Those who know me, know that I love photography. And I especially love landscape photography. In my photography, I have two primary things helping me. The first of these is the many beautiful places that God has created, which I have been blessed to be able to see. Having a beautiful landscape makes taking pictures that people will like a lot easier. The second thing is I truly feel that, through the Holy Spirit, God often inspires me, leading me to take better pictures than I otherwise would. On the negative side, I don't have quite the talent that other photographers do. In addition to that, as opposed to professional photographers, as well as many more serious amateur photographers, I am what I call a photographer of opportunity. That is to say that when I visit places, photography isn't usually my primary purpose for being there, and I am generally at a given place for a relatively short period of time. Thus I have to take advantage of the opportunities I am presented with, dealing with the conditions as they exist. However, professional photographers, as well as many more serious amateur photographers, often go places specifically to photograph them. And they will plan their visits, and take the time, to capture their subject matter in the most favorable lighting and weather conditions. Thus, they often will be able to capture shots that I will never have the opportunity to take.

All of that said, I have come to the conclusion that all photography fails to a given extent. That is, it fails to fully capture the magnificence of the subject matter. Good photographers can often take truly beautiful pictures. And many can even take pictures that elicit an emotional response. However even at that, they can often only capture a glimpse of the true magnificence of what they are photographing. There is simply no way to fully capture the true magnitude and beauty that exists there.

One reason for this failing is due to pure optical physics. There are many places that it is simply impossible to capture the true magnitude and scale of. Particularly when displayed on any scale that a photograph might be displayed on. Even if it is printed on a wall poster. Take the Grand Canyon, which is up to a mile deep and eighteen miles wide. Or the South Rim of the Chisos Basin, where there are places that one has one-hundred-and-eighty degree views that extend for over thirty miles in any given direction. There is simply no physical way to give the viewer of a photograph that sense of magnitude and distance. Even if one takes a series of photographs and combines them in a panoramic photograph. The viewer might get a sense of the vastness, but the resulting height to width ratio of the panoramic photograph will actually diminish the vertical perspective.

Another reason that photography cannot fully capture the magnificence of many places is that it deals in only one of the senses - sight. It can't capture the sound of a hawk echoing through the walls of the Grand Canyon. Or the smell of flowers as one hikes through the valleys of Glacier National Park. Or the feel of a gentle cool breeze as one stands in amazement among the Red Woods, watching the late afternoon sun filter down through the trees to the fern covered ground.

A final reason that a photograph simply can't capture the true magnificence of many places is that part of that magnificence is purely spiritual. Sure, as I mentioned, there are photographers who can take pictures that elicit emotional responses. However, the emotional response that one may have when viewing a photograph is different from the actual spiritual experience of being there. Stand or sit quietly at any of the aforementioned places, and it is truly a spiritual experience. I remember getting up on Christmas morning last year. I was in the Chisos Mountain Basin in Big Bend National Park. To the west, a full moon was setting directly down through the Window. While at the same time, to the east, the sun was lighting up the clouds over Casa Grande, coloring them a bright red. It was a three-hundred-and-sixty degree display that was more magnificent than any photograph I might take could hope to convey. But there was much more to it than that. At that moment, I truly felt a oneness with God. It was as if God himself was saying "Merry Christmas, this is the gift I have created for you." And that's the way it often is. It may not be Christmas, but God is still there, saying "Look at the beauty I have created for you to see. This is a sign of my love for you."