Clouds

On the way home tonight I was in awe of the dramatic clouds sailing across the domed canopy of the sky. Somehow the heavens felt bigger as I watched these gargantuan airships hover over the hurried traffic of earth.

Last night we had some astoundingly heavy rain spells. Before and after there were moments where the sun stabbed through the storm clouds in a brilliant contrast of light and dark. That weighty but thrilling electricity heralding a storm clung to the damp air.

At times the skies looked like portals to a land beyond. You can imagine yourself running through the clouds, keeping up a furious pace so you don’t fall through. But if you do, you know that you will fly.

The wind has been busy this week. This restless weather seems to be signaling some sort of shift, like some massive blessing is about to rage forth from the floodgates of heaven in measures we can scarcely comprehend.

What do you see when you look at the clouds? I see freedom. I see hope. I’m reminded that no matter how lofty our aspirations, God is infinitely greater. The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands said the Psalmist.

How often as we race about our lives do we fail to look up? The sky is above us all the time, swirling and churning in a perpetually changing display of magnificence. Yet sometimes I fail to look up. When I do lift my head, I am released from the moment’s worries and just want to feel the sun or rain or fog on my face to remind me I’m alive. Going about our daily routines to pay the bills, we become numb, jaded, laser-focused on ensuring our own survival instead of trusting that our Creator is in control.

In the beginning He created the heavens and the earth.

He said, “Let there be light” and there was light.

He saw that the light was good and He separated the light from the darkness.

He said, “Let there be a vault between the waters” and He called the vault sky.

It’s all far too deeply embedded in our souls, all too beautiful to be some random cosmic accident.

When you walk outside in the driving rain with your face turned towards the stars and your bare arms outstretched as wind envelops you and thunder pulsates, every cell in your being exults in the power, the genius, the deeper magic, as C.S. Lewis called it, of a Creator who knew exactly what He was doing.