Clouds

Clouds: Making the Invisible Visible

We've had to wait for the clouds to be ready to make this video.

Not just any clouds.

We wanted big, poofy clouds against a deep blue sky.

The kind you can imagine watching while lying in the grass, looking up and naming all the shapes as they blow by.

There's a particularly beautiful lesson clouds can teach us.

Clouds make visible the invisible.

And perhaps that's one of the wonderful things creation itself does for us.

It makes the invisible God visible.

Seeing the Air

Clouds are remarkable because they're made from something we cannot see.

You can't see the air.

You can wave your hand through it.

You can run through it.

You can breathe it.

But you can't see it.

Then water vapor gathers. The temperature changes. A tiny particle of dust floats through the atmosphere. Water molecules gather around it.

And suddenly we look up and say:

Wow. Look at that cloud.

Something that was invisible has become visible.

The cloud allows us to see what was already there.

The Heavens Are Speaking

Psalm 19 says:

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of God's hands.”

The heavens declare.

The skies proclaim.

But then the Psalmist says something that almost seems contradictory.

Day after day, they pour forth speech. Night after night, they reveal knowledge.

And then:

“They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.”

So which is it?

Are the heavens speaking or aren't they?

Do they have words or don't they?

The answer in the Psalm seems to be:

Yes.

They speak without speaking.

They communicate without language.

They reveal something about God simply by being what they are.

Creation Doesn't Need a Sermon

The sky doesn't need to preach a sermon.

Sunrises don't need to quote Scripture.

Thunderstorms don't need to explain themselves.

And we don't need the clouds to tell us what they mean.

If we're willing to pay attention, something in us responds.

Maybe that's the invitation of the clouds:

Lift your eyes.

Look.

Notice.

Pay attention.

Clouds are part of our everyday lives. They're often simply hanging there in the background, unnoticed and seemingly not requiring our attention.

But what might they have to say if we pause long enough to look?

What We Overlook

Clouds invite us to pay attention to what we've overlooked.

And that's important.

Because what we overlook, we often fail to love.

So much of life can disappear into the background simply because it is always there.

The sky.

The air.

The trees.

The people we see every day.

Our own breath.

We become familiar with something, and familiarity can make it almost invisible.

Psalm 19 offers us a remarkably simple spiritual practice:

Lift your eyes.

Believe that the heavens declare the glory of God.

Believe that the skies proclaim the work of God's hands.

Look up and remember:

This is God's world.

Let Yourself Be Astonished

What if we allowed ourselves to be astonished again?

What if we let ourselves become full of wonder?

Looking up can remind us that the world is larger than our schedules.

Larger than our problems.

Larger than our worries.

“It is bigger and larger than the story I have been carrying around in my head.”

There's something freeing about that.

Our problems may still be real.

Our schedules may still be full.

Our worries don't simply disappear.

But we lift our eyes and remember that the world is bigger.

And we're invited to notice it.

Traces of Grace

What would happen if we practiced this?

Simply look up.

See what's there.

Watch how the clouds declare the glory of God.

Not completely.

Not perfectly.

But enough.

Enough to awaken wonder.

Enough to awaken awe.

Enough to make us look up and say:

Wow.

And maybe enough to make us look for God.

Because:

“The God whom we cannot see is constantly leaving traces of grace in the world that we can see.”

The invisible becomes visible.

The unseen becomes sensed.

The mystery becomes encountered.

Have We Slowed Down Enough to Listen?

Maybe the question isn't whether God is speaking.

Maybe the question is whether we've slowed down enough to listen.

The heavens are declaring God's glory.

The skies are proclaiming the work of God's hands.

Day after day.

Night after night.

No words.

No sound.

And yet the voice still goes out across the earth.

So this week, may we become people who look up.

May we pay attention.

May we allow creation to teach us.

May we become people who see traces of the invisible God in what has been made visible—in the air, the sky, the clouds, and the world around us.

And may we become present again to the wonder and mystery of it all.