I sat in my car on one of those evenings that was a mesh of late summer and early fall. Hand on the ignition I looked up just before starting the car. And that was as far as I could get before letting the sunset take me away. I looked up to a fluffy sky. I sat in my car and stared as cool blues and warm oranges floated into a stuff similar to grandmas whip cream and jello salad. Colors melted into a sunset as clouds smeared and puffed. It was beautiful. So beautiful it took my breath away and my thoughts with it. I remember as I sat there watching those perfect clouds. Clouds so gauzy they looked as though they had been painted on. Clouds so perfect and still they deserved an audience, a crowd, anyone to sit and see the perfect, frozen scene that streaked across a Tennessee sky. And it was only after giving that sky what it so rightly deserved that I realized the ballet that was before me. Because those clouds were anything but still. There was no frozen scene in front of me. But rather one of constant change and movement. Those perfectly painted clouds, the ones that should have been on canvas rather than sky, those clouds were moving, dancing before me in pirouettes and rond de jambes. And perhaps to some it was barely movement, perhaps to some it was a crawl. But even the slowest movement is still movement.
And I sit here now, in a coffee shop on a cold, windy Tuesday and I think back to that day. That jello salad day. I sit here now and I think of those clouds. And I wonder if they felt still. If they felt stagnant. Did they know where they were headed? Did they know they were moving? Did they know there was life, despite the appearance of it all? I sit here now and I wonder, did they feel like me? Because I feel still. And I feel stagnant. And I feel stuck. Stuck on a canvas I never wanted to be on, framed into a pretty picture that isn’t so pretty after all. And truth is, I want a different picture. I want to feel life. I want to move. I want to move light years ahead of where I am now. Truth is, I don’t so much like where I am in this picture I’ve been given. And so I sit here in this coffee shop and I think about those clouds, and I wonder. I wonder if those clouds knew they were dancing. And I wonder. I wonder if those clouds knew they were beautiful. Even in the stillness, no, because of the stillness, did they know how beautiful they were? Did they know that they were stunning. Did they know they could capture the attention of one girl at first glance. Drop her jaw from its hinges and her keys from the ignition. Did they know? Do you know?
Because we, we are like the clouds. And we move. Sometimes so fast we can’t even keep our heads up. And other times so slow we can’t decipher if distance has even been made. But we are moving. We are not stuck. And we are not still. And no matter how stagnant we may feel, we are moving. In an ever present fluid line we move forward. And it is in no effort of our own. And it is not because of anything we do or do not do. And it is not something we can accelerate or stop. Because we do not move of our own volition. We move because of Him. He moves us. Blows us forward with each breath, with His breath. And He breathes into us the breath of life. Into our lungs. Into our soul. He speaks into our life, and breathes into our soul.
Behold, I will cause breath to enter you that you may come to life. I will put breath in you that you may come alive; and you will know that I am the Lord.
We move, and we move forward and we live by the very breath of God. And just like He blows breath on those clouds, He blows breath on us. And we move. And perhaps there are days that you feel time blurs before you. And perhaps your heart can’t take another beat of measure. Perhaps you think it’s too fast, and you must slow down. Or perhaps you feel stuck. Perhaps you are tired of the same scenery and the same picture. Perhaps you feel that in your heart of hearts you cannot take another day in the same spot. And perhaps no matter your speed, your heart is overwhelmed. And this world, whether fast or slow, is too much. And perhaps. And perhaps. And perhaps.
But take heart. For He has overcome the world. And your story, and your movement and your speed, it is not by chance. And it is not forgotten. And it is not without purpose. But it is beautiful. And it is stunning. And it is bringing forth life.
You are not forgotten. And just like those clouds on that jello salad day, you have an audience. For He sees you. Dancing into your destiny, He sees you. Causing breath to enter you, He sees you. Watching as you come to life, He sees you. He sees purposed movement. He sees a beautiful awakening. He sees life. He sees life abundant. So take heart beloved. Feel His breath and come alive.
|Ezekiel 37:5-6| John 16:33|