Capturing the Sunset

The sun sets over the ocean. And what do we do?

We grab our phones and snap a pic for Instagram.

As She sinks closer to the horizon, we are looking down. We apply our filters. We try to come up with a good caption. We glance up to see if we've managed to do justice to the spectacle before us. But we're trying to create something using a medium that is God's alone to use.

And so, we fail. We fail to capture the sunset's colors accurately, no matter how much we edit. We fail to come up with words that explain what we're looking at. But, most of all, we fail to realize that a sunset simply cannot be captured.

Not in a painting.

Not by the greatest photographers in the world. And certainly not on a cell phone.

Because a sunset is ever changing.

It never stops moving. The breathtakingly slow dance of light and clouds and atmosphere has too much to say. No static image of any kind could ever contain all that a sunset is.

And not even the highest definition video can accurately capture the colors.

As the sun makes Her way to the other side of the world She leaves behind a glorious cascade of emotions and memories,

Ours for the harvesting if we stay with Her long enough to notice them.

So maybe instead of trying to capture a single moment to share with the world, We would be better served by sitting alone for many moments with this temporary world.

We can't capture the sunset in a photo. But maybe we can come close with a breath. Breathe in the oranges and purples and pinks and stunningly bright greys and greens on the edges. Breathe them in deeply, and don't let them go.

Because, I think, perhaps the only way to hold onto a sunset forever Is to hold onto the feeling of it taking our breath away.