Those of you who follow my blog probably know that I post a lot of pictures of sunsets. I have a bit of a fascination with them. There’s just something about a sunset that reminds me of how much God truly loves his people.
The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Psalm 19:1, NIV
Perhaps it is the glowing sun dipping behind the horizon that brings this realization. As the sun begins to disappear for the evening, I think of the loving Father that hung the sun in the sky to warm His creation and to help it flourish.
Maybe it is the colors that make me think of the Father’s love for us. There are just so many beautiful colors, both dramatic and dazzling, that he stretches across the curtain of the sky. The fact that such incredible tints and hues exist and the idea of him picking them out for us to enjoy makes me realize His love.
The sky is His work of art–a masterpiece that simply no human artist can compete with. He uses the canvas of the sky and the medium of the sun to paint the sky for us to admire. It evokes emotion and inspires awe in the hearts of mankind. Truly, it is a testimony to His glory and His love for His creation.
Here are some photos I’ve captured of beautiful sunsets, as well as a simple story to go along with them.
A Spectacular Skirmish by K Marie
My little nephew impatiently tugs at my pant leg. “Come on, Auntie! Let’s go outside,” he pleads. He wants me to join him out on the porch swing. I follow him out. The sounds of early twilight greet me; crickets chirping and frogs croaking an ancient song. Above the canopy of green and flourishing trees and over our tiny pond, the spectacular skirmish between day and night has begun.
Like a ripe nectarine, the sun is cut in half by the knife of the horizon. Fuming, the sun stains the wispy clouds around it in ember red. We sit down on the porch swing and my nephew’s eyes glisten with wonder. He bites his lower lip and stares at the sky. I smile and pat his rumpled mop of blonde curls.
My skin is cooled by the dusk breeze. The leaves of the trees become like a jade ocean—rippling like waves. The light flickers across the pond surface turning it into a sheet of glassy amber. The day is pushing away the dark with tawny limbs, struggling to keep its place in the sky.
The night, however, begins to sneak in along the edges of the sky. In protest, the sun flings angry hues of scarlet and copper at the approaching night. The clash does not last long because night begins to gently kiss and cover the daylight with an indigo cloak. Angry daylight begins to calm and slowly cool. Flaming scarlets become only tiny feathers of tea rose pink floating in seas of amethyst.
“It’s real pretty, Auntie,” my nephew whispers in a croaky, innocent voice, “Jesus is really good at coloring.” I chuckle a bit at this comment. “I agree,” I whisper back.
The sun disappears behind the trees. The last threads of purple light run along the dark hem of the curtain of sky. The stars begin to shine like sparkling sequins stitched onto black velvet. My nephew and I both sigh at the same time. We look over at one another and smile.