dusk
Last night, I started my drive from Warner Robins to Milledgeville. I waited to leave a little longer than I probably should’ve so I would be heading toward the sunset on 96 right when the sun was almost down, since it’s one of my favorite times of the day.
I love it because you can still see slivers of light from the sun: reminders of what happened that day, a chance to reflect. Ways God provided for you. Glimpses of Him you saw. Memories you made with the people He blessed you with. Also, ways you weren’t finding your identity in Christ that day. Hurtful things someone said. A situation you can’t see any good in. Good things, bad things, Inbetween things; they’re all setting with the sun.
Now, my favorite part is what happens next. The sun sets completely, and you start to see stars shine through the night sky. If you wait long enough, you get to witness one of my favorite gifts of the Lord on this earth. You get to look up at the sky and see a small glimpse of God’s vastness. You see all the stars and planets from faraway galaxies. You remember that the One that created all of this, the one who rules it, the one who is sovereign over ALL of it, knows your name, cares about who you are, and knew you would be standing there admiring his creation before he even created any of it.
I love dusk because no matter what happened that day, if you wait long enough, you can see a glimpse of God’s glory that replaces your flawed earthly perspective with eternal perspective. It reminds you that God’s out for His glory, and He’s going to get it. It reminds you to be thankful for the things your heart delights in, because they point back to their Creator. It reminds you that whatever situation you think is up in the air actually isn’t, because surely the God who keeps all the planets in motion can handle your circumstances, because he is faithful. I love it because it takes your eyes off of what is temporary and places them on what is eternal.
So, next time you have the chance, go outside at dusk. You won’t regret it.
-Alyssa