The November sun sunk below the horizon soon after we crossed into Canada. On previous travels to Quebec, my destination to visit friends in Sherbrooke would have only been about half an hour north across the border. But tonight, things were different. There was still over 100 miles to traverse in the darkness.

As we passed through the countryside, the glittering lights visible often in the far distance revealed the fact that we were traveling through high elevation surrounded by vast open space. Various signs that revealed we were indeed in a foreign country peeked my interest. But what caught my wondering attraction most was one specific element that was common to each town we past through. Usually close to the road, always in the center of town, and most notably at the highest point in the area, stood magnificent churches. Cathedrals! Town after town. Large and small. Some brightly lit. Some tucked away in shadow. But all with steeples disappearing high into the dark, moonless sky. I had never been to this part of Quebec before, so I was looking forward to seeing what photographic opportunities might fit in between the various family events we had scheduled over the next few days.

The next day, in the very early afternoon, the first photographic opportunity presented itself. We were taking a stroll on a pedestrian walk along the Chaudière River in downtown Saint-Georges. Èglise Catholique Saint-Georges stood majestically on the opposite shore. I had my camera ready.

But the thrill to create photographs wasn’t there like it was the night before. The subject was inspiring. But it didn’t have inherently beautiful surroundings. And the light was as harsh and colorless as you’d expect in the middle of a clear day. I snapped the above photo anyway, and edited it the best I could.

I took another shot with a black and white processing style in mind.

Except for one more shot I took further down the walkway, that was all I had time for on that excursion.

Knowing that we would never be in Saint-Georges at a colorful time of day on this trip, I tucked away the thought that next time we were in town, I would suggest taking our stroll in closer proximity to the cathedral.

November in Quebec is about the same as late December in the southern regions of West Virginia. That is, it’s quite chilly in the mornings! The following day, I decided I would make time for a second photographic opportunity before the busy day of activities got going. I would get up early and find something local to photograph for the 7:30am sunrise.

The next morning, Julianna and I loaded into frost-covered car in the cold, dawn light. We pulled out of the driveway and started heading to a spot just out of town I hoped would work for sunrise. But after just a couple minutes into the drive, I realized we wouldn’t be able to make it there in time. Even though the sky looked thick with clouds, it was open on the northeastern horizon, and the sky looked like it was ready burst into color. I wasn’t wrong. Within minutes, the sky was a kaleidoscope of pinks and purples and oranges and blues! And I was totally unprepared. Almost anything could look pretty in this kind of light! So I looked around to see what I could use. We happened to be in the center of town. The church!

I pulled into a random commercial parking lot beside the road and scrambled down to the river. Unfortunately for my freezing fingers, I forgot my gloves in the car. “No time for comfort,” I told myself as I broke open the tripod and mounted the hunk of metal and glass to the top of it.

I took quite a few shots, but I made sure to expose for the sky. Here’s why:

Below are two exposures of the exact same scene. I’m guessing the one on the left is the general exposure recommended by the camera. The one you’d get if you centered the needle. The second one is an intentionally underexposed photo I took to capture the detail in the sky.

When editing the first one, what would be the first thing you’d do? Decrease the brightness in the sky, right? Well, whether I use Exposure or Highlights, it looks something like this:

The sky looks better in which shot? The underexposed one, by far. And we haven’t even started editing that one yet!

Here’s the underexposed one, edited to perfection.

But I wasn’t super thrilled with that composition. So I worked the scene for as long as the amazing color lasted.

On the Shore of the Chaudière
Chaudière River, Beauceville, Quebec
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Before long, the color disappeared, the clouds covered the sun, and the church by the river was swallowed up into the same normalness that characterized every other part of the surrounding town. The light was gone. The stone structure was no different than the uninspiring cathedral in Saint-Georges.

What made the difference between these two locations? Why was I uninspired in the presence of one, while I sacrificed comfort to rush and gaze on the other? Does it have to do with the outward appearance of a building? Or does it have more to do with one’s attraction to Light when the Son is allowed to permeate through to the very core? As we enter this Christmas, season with all it’s nostalgia and tradition, may we let Christ take first place in our hearts so that we can be a channel of His light to those who sit in darkness around us. Who knows when, in His time, passersby will “rush to the river” to witness the working of that Light!

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through Him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name” (John 1: 6-12).