to a miraculously beautiful baby, two big things need to happen: growth and differentiation.

As that first cell divides—2 cells, then 4, then 8—we see growth, but not much obvious change in shape or function. Eventually, though, the cells have to start differentiating. Without that differentiation, the full set of human abilities and functions won’t emerge. Instead, you basically end up with a tumor: growth without purpose, “more” without meaning. So diversity isn’t just nice to have—it’s absolutely essential for any complex living system.

Paul makes a similar point in 1 Corinthians 12:12–20. He describes the Church as a body with many different parts: “Just as a body, though one, has many parts…so it is with Christ.” Every part has a unique role, and the body can’t function well without all its diverse members. “If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be?” he asks. In other words, diversity isn’t merely tolerated—it’s celebrated.

However, diversity isn’t enough on its own. Organization matters too. A pile of Lego pieces might be interesting, but it’s nothing compared to what those pieces can become when they’re arranged with intention.

In Genesis 1, we see the diverse layers of creation that God orders. Each part is in turn called good, but when God looks at everything together—the pieces all relating to each other appropriately—He calls it very good. A diverse, complex creation, ordered and functioning as He purposed.

Every true student of science eventually bumps into this deep complexity and can’t help but be intrigued. The harmony, order, and integrity woven throughout creation speak to both our senses and our sense of meaning. Studying the natural world can illuminate the connection between goodness and beauty in ways that feel almost unavoidable.

When I take students out to the prairie, I’m not just asking them to point at plants and name them. I want them to ask why certain plants thrive where they do, how they interact with everything else around them, and how their unique traits help make those interactions possible. I want them to ask why genetically diverse populations are generally healthier and more resilient, why more diverse plant communities tend to support more diverse insect communities. I want them to see that in living systems, form and function fit together in a way that seems almost axiomatic. I want them to understand how the relationships between the diverse elements in the system grow out of their character.

In that sense, beauty isn’t simply in the eye of the beholder. True beauty grows out of goodness. Creation is beautiful because it reveals God’s purposeful ordering and renewing of diverse elements into a vibrant, thriving whole.

I invite you to join the author of Psalm 104 and reflect on the diversity, complexity, and beauty of the world around us—to use this as your entry point into what we call “science” and praise God through your meditation on His good creation.