God knows I have an incurable weakness for sunsets. There is something in them that is so far beyond words and even thoughts. Sunsets are momentary evidence, quick little reminders, that there is undoubtedly a realm beyond this one, and it is glorious.

True to his nature, God has graced me with several sunsets that are true depictions of the term, “breathtaking.” The craggy cliffs of Mendocino, the crystal white beaches of Grand Cayman, and the majestic oceans of Kauai have all been postcard-perfect settings for the closing moments of day.

But this time, the location was anything but exotic. In fact, the sun spread its departing glory from one end of the horizon to the other, as we stood in awe - - in the very unexotic parking lot of H.E.B. No majestic mountains to frame its beauty. No roaring ocean to announce its arrival. Just your typical suburban noise pollution - - horns honking, carts banging, car trunks slamming. Yet in the midst of the mundane, a plume of cloud stretched up and over, like a rainbow’s arch. Directly over our heads, cotton ball clouds flanked the giant plume. The entire sky was streaked with indescribable colors, proclaiming the end of an otherwise, very ordinary day.

I was so grateful my husband was with me, and even more grateful that he was as awestruck as I. We leaned against the car together, aware but unconcerned that the Blue Bell was melting in our cart. Awestruck, we stood speechless in the presence of the Sacred.

The next day, in my alone time with God, I was still amazed by the entire experience of the previous evening. After thanking him again and again, he spoke to me in the way only God speaks. If I had to put it in human words, it would be, “That was just as valuable to me as any effort you’ve ever made to please me.”

I’ve learned so much by pondering his words. Daily quiet times are an effort on my part. I am the “doer,” and God is the receiver. Or so it seems. The same can be said of attending church, Bible studies, service projects, etc. But the sunset was his effort, and I was the receiver. I am deceived when I think my “doing” is more valuable to God than appreciating his “doing.” Maybe he’s not as impressed with my spiritual disciplines as I assume he is!

We think that what we “do” racks up more God-points than simply being present. We’re all about working, pleasing, and earning. He’s all about being, seeing, and enjoying. Since the sunset experience had nothing to do with any effort on my part, it couldn’t possibly “count” as much, could it? Ahhh, what a tangled web we weave!

Why do we pray, read the Bible, or attend church? Isn’t it for a sense of connectedness? To feel his presence? To know his heart? To experience oneness with him? That is certainly my intention. Yet standing in the noisy parking lot of H.E.B. without a Bible or a prayer list, I was more connected to God and to my husband than any other time I can remember.

If the goal is to truly connect with our Maker, does it really matter how or where that connection takes place? Better yet, does it matter who actually puts forth the effort – God or I?

St. Peter’s Basilica is holy ground when Handel’s Messiah resonates through its core. So is my favorite chair, as I sip a cup of Earl Grey and close my eyes to be still and know. And perhaps even more astounding, the asphalt H.E.B. parking lot is holy ground when a glorious sun slowly sinks into the horizon……… and two people stop to notice.