Soon, it stirred you to panic. How could it not, when a
thousand skies streaked by, burning layers of afterimages
into your eyes? All at once you saw sickly green swirls, scarlet
chaos, and eerily still blues. And where before you had time to
feel something unique in response to each new sky, there was
suddenly nothing but a heart-pounding, bladder-emptying,
muscle-freezing panic as the endless barrage of skies slammed
into you one after another, leaving you reeling. Who wouldn’t
be, confronted by the incomprehensible?
In fear and confusion you stood and you ran as the skies
above flickered and the ground below trembled. Past villages
and cities, meadows and forests, deserts and oceans you ran,
fleeing what cannot be evaded until son, the briefest glimpse of what I see every second of every
day, and you felt for just a moment the weight of sadness that I
have felt since the Fall. It broke you, more deeply than you can
understand, but in the end, it will be what saves you, because
you will understand that humanity was made for something
more.
you stopped. Finally, you dragged your gaze away from the high and the
low and to the people. There was an aging woman with a
smile that spoke of love deeper than the skies. A small girl
who kindly brushed the tears from your face. And a speaker,
someone whose flowing voice and tender eyes welcomed
you...home? For a moment, you were uncertain of who they
were, where you were, before you recognized your mother,
daughter, and wife.
After all, you knew deep down that what you were doing was
hopeless. Even a child knows it is pointless to run from the sky.
While you stood there stupefied, wondering if you could just
be given peace, I placed my hand under your chin and
pulled.
Pulled until you had to look up again, into that maelstrom.
And once your gaze was fixed upon the skies, you saw.
In the endless skyscape, you saw reflections of others’ lives.
You saw a belt flash, a child scream. You saw gaunt men
and women trading the last of their savings for a moment of
chemical solace. You saw a crushing press of flesh, a tide of
wretched humanity suffocating the poor and oppressed. Then
the storm turned inward, and you saw yourself in a shouting
match with your wife, yourself turning a cold shoulder to
the homeless man on the street corner, yourself silently and
unconsciously judging Lucy’s dark-skinned schoolteacher.
Most painfully of all, you saw how this anguish has persevered
in spite of all humanity’s attempts to eradicate it. You saw, my
Then I brought you home, gave you rest. I woke you up, set
you down among a circle of people, in a cozy little house.
The rafters overhead were wooden, stained by age. A model
train set was half-assembled and scattered across the smoothly
finished oaken table. A ball of yarn laid, partially unraveled,
by the crackling hearthfire. Cushioned armchairs were
arranged around a faded woolen rug.
Now I watch as the experience you just endured clashes with
this intimate familial love that is my gift to you. The two
will tug at you, stirring up questions that will challenge and
confuse and even disturb you over the coming years, forcing
you to confront the reality of sin still extant in this world
and the miracle of redemptive love persevering alongside it.
Though you will still have the blessing of your church, family,
and friends, no longer will you be able to veil your eyes with
illusions of perfection attainable in this world.
I am sorry that you have to go through this. But understand:
I am the LORD your God. You cannot believe in me without
needing me. And you cannot need me while seeing only the
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