A Picture from My Dad, the Greatest Artist of All Time

I was walking home, enjoying some much-needed quality time with my heavenly Dad. We’d walked to the shops together because I needed a few things, and I decided to turn the errand into intentional connection time. Now, I was on my way back. 

On the way there, we talked about nothing in particular, and yet, we talked about everything. About half-way, I passed a couple of ladies selling metal wares by the road side, a familiar and permanent fixture on that stretch. God prompted me to pray for them – their protection, their business, their salvation.

On the journey back, I noticed their kids had joined them. God prompted me to pray again, including their children. That simple act of obedience would later turn into a ministry moment – but that’s a story for another time.

As I was nearing home, I saw a striking image. It was one of those moments you wish you had a top-of-the-range camera on hand and the skill to match. But I had intentionally left my phone at home and couldn’t capture the moment. So instead, I took a mental picture. Sometimes this is better because you can really immerse yourself in the moment when you’re not looking at it through a lens (I’m certain there’s a deeper life lesson in that as well).

Here’s what I saw: 

It was twilight, with the sun dipping just below the horizon. The road I was walking on ascended to the crest of a small hill before disappearing beyond view. At the top of the hill, a young man of athletic build appeared on the right side of the road, and began descending. Behind him was a breathtaking sunset with layers of red, orange and amber hues blending into one another, rising to meet a slowly darkening sky. 

As he walked down, he playfully tossed something in the air and lifted his right arm to catch it. It looked like a victory pose, a fist raised in joyful triumph. Framing him, on either side was nature – trees, flowers, shrubs, grass –  juxtaposed against the concrete urban setting. Rising up, tall and proud, on his left, was a tall metal tower. All of it was silhouetted by the fading light. 

The whole view looked like art work. Like a staged photo. Like a gift.

I spontaneously started thanking my Dad. It was so beautiful, so intentional. It felt like it was painted just for me, for my pleasure. I couldn’t see anyone else in sight, just me and this man on a hill. Just as I was delighting in the sight, a car appeared at the top of the hill. Its bright headlights penetrated the deepening dusk, accentuating the scene, adding another layer of contrast and depth to the beautiful synergy of man, man-made structures and nature.

My heart was full as I continued to appreciate what I had seen. I prayed, “You did that, Dad! I see it. Thank you so much. It is blessing me.” I named my picture “Man On A Hill”. That was not the end of it. When God blesses, He blesses abundantly, a good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over (Luke 6:38). 

As I was nearing home, I saw another view. The same sunset but from a new angle. The same amber, orange and red hues were rising to an oddly bright sky this time, almost as though daylight was not quite ready to depart just yet. I remember thinking, “It’s as if the sun is saying even in darkness, when you cannot see me, I’ll always be bright, bringing light, just like the Son.” 

I thanked God for that image and that amazing message as well. To me, He had painted two beautiful pictures simple for my enjoyment. Just because… What a delight they were!

Love,