Life above the valley

I awakened to an interesting sermon. From our deck, I could see the peaks of the surrounding mountains basking in the morning light, but the valleys were stuffed with cotton-like clouds. Had I paid attention in science class, I might have been able to explain why that happens, but I was more interested in the people below me in those valleys. Unlike mine, their morning was dark and cloudy. All they could see was the valley, even though there were mountain tops and sunshine above. I wanted to shout below and tell them a beautiful day was coming, but I sat and sipped my coffee instead.

I watched as the valleys cleared and thought about the times when I've been in a valley. I was incapable of seeing beyond the valley contours, or through the clouds above. I thought of friends who have struggled in darkness and how I wanted to shout out to tell them there was a bright day above the clouds. I wanted to assure them the peaks were there even though they could not see them.

I wonder if that’s what living a life of faith is all about. Some might tell you it’s about always living life on a sun-drenched peak, but I think it’s more about knowing the peaks are there even when you can’t see them, especially when you can’t see them. It’s the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen, I read somewhere, and that morning I felt like I was given a glimpse of what life must look like to the great cloud of witnesses. Like me, they probably want to shout out to tell us that there’s sunshine above, that the clouds will eventually disappear revealing God’s larger landscape. Who knows, maybe they do.

Extra Credit:

Think of a time when you were in a valley. What was the situation, and how did it feel when you awakened there? Did the clouds lift? If so, did you see, as if for the first time, the peaks and sun above? What did the experience teach you? Have you ever shared that experience with anyone?