“Oh my God!” we both exclaimed as one. Then an opening miraculously appeared and we quickly and deftly swerved off the road sliding to a stop, gravel flying. “Oh… my… God…” as we sat stunned, numbly groping for our cameras, fumbling awkwardly in the front seat, refusing to take our eyes off of what lay before us. We had been chasing just this vision all day without knowing it. Amateur shutterbug, me, and cinematographer, Norm, on a hunt for the perfect image, the perfect capture on film.

I opened my shotgun door while Norm quickly turned off the engine and grabbed the video camera. I stumbled to the edge of the cliff [below was Cape of Good Hope], still refusing to take my eyes off the scene below for fear that it all might somehow slip away and disappear.

But that was not to be. I had missed many a great shot for the last several days driving and focusing, frustrated and missing the moments as they rushed by. But this one would be different.

We had been driving down the mountain, end of day, hurrying to get home for a dinner in our honor given by new South African friends. As we came around the bend, there was the shot. God’s masterpiece of the day painted before us.

Sometimes it’s best to just let the camera go and just drink it all in. Nothing captures the moment of light and color quite like the human eye, and here I realized that this was a moment where time slowed and God proudly allowed it all to be taken in, moment to moment, with no pressure, no rush.

Below us, to our left, lay one of Cape Town’s many coves and harbors. We stood high on a cliff on the side of the mountain overlooking a wash of green African treetops that fell down the mountainside before us. Panning to the right and then straight ahead was the sea, the Cape of Good Hope stretching on endlessly. On the left, thousands of houses dotting the cove, and straight on and right, the blue-green Indian Ocean meeting a yellow-orange setting sun. But cove, harbor, houses and sea were, alas, only to be imagined.

For there, below us, lay upon earth and sea, harbor and cove, the top of a cloud that had slid in noiselessly and now spread its whiteness over all below. It’s not often that one can stand upon the earth and look down upon a cloud. It’s not often that we can witness a setting sun painting that white rolling canvas with its setting reds and oranges from above. We stood breathlessly above an expanse of white marshmallow, fired by African oranges and reds and framed by a blue sky above. God was actually showing off – laughing and painting madly in His end of day spurt of flaming creativity.  We shot frame after frame trying to keep up, trying to capture what lay so far beyond our technical capabilities.

I could show you my stills. Norm could run the scene before you in living color. We could share with you an imperfect piece of the experience. I could score the film with enchanting music that represented all that I felt through it all, or try, as I’m doing, to describe it to you in my best prose, hoping that your imagination could somehow see what we saw. But ultimately, it was God’s moment, much bigger than any of us – much more beautiful than can ever be captured and described by words, music, film or human endeavor.

We stood in awe. God shrugged and said, “Aw, I got lots of ‘em.” But we were there for this one – witnessing Mind at work with its tools of light, contrast, color and surprise. We gave it our best shot and He actually gave us the time to try to capture this timeless masterpiece. We got a little piece of it and I know I got nearly all of it burned somewhere here in my own mind.

But then the sun slipped down below the edge of the world into the Indian Ocean. We drove down into that cloud and there was, in fact, a harbor and cove and ocean below it. By the time we got home to the side of our mountain there was only the darkness and the stars. The cloud had slipped away leaving the burning lights of the homes and harbor – and God still dabbling away. But that moment on the mountain was the climax, perhaps the climax of our entire trip.  That was the masterpiece of God’s creation.

We were there.

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.