Grand Canyon at Sunrise

Our clocks chirped us awake with a tune not quite as pleasant as a bird’s song. It was just past four in the morning, and the thick darkness outside reminded me that I should be sleeping. Instead, my friend Bailey and I quickly and quietly got ready and carted our belongings out of the cheap motel we had slept in for just a handful of hours. We hopped in my Ford Explorer and pulled out of the small historic town of Williams that sat right on route 66 and looked like the inspiration for the movie Cars. While Williams had provided a decent place to catch some shut-eye, our desired destination was the Grand Canyon, just about 54 miles North.

I had never seen the Grand Canyon before that day and so I intended on doing it the right way. In my mind, the right way was to see the Grand Canyon at sunrise. Hence, Bailey and I drove through morning darkness to reach the canyon just as the sun lit its depths. The drive was pleasant and went by quickly. Slowly, the sky transformed like a watercolor painting. It lightened from black, to gray. Then it began to appear blue. The landscape around us began flat and offered little to observe. But as we neared the natural landmark, beautiful Kelly green trees appeared all around the empty high way. The slowing of the speed limit and the appearance of a cabin-looking structure told us we were about to enter the park. With our pace slowed, we spotted a dear, peacefully poised amidst the trees of the forest that lined the rode. It felt like we had just entered a peculiar world where animals were not afraid of humans and everything was peaceful.

There is an extraordinary kind of quiet and stillness that accompanies such early hours of the morning, just before the sun beckons the earth’s inhabitants to wake up and chatter. It was that splendid silence that Bailey and I jumped into as we departed the warmth of my car and headed toward the outlook point. There were others gathered near the edge, but they too were respecting the rules of the morning silence. We all simply stood in solidarity to watch the mighty sun gleam over the horizon. Parts of the viewpoint offered wooden railings to keep observers from the edge. Yet, other points allowed any brave soul to venture dangerously close to the edge. My stomach did a nervous summersault as I maneuvered closer to the edge to get a good photo.

Within precious moments of our arrival, the sun made its morning debut. I watched in awe as the canyon glowed with even the slightest kiss of sunshine. As the sun slowly ascended into the sky, the canyon boasted its complex character in her light. Illuminated by the light from the sun, I noticed the natural contours of the rocks. My eyes absorbed their rich colors in shades of red, brown, and orange. Bailey and I spent close to thirty minutes, shivering in the cold canyon air, letting the view sink in. It was worth the 4am wake-up call. We really had seen the canyon the right way, and it took our breath away. Most impressive of all was the depth and breadth of the canyon. It stretched farther than our eyes could even see in every direction.

Reflecting upon the vastness of the canyon reminds me of a verse in the Biblical book of Ephesians in which Paul prays that the people might come to know the “breadth and length and height and depth” of God’s love for them. As was the case for many Nature Writers, the Grand Canyon in all of its might and beauty reminded me of God. Standing there on the edge, I saw might and beauty of God in that natural marvel.