2008-05-13
Confronted in the Clouds
~written May 2 in an airplane over Texas~
Looking out a thick, oval window, I see the crawling, green moss of forests and muddy, streaked paths of rivers. Up here I sense my smallness. Millions of individuals scatter like ants from the mound. Can God really be mindful of each one? Is it true he counts the hairs on my head? It takes faith to cling to the promise of love, yet I ponder the evidence.

Wheatfield under a Cloudy Sky by Van Gogh
I am tied to this amazing world by something invisible. Forces I can’t see and don’t understand give me life. Each breath is taken in faith as oxygen fills my lungs. I cannot believe man is an accident, but are we really the crowning glory of creation?Crawling on this rock, our marks are visceral. In pursuit of fulfillment, we create, we love, we fall, we cry. Does anyone answer? Is our toil futile? Our contributions are for good or evil; the spirit lifted in hope or crushed in debauchery.
Soaring above it all, my soul is pulled to things higher than mere existence. My life is valuable to the ones indistinguishable on the ground. Their affection gives me hope. What is the origin of relationship? Love came from somewhere. Natural affection is powerful, but is it a glimpse of something greater? Is there a love stronger than death? I rest in the promise of a faithful Creator. He planted my feet firmly in the clay, but one day he will give them wings.
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