"Sun turns the evening to rose"

The other day I drove back to Tuscaloosa from Birmingham to meet my friends to watch a football game, a game that propelled the Crimson Tide to the #2 spot in the poles. I wanted to get back and immediately reflect on the beauty of the sky as I drove back on the interstate, but the game called to me and I had to respond. Luckily, beauty like that does not leave the mind's eye very easily and I feel like thinking about it now.
The first thing that I noticed coming down I-459 was in this chunk of cloud covering the area I was approaching in my car. There in the middle of the giant covering of cloud was a slice of brilliantly bright light. It made me think of a stab wound, as morbid as some might say that is. It was the only glimpse of the heavens I could see from underneath this cloud, and searing right through it were beams of light that cut through the gray expanse of sky. It was an amazing sight. I almost tried to take a picture of it, but because I was the only one commandeering the vehicle, I decided against it and allowed my brain to store it instead.
Every time I see light doing something like that, it always reminds me of the power hope has when it meets our souls. My brain is driven by imagery. When I think of hope, I think of pictures like this one. Hope is silent. It is not invasive, yet it is very present. We can choose to acknowledge it or we can ignore it, but whether we choose to believe it or not does not change the fact that it exists. Hope cuts through the clouds that often shroud our lives like a beam of radiant light. It is not like a sunny day that makes everything look brighter, but it is that powerful glimmer that gets through no matter what. It can change the way we see the world, but it can also be a ray of light that just gets us through that next moment.
The next beautiful piece of sky God gave me to enjoy on my way back came about 15 minutes outside Tuscaloosa. It was stunning. The sun was completely saturated with color. It was almost wet with this juicy orange hue and it was so full that it seeped into the surroundings. Drops of the sunglow landed on the sky and made it look like a watercolor paint book I loved when I was a little girl. The colors bled, pink into blue into purple into lightest orange. The glow of the the orange orb even soaked into the ground. This interstate I've driven so many times was no longer the dull, lifeless sandy color it always is, but it was a luscious red/orange. The sun spilled over its light and the concrete drank it in and came alive with this sparkling color. It truly was nothing short of gorgeous. I don't think we can take too much joy from this life, at least not from moments like these. I think the Lord wants us to notice these things. Why else would he do this but to display his majesty, glory and creativity? He could just as easily let day give way to night without the display of color he allows in sunset. I think sunset and sunrise occur to remind us of what he did for us and what he does for us everyday. His mercies are new every morning, giving us hope and joy in our salvation. Light breaks the darkness in the morning bringing new promises with the day and light does not go quietly into the night without putting up a fight. It creates a brilliant light-show then glimmers until the very last before throwing itself on the moon to light our way even in the darkness. Our God daily puts his light before us to show us his way for our lives. Scenes like the ones I got to experience that Saturday remind me that we have a big God who is capable of huge love, one that spans the skies and closes the chasm between sinners and a holy god.

Peace