this is God’s city.

with a view like that, it can only be.

There is a particular orange hue that the sky turns when the sun goes down. A beautiful glow, like the one you see just after it rains, and the sun peeks out before nightfall. It seems to spread across, rather than shine over the city. When you have an incredible vantage point of the city and all its major landmarks – the Reserve Bank, the ship peering out through the top, and the lights of Loftus in the foreground, while the Magaliesberg rolls in the distance. The orange glow feels otherworldly. It reminds me that there has got to be someone up there who meticulously put all these things in place. Carefully. Designed beautifully. It’s the most incredible light cast over the expanse of the city. And then, like He always manages to remind me, this is God’s city. In all its glory. 

You’d think the sunset would have been the most captivating sight that afternoon. It was late in the afternoon, which meant traffic moving up and down Lynwood. The train in either direction, offloading and onloading people from Johannesburg. There was a warm glow & feeling over the busyness of the city is incredible comforting. 

I wanted this piece to be about seeing the sun go down from one of the University’s best vantage points. But that proved itself to be the second-best sight in that moment. The warmth of the glow came from the sun. The feeling of warmth came from a woman standing next t0 me. A woman who, not even a month prior, I couldn’t even string a sentence around. 

~

When tasked with running the show lights in a large theatre, my fussy nature kicks in. I went into show director mode that week. People need to hit backstage at a certain time. Up the stage at exactly that time and make their way onto and then off the stage at a particular time. It wasn’t a Broadway show, but I put a lot of effort into making sure everything ran like a breeze. So, it made no sense that in all that busyness, that I froze when I said ‘Hi’ to some girl before she took to the stage. In one of the most pressure-filled settings, everything stopped. 

For someone who speaks proficiently, I failed to put words together. 

That continued for a while. And I would be forced to put words together over dinner. Then over ice-cream. Then over lunch. And then over FaceTime calls that would last so long, I would only take a 40-minute nap before waking up to go to work.

I would then find myself stringing words together that I thought I would never know how to. Some, I would be happy for, that I finally let fear spur me instead of letting it stop me from expressing how I felt. Some words, I said before thinking twice. And when I thought too long about it, sometimes I would type words on end and never send them to her, letting them go to decay in my notes. Some still sit there now, and some found their way into my trash. 

When words failed, I think it had become enough to sit with this person. I found that this happened often. So, I wouldn’t say anything. Sometimes I would just look at her. But often, I didn’t. Couldn’t. My anxiety doesn’t allow me to make direct eye contact with someone. In the middle of any conversation, my eyes start to wander off. It puts the fear in me that I seem disrespectful. That happens regularly, but there is something about looking at someone who seems to effortlessly make time stop time and time again. It still happens after all this time. 

This is God’s City. And I happen to share this sight with one of God’s very Best.