Suspended by invisible strings, the clouds frolicked on a June afternoon. Under Iowa sky, the girls and I played along.
We stretched out on the deck and focused eyes Heavenward. What do you see? I asked the girls.
Lydia saw a snail, then a chef’s hat. Anna found a butterfly and a fluffy, lopsided heart. The clouds tumbled quickly, morphing into new shapes before floating out of view.
And then the question came: “Mommy, what do you see?”
What do I see in my clouds?
Back in 1970, John Fischer wrote a song that said if we’ve seen clouds, we’ve seen God:
Have you ever looked at the sunset
With the sky mellowing red
And the clouds suspended like feathers
Then I say you’ve seen Jesus my Lord
Do I see God in the clouds? I mean, do I really see a Savior in these clouds that blow in and darken days? For most of us, our clouds are our sufferings: our sickness and doubt, our loneliness and sorrow.
But if I don’t look carefully, I might miss the miracle in the clouds:
“… clouds are the dust of His feet.” — Nahum 1:3
Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of Him there in the clouds, after they’ve morphed then floated on by. Sometimes, I miss Him altogether.
And there are times I’ve seen God more clearly in the clouds than under bright sun.
There’s a name for these moments of closeness to God — where you feel His presence in such a profound way that it can change your life. They’re moments called “mountaintop experiences.”
Here’s the beautiful irony: I’ve had the most life-changing “mountaintop experiences” on my cloudiest days. Someone else might try to tell me those moments weren’t on the mountain, but in the valley. But this I know: my feet were planted on the Rock of the mountain.
Maybe a mountaintop experience has nothing to do with how clear the air or how bright the day — but how close you are to the clouds.
Clouds are the visible evidence in our lives that God is passing by.
He makes the cloud his chariot… — Psalm 104:3
Outside just now, the clouds have released life-giving rain to parched fields. It’s been almost a month since the last rain. It’s too dark now to see God in the clouds. But I can hear Him in the rolling thunder.
What have I to fear in the clouds?
Look, he is coming with the clouds. — Revelation 1:7
This post is part of Robert Hruzek’s What I Learned From … a Mountaintop Experience group writing project.
Photo: Clouds over my home.