The Sky-Painter

I had to go to work early this morning ('early', meaning I had to be there by 7:00 A. M.), and on the way, I got to see the beginning of the sunrise. 

I like sunrises much more than sunsets. I've seen lots more sunsets, but they always strike me as a little sad - an ending of something. I love nighttime, but I don't like sunsets; they just seem melancholy somehow. Sunrises seem happier - a beginning. 

But even though I'm an early riser, I usually don't watch the sun get up. 

 

The one this morning was fantastic. I was speechless as I drove, wanting to stare, yet not wanting to run off the road. The clouds made a heavy slate-blue roof below the sky. But like a lid on a pot, not quite closed, there was a wide crack on the horizon. And through the crack, between the tops of the far-off trees and the cloudy lid, was a blinding display of gold. I can't describe it without sounding cliche. How do people usually describe sunrises or sunsets?! 'Pink and purple and orange and gold and clouds and streaks and sun'. But those words are so pitiful. I won't even try. But trust me, people have paid good money to see things that couldn't begin to compare to this free display of art and glory. 

Free. Every morning. But how many people get up early to watch the sun rise? How many sunrises have 'gone to waste' so to speak? How many beyond-amazing ones has the Lord made, not because someone's watching, but 'just because'? Just because He's scheduled the sun to start the day. 

 

Every morning He makes one. And how many have been appreciated? Lots, maybe. But not a majority, and certainly not all of them! Yet He keeps making them, every morning, quietly, no fuss, no irritation if no one congratulates Him on their beauty; they're just there for anyone who would like to enjoy them. And then they fade, and are never seen again. Each art piece an original, a one-of-a-kind, and the mold broken. 

Famous artists' work is insured for up to millions of dollars. And most of it is pathetic in comparison to what is available for our enjoyment every day, no charge.

 

Suddenly, the analogy hit me in the face. The answer to a recent personal struggle, literally displayed for me in the sky.

How much unnoticed, unappreciated work am I willing to do? Am I willing to do what's right even if I'm so tired it feels like the weight of my bones is separating them from each other, go the extra mile to lighten a friend's load when my load is crushing me, or deny myself something I'd like so that someone else can enjoy it? Even if no one cares? Gives me credit or a pat on the back? Or worst of all, if no one even knows that I've sacrificed?

How could I not be willing? He paints the sky for me. He can give me strength, if I will just ask for it. 

Oh God give me strength!