The Sequel to God's Magnificent Best

 

 

As sure as the day follows night

Sunrise always follows sunset,

One is sure to follow the other

How beautiful can a sunrise get?

I suppose it’s one’s preference

That determines the winner,

Or perhaps what really follows

That decides which we prefer.

There is a sense of emptiness

As the sun disappears from view,

But joy comes in the morning

As we hail the day, brand new.

But how might we compare

The colours and their hues,

Bearing in mind the spectrum

With its yellow, reds and blues?

For every sunrise is distinct

And every single sunset too,

God the magnificent Artist

Paints them with colours true.

Maybe it’s the sunset’s splendor

Contrasting with the darkness

Or a yearning for a longer sunset

Before the parting brightness.

  

Maybe it’s the coming light

With that great anticipation,

That heightens the sunrise

Reminding of God’s creation.

For while I’m urged to remember

The beauty of the sinking sun

The brilliance of the sunrise

Is gone before the morning’s done.

The impressions of a sunset

Often linger through the night

But the radiance of a sunrise

Is lost with the brilliant light.

So my vote goes to a sunset

For it is clearly obvious to me

No comparison between the two,

The sunset’s a thing of beauty

But where is the satisfaction?

Is the choice I made correct?

Where is the sense of justice?

What is this feeling I detect?

Could it be that we the judges

Are clearly out of our league?

Or our personal preferences

Cloud the way we perceive?

So back to the drawing board

And back to the stated question,

Can the beauty of a sunset

Eclipse that of the rising sun?

  

Is there additional evidence?

Tell me where I should look,

“Yes there is,” I heard Him say,

“Look into my Holy Book.”

That God is the only Artist

Evidence from the Bible shows

He paints the sunset and sunrise,

From His hand each one flows.

The question now before us is,

Is He better at one, can you tell?

Certainly not must be the answer,

For God performs all things well.

With His deft strokes and artistry

He paints each sunset and sunrise,

Ever since the beginning of time

They sing the heavenly reprise.

Tell me, can God out do Himself?

Does perfect have a comparison?

He is the designer of them both

So a ‘dead heat’ is the decision.

But if justice has been served,

Why is there still this feeling?

I feel there is something greater

That the Holy Word is teaching.

Father, show to me the lesson

I should learn from all of nature,

Every sunset and each sunrise

Teach to me to what they refer.

And then His sun begins to rise,

His light shines upon my reverie,

The Bible documents God’s work

And reveals about the Almighty.

Neither of these works is better,

The sunset stands not on its own,

In that sunset the Saviour died

But his resurrection is the dawn.

 

That sunset was really not about

The sun’s departing radiance,

But was meant to be the herald

Of the Son’s uprising brilliance.

Even God could never exceed

His glorious magnificent best

When Jesus went to Calvary

And our hopes upon Him rest.

And so from the grave He arose,

We echo that triumphant song,

The sunrise we look for is coming

To the heavenly, believing throng.

O what a sunrise it’s going to be

When Jesus returns for you and me,

Goodbye Old World I’ll be out of here,

Will you join me in the land over there?

More than a sunrise or sunset, you see,

They both speak of an eternity to be,

Many will scoff at this mystery

But the promise will be a reality.

  

The work of God some don’t accept,

They spurn His love, His Son reject,

Creation’s story not fit for a school,

To believe in such one must be a fool.

Whatever shadows obscure the mind

The refusal of God is no excuse,

Those who reject recreation’s story

Are also them whom God will refuse.

Resurrection power has been revealed

In the form of the empty tomb,

He is not here but risen in deed

And now He asks us, “Is there room?”

Is there any room for the Saviour?

He conquered death and the grave,

And now he sits on heaven’s throne,

Why not accept him and be saved?

Good Friday evening and Easter Morn,

The sinking sun and the crack of dawn,

The crucified Jesus and the risen Christ,

All speak of the Lamb and His sacrifice.

Stewart Russell © 2014

God’s Magnificent Best

 

 

Standing on the beach

Looking across the sea,

Feeling pleased as punch

As on a bun I munched.

The sun was sinking low

Setting the water aglow,

‘Twas a splendid sight

As the sky came alight.

My eyes held to the line

Separating sky from sea,

My mind on its accuracy

Showing God’s ability.

Artists try to illustrate

The beauty that they see,

But always falling short

Of God, His Majesty.

Yes, I was overwhelmed,

This work of the Supreme,

Captured my entire being,

This feast my eyes had seen.

 

It was absolutely fabulous,

Not that I could be a judge

Of the handiwork of God,

My eyes won’t even budge.

I stared in trapped oblivion,

I could not look away,

The view held my attention

There at the close of day.

I was frozen by its beauty,

In my mind I heard a voice,

Have your eyes seen better?

“No,” was my spoken choice.

My greatest desire that time

Was to be truly locked away,

With this rich phenomenon

I was viewing from the bay.

Then I attempted to analyse

This scene before my eyes,

I was aware of my limitations

And struck by God’s creation.

 

The many rulers it would take

To draw that straight horizon,

And the steady hand to make

It flow with such precision.

I thought of those great artists

Who then and in the past,

Had painted many a sunset

But this had all outclassed.

No doubt these artists too

Had given God much praise,

When in one such moment

Their eyes on a sunset gazed.

The colours were resplendent,

Their numbers I couldn’t count,

They cascaded in the ocean

And form a magnificent fount.

Even as the ripples danced

In the gentle evening breeze,

I stood transfixed in a trance

My attention God had seized.

 

Suddenly I wanted to scream

“God, you are so very great!”

But I contained my ecstasy,

Allowing reason to dictate.

Again came the inner voice,

“Must you dissect everything?

Won’t you ever understand

How much there is in listening?”

This was not for examination

But simply for me to enjoy,

I had wasted time in analysis

Now I felt like the errant boy.

In a moment the sun was gone,

The spectacle had disappeared,

And with it that thing of beauty,

At which I could no longer stare.

I knew I had missed that moment

When the sun had slipped away,

I had been caught in my analysis

That had worked to my dismay

But in my depths of solitude,

That voice had said to me,

“That’s not my magnificent best,

For that, just look to Calvary.

That was a sunset too you know,

The disciples sure thought it so,

They too had missed the beauty

Of the blood for sin that flowed.”

God’s Son was on that cross

And for our sins He did atone,

‘Twas such a glorious sight

And Jesus did it all alone.

For God so earnestly desires

To paint upon every heart,

That picture of the Saviour

Today you should let Him start.

Just view that greater Light

As you gaze upon that scene,

See where Jesus hung in agony

There, you and me to redeem,

At his back was the sinking sun,

God’s Son silhouetted in its light,

For the disciples a horrid sight

But God was displaying His might.

Many have wondered at this

And have called it a mystery,

In the midst of apparent defeat

God had painted the victory.

Jesus cried out, “It is finished!”

Many thought it was the end

But the painting was that sunset

Before the sunrise God did send.

  

“That was my magnificent best,”

God said, the painting yet unfinished

Was marked “to be continued”,

As the Light would be diminished.

This sunset was really not about

The sun’s departing radiance,

But was meant to be the herald

Of the Son’s uprising brilliance.

God’s magnificent best was no sunset

That adorned that evening sky,

Rather, it was the life that Jesus gave

As that Passover evening drew nigh.

Good Friday evening and Easter Morn,

The sinking sun and the crack of dawn,

The crucified Jesus and the risen Christ,

All speak of the Lamb and His sacrifice.

Stewart Russell © 2014