God's wink

the sunsets of Costa Rica

I was blessed to spend a few weeks in January last year in Costa Rica around my 40th birthday. I was there with friends and other writers for a writer’s retreat, and the one thing that’s stayed with me from that trip were the sunsets. As the sky started to turn gold and pink, we would walk towards the beach with the rest of the town, to the ocean horizon.

The sun, too bright to look at any other time of the day, turned into a glowing orange orb in front of us as it started to set. As it touched that infinite line, the orb would start to shrink and dim until it went under. The sky would turn into a deep royal dusky blue until the sky was black and it was the stars’ turn to light up the sky.

Growing up on the east coast, my westward horizon was the Manhattan skyline. The sun would set and burst into golden rays that spilled out between buildings and along the city blocks. The skyline would silhouette against the sky until the building and street lights would light up the city.

In Costa Rica, I was mesmerized by the obstruction-less sunsets. The first few days I couldn’t stop taking photos during golden hour as light danced on the water and wrapped around people’s faces and figures. But about halfway into the trip, these sunsets became about more than their photogenic potential or the aesthetic they offered me to capture.

The sunsets became an invitation, an opportunity to see beyond its fading light and notice the Person who was behind all of it. God, who holds the universe together, who has the whole world in His hands was the creator artist who put all this into motion every night. I started to be in awe of His work and deeply comforted by it. It felt as if God was tucking me in for the day, telling me, “It’s ok, go and rest. I’ll wake you up in the morning, and bring the sun out again tomorrow.” He didn’t only hold the spinning earth, but also my heartbeat in His hands. And every morning there was Grace opening my eyes to start a new day.

In this gracious rhythm, I could also sense his mirth. He was smiling while whispering to me His promises. I could feel His pleasure in His handiwork, and his joy in my enjoyment of it. What if the sun rose and the new day began, not out of duty but delight? That every evening and morning he says “Again!” like my nephew or niece would say to me when we stumbled onto a game that they wanted to keep playing.

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
― G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Sometimes if the evening was just right, when the skies were really clear and the air was still, you could see a burst of green light right after the sun disappeared over the horizon.

There’s a whole scientific explanation for why the green burst of light happens. It has something to do with wavelengths of light and atmospheric density, but I like to think of it as God winking at me.

“Hey Minnow, did you catch that? Did you see what I did there? That was just for you. I love doing that for you.”

He winked at me the night before my 40th birthday. I stood at the beach, facing the sunset, my heart heavy and stomach tight, grieving all the change and loss of my 39th year. But by then the ministry of these sunsets had done its healing on me, and beneath that grief was gratitude for slowly finding my faith again, and how in that moment, I had everything I needed.

And how every day, taking it one day at a time, with every sunrise and every breath God gave me, I made it to my 40th year of life. He didn’t spare me from anything, but sustained me in everything.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​