The Cloud Cross

Like most weeks that I can remember, this week has been full of the beautiful and the burdensome. It seems as if, as long we’re down here at least, there is simply no way to have the one without the other. There are multiple things in my life now that make me feel as if I’m shouldering much more of this realm’s weightiness than I know I should. I’ve thus been in desperate need of some “lightness.” And that’s the exact gift I was given.

As my daughter and I started out on our very full day yesterday, she said, “Look, Mommy! It’s a cross.” We were in a moving car in traffic, so there was no safe way for me to look immediately. We did eventually catch a red light though and I was able to turn around and ask her what she was talking about. She then pointed up to the sky. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were bigger and brighter than usual, and even twinkling a bit. I followed her still-tiny finger skyward and what did I see but the most beautiful cross I could have imagined.

It was made by two long, wide cloud streaks that intersected in the exact spot they needed to in order to form a perfect cross. Neither of us could stop staring. I felt as if Heaven was speaking directly to me, telling me, in a most real sense, to “lighten” up. I was reminded too of God’s promise to me, his “light burden” promise. Until now, I don’t think that I had ever really processed the oxymoronic nature of “light” and “burden.” When using the word “burden,” we would typically say that something either is one or it is not; but, we probably wouldn’t say that something is a “light burden” (unless we were somehow being blinded by light).

That cloud cross looked as “light” as a feather. And as egocentric as it may sound, I somehow felt that God (or his other heavenly hosts) temporarily tattooed the sky just for me and my little girl. I so needed to be reminded of God’s sovereignty, of his absolute control over this seemingly chaotic universe full of things that I just want to forever forget. Yes, in and through it all, he is still there–still here. And while the cross certainly wasn’t “light” all those years ago when Christ faced it, it is “light” today because Christ faced it.