God paints His best masterpieces with clouds

I frequently find myself absolutely enamored by the sky. 

The beauty of God's artwork often holds my heart captive. I'll plaster my face to a window, crane my neck in the car, or sprint outside to the street, and then take somewhere around 45 successive photos as the appearance of the heavens gradually transitions. I'll blink away tears of awe as I stare in wonder for ridiculously long moments at a time. 

(For real. I'm extremely annoying to the people around me during these events. I make zero eye-contact during discussions and glue my gaze upward, determined not to miss a single second of the momentary beauty while it lasts.)

I find it such an honor to so freely witness God’s majesty. He makes His glory so readily available to us on a regular basis. I've observed a sunrise or sunset from start to finish in the short span of only a few minutes. If God can create something so amazing that is so fleeting, what more can His power do in my life? 

These have been my thoughts for years. Every sunrise. Every sunset. Hello, God. Good morning. I love you, too. Good night, God. I see you. I love you, too. You are powerful and wonderful. Thank you for demonstrating your love to me in this obvious and overwhelming way. I know You love me. I love you, too.

The other night, while I was sitting in my car on the side of the road to fully appreciate the majesty of the sun going down without causing a traffic accident (You're welcome, Nashville.), I was praising God for making His presence known to me when I verbally thanked Him for the clouds that were able to provide such a lovely canvas to display His masterpiece. It was this one, by the way:

And then I stopped short. Did I mean that? Did I really mean what I had just said? Was I genuinely thankful for the clouds in my life? Surely not. Clouds (both literal and metaphorical) are bad. Clouds block the sun. Clouds bring with them dark days and coldness and rain. Clouds are always unwelcome. They ruin plans and wreak havoc. Nobody ever wants the clouds. Nobody ever asks for the clouds. Nobody is ever thankful for the clouds. 

Are they?

Am I?

Then I realized that maybe I am. I started to pay attention to moments when the heavens most deeply touched my soul and spoke to my heart. I went back and looked through old photos of the sky I had taken over the years. I discovered they all had one thing in common: Clouds.

It’s on the clouds where God paints His best pieces. Yes, the clear skies (and calm times) are nice and enjoyable during the days free of rain and full of sunshine. You can see God’s light shining bright with no obstruction, and we’re able to enjoy His peace with no distraction. Our lives are smooth and uncomplicated.

But it’s on the clouds reflecting the sun where He displays the most glorious demonstrations of His love. It requires the existence of life's complications to fully witness God's heart for us.

Those same clouds that we curse for interrupting our smooth lives; the same clouds that temporarily block the sunshine; the same clouds that we wish would hurry and pass, while we’re frustratedly striving to bask in the warmth of His presence...

Those are the same clouds, that at the end of the day, God is able to demonstrate His most beautiful handiwork.

They add texture and dimension to His reflection. They tell a story. They tell His story. They tell our story.

Without those clouds that we love to hate, we get a rather dull sunset. There’s no blaring story in the sky as those days draw to a close. There's no portrait of His presence. There's no captivating image of His glory. There's no evidence of what He's helped us endure and overcome.

(The previous view from my front porch at the end of a beautifully sunny day is the first photo of a cloudless sky I can ever remember taking, and I only did so recently, after I had begun exploring the merits of cloudy vs. clear skies.)

Furthermore, the nights with the thickest clouds provide the most dense display of his presence. Those times in our lives when we truly feel that we can't even catch a glimpse of God's light through the muck hovering over us, allow Him the opportunity to exhibit His love in the most radiant fashion.

The following photo was taken on a specific evening of exceptional darkness in my life. I distinctly recall needing to feel His presence so desperately that I literally cried in anguish when I concluded that the very overcast sky would hinder His comforting and familiar display of love that night. My, how wrong I was. 

He not only reminded me that He was right there with me in the pain, but He made the entire sky turn breathtaking shades of pink and purple just so I could understand to what depth His love reached for me at that very moment. I ran out of the restaurant where I was eating solo, stood in the middle of the parking lot like a crazy person, sobbed as a child in the arms of her loving father, took seventeen pictures (literally; I counted), and finally gathered the courage to drive to and attend my first DivorceCare support therapy group. All because God spoke to me using the very clouds I had previously resented. What more can He do in my life using the exact pains and heartaches that I initially despise?

When it comes to clear and clouded skies, I wouldn't necessarily argue that either is better than the other. But honestly, this the first time I've ever said that. (I had not yet recognized this concept on that February evening in 2014 when I wept alone in the Wendy's parking lot.) For so many years, it was completely obvious that clear skies were superior to cloudy ones. Duh. I wanted life to be smooth. I wanted things to happen the way I had always expected. I wanted everything to fall into place just so. I didn't want the wrenches in my system, kinks in my hose, or clouds in my sky.

However, my countless photo albums poorly support this claim that I've preferred clear skies. And now, for the first time, I'm realizing that I truly am grateful for the clouds. I don't just endure them for the sake of survival, but I genuinely appreciate their presence in my world. They provide an avenue by which God can clearly exhibit His masterpiece. Maybe I shouldn't curse the cloudy days, lamenting the loss of my clear view of His sunshine; those cloudy days lead way to some truly magnificent images of God’s love. Images visible near and far. Images I can't wait to witness and share with others. I just have to hold tight until the sun goes down. Eventually, God will draw His most beautiful masterpieces on those very clouds.

I've certainly had more metaphorical clouds in my personal life-sky than I ever would have desired. But I pray that the hard times in my life (and yours), the situations that have blocked my convenient view of Him and have shrouded me in darkness, will eventually, at the twilight of each particular experience, become a canvas by which God can overwhelmingly display His majesty, His purpose, His presence. Maybe, even in the midst of the painful darkness and seeming distance from His light, I can still preemptively be grateful for the amazing story preparing to unfold at dusk. I can sit and rest under the gloomy, overcast sky and fully trust that those originally undesired obstructions are already preparing the canvas of the profound story of my life.

Without the clouds, there’d be no testimony. There'd be no reflection of the sun. There'd be no evidence of the journey. There'd be no story.

The bright days sure are easier, but the cloudy skies are the ones that convey the most captivating works of art.  

BTW. All of the photos featured in this post are pictures I have personally taken with my phone over the past couple of years. They are straight out of the camera with zero editing, color alteration, or filters. God really is just that amazing. And I really am just that obsessed.