There’s always been something about a sunset. There’s such a finality to it. Yet, I know it’ll come again tomorrow.
I grew up on a small dairy farm in Maricopa, AZ.
I wore cowboy boots and overalls, rode in the front seat of my dad’s pickup truck, and watched the sunset over the nearby mountains.
I was born into the sunset.
Strung up in the sky, all of time pauses while you search to find your breath. If you’re lucky, there is a moment of silence, and you can reflect and give thanks.
I haven’t lived in Maricopa since 1997, yet every time I see a sunset, it’s like I’m staring across the alfalfa fields, a train passing by in the distance, as the sun sets over the Palo Verde Mountains.
For years, as I would drive up and down Houghton Road in Tucson, I would look west and see the sunset, yet I was back on the farm.
Last week, as I drove home with my wife and kids, we stopped before we got home and parked my truck on a hill looking east toward the Rincon Mountains as the sunset painted the clouds overhead in brilliant fashion, all while droplets of rain began to tease our senses.
Lightning burst from the fiery clouds as the thunder groaned in approval. I found myself watching my kids as much as the sunset itself. Enthralled isn’t strong enough a word. Each of us was drawn into the presence of God.
Perhaps that’s why the sunset always makes me think of Maricopa, of my days as a carefree child, content to sit on my father’s lap while harvesting the field. It’s as if every day, God is inviting me back into childhood; to remember my place in his kingdom.
“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”
Mark 10:14
With each sunset, God invites me back in time to accept his favorite title for me. It’s not husband, father, friend, or pastor, but a beloved son.
I imagine the joy I felt watching the faces of my children as they marveled at God’s artistry is nothing compared to the love and joy God feels watching us marvel at him. He’s a loving father and wants nothing more than for us to delight in his presence. He reminds me of that truth every evening I take the time to look for it.
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