SEAMLESS LOVE

                We’ve heard of timeless love, endless love, May-December love, puppy love…all kinds of love. Timeless love –love that makes time stand still. Endless love- love without end. Puppy love- love that is immature. This summer I learned of a different kind of love: seamless love. Seamless love-love without seams, is coherent, without lines or wrinkles, blemish or interruption.  Seamless love is beautiful and wondrous to behold.

My father is 82 and in July suffered a cerebral hemorrhagic stroke. It left him pretty well motionless on his right side and unable to communicate well. That is an understatement. Since the stroke, he has had two bad infections, one of which nearly killed him. It has been a journey for all of us, most particularly, my father and mother. The stroke happened about three weeks after they celebrated their 60^th anniversary. They were married in Jakarta, Indonesia, moved to the Netherlands and then to America. My parents had five children, suffered much discrimination as immigrants to America and managed to become quite successful. They have gone through much together across three continents. But that is not what seamless love is.

I saw seamless love one day as my mother and I waited forty five minutes for an aide to come. My father, at that time, was still fairly well incapacitated, unable to walk or stand. He had had a bowel movement. My mother pressed the button for the nurse to come. I went out to the nurse’s station and explained that my father needed help. No one came. So we waited. No one came. We waited some more. And still, no one came.  My father was uncomfortable in a different way then I was uncomfortable. It is an odd feeling to know your father cannot control his bladder or bowels. My mother is not one to bother with feelings of discomfort. So she did what she always does. She did it herself…the cleaning, I mean.

She didn’t want help. She walked over to the bed, then, very gently and tenderly started talking to my father, explaining that she was going to clean him and clucking her tongue, chiding the aides for not coming.  My mother laughed a little, making secret little jokes, All the while, she was rolling him on his side so she could remove the filthy diaper. Gently, so gently she pulled down his sweatpants, took off his diaper. Never, not once, did I detect one hint of resentment or disgust.

While I was watching this act of selflessness occur in slow motion, I found myself in disbelief and a thousand thoughts raced through my head: oh my goodness, it smells. This is her husband. This is her lover. This is her life companion. She’s cleaning his bottom. She’s using wipes. This is weird. My father wears a diaper now. This is beautiful. This is humbling. This is humiliating. That’s my father. And, all the while, my mother was whispering, laughing with him, talking gently to him to make sure that he was not uncomfortable. Then in about ten minutes, she was finished.

Without skipping a beat, without interruption, without a wrinkle, my mother moved from cleaning and serving my father, to romancing him. She leaned over, nuzzled him and whispered: “Hey I miss sleeping with you at night. You need to get better and come home. I miss you.”  To her, I was not even in the room. I just started to cry because I was witnessing beauty and intimacy-seamless love. To witness such a moment of seamless love is an honor and humbling.

What is seamless love? It is the seamless movement from the dirt and filth of reality and life into the wonder, delight and intimacy of true and genuine love. It is a woman who is able to clean her lover’s bottom of his waste and love him and whisper her aching and longing for him. It is the seamless movement of a father lifting up his robes, running down the road to embrace his pig slopped son. It is a God who takes us out of the pit of our disgusting filthy sin, picks us up into His divine arms and holds us close in redemptive love and grace. That is seamless love. And when we recognize seamless love, it overpowers us with its beauty and grace. May God reveal to us more and more the beauty of His seamless love in us and through us.

An Odd Connection: Muggeridge Meets Elihu

I scare myself. My mind makes such odd connections sometimes. The odd connections fascinate me, but simultaneously confuse me. They fascinate me because typically the odd connection is to a verse in the Bible which I have read many times and I get excited to see the link. The thoughts confuse me because I typically have not heard a preacher connect that Bible verse to anything else, which makes me wonder “am I the only one who thinks such strange things?”

For instance, I was listening to Ravi Zacharias on a podcast recently as he lectured a group of students at Oxford. He quoted Malcolm Muggeridge: “Indeed, I can say with complete truthfulness that everything I have learned in my seventy-five years in this world, everything that has truly enhanced and enlightened my existence, has been through affliction and not through happiness, whether pursued or attained. In other words, if it ever were to be possible to eliminate affliction from our earthly existence…the result would not be to make life delectable, but to make it too banal or trivial to be endurable. This of course is what the cross signifies, and it is the cross more than anything else, that has called me inexorably to Christ.”  

As I listened to that quote, I heard the distinct sound of two previously unrelated thoughts, separated by time and space, come together like two railroad cars, now linked together on the same track. As I listened to the Muggeridge quote, I thought of a verse tucked away in the book of Job, words spoken by Elihu, the only wise man among the four friends of Job. 

"But those who suffer he delivers in their suffering;
   he speaks to them in their affliction.
 ¹⁶ “He is wooing you from the jaws of distress
   to a spacious place free from restriction,
   to the comfort of your table laden with choice food.
¹⁷ But now you are laden with the judgment due the wicked;
   judgment and justice have taken hold of you.
¹⁸ Be careful that no one entices you by riches;
   do not let a large bribe turn you aside.
¹⁹ Would your wealth or even all your mighty efforts
   sustain you so you would not be in distress?
²⁰ Do not long for the night,
   to drag people away from their homes.
²¹ Beware of turning to evil,
   which you seem to prefer to affliction."

Elihu was the last of Job’s friends to speak, hesitant because of his youth and his respect for the elders who had spoken before him. What I find so interesting is the last line from this speech: “Beware of turning to evil, which you seem to prefer to affliction.” Couple this with Muggeridge’s quote: “everything that has truly enhanced and enlightened my existence, has been through affliction and not through happiness, whether pursued or attained. In other words, if it ever were to be possible to eliminate affliction from our earthly existence…the result would not be to make life delectable, but to make it too banal or trivial to be endurable.”

Odd things to say, perhaps, even cold and heartless things to say to a man who had suffered as Job had; by this time. Job had lost house, property, servants, family, prestige, health and even the support of his wife. There seemed to be nothing else that could be taken away from him. Yet, Muggeridge, a writer and editorialist, who witnessed much affliction in the lives of others and experienced it in his own life apparently agreed with Elihu.  A twentieth century brilliant writer agreed with the sentiments of Elihu, spoken around 450 B.C., by some accounts.

Do we agree?  Do we normally perceive, let alone, accept, affliction in this way-whether that affliction be in our own lives or in the lives of those we love? I dare say not. Normally, in our earthly skin, we typically seek comfort and are averse to affliction. We do all we can to avoid affliction. I avoid it not only for myself, but even try to keep my teenage children from encountering affliction, even though at times it seems they are on a willful and intentional crash course with what I know will be cause for affliction. Affliction is, at all costs, something we seek to avoid, deflect, and pray, end quickly. In fact, affliction has become nearly synonymous with evil; it is unwanted, unwelcome and unappreciated. 

Elihu saw, however, that for all of the afflictions that had befallen Job, those afflictions were, in fact, being used by a sovereign God to woo Job from the very jaws of distress, being used by a perfect God to bring Job into a spacious place free from distress. And, he warns Job to not “kick against the goads” as it were. Sometimes, to resist affliction is, perhaps, a preference for evil over affliction. Indeed, to return to Muggeridge’s wisdom, a life free from all affliction will most likely turn us to ingratitude, to boredom, and ultimately, to evil. 

Elihu reminds Job, and us, that in the midst of affliction, God speaks to us.  As the famous twentieth century apologist, C.S. Lewis wrote in The Problem of Pain” “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”  May we be people who train our hearts to not run from affliction, but in the midst of our affliction to run straight into the arms of the loving God who speaks to us, holds us in His tight divine embrace and whispers His love to us.

LOVING QUIETLY

I live. I mother. I wife.  I lawyer. I daughter.  I sister, and I friend.  All those non verbs, all those things that I am, demand that I do.  So I cook, clean, love, make love, talk, cry, help, read, analyze, marvel, think, process, make decisions, raise teenagers, cry some more, kiss my husband, laugh, dance with my children, and the list could go on touching most every verb in Webster’s Dictionary from Aa through Zz. My life is far from quiet. It is a continual melding of activities and blending of significant and peripheral people’s lives into mine and mine into theirs. But in the past two months, my life has been pushed into a period of reflection simply because many markers have suddenly appeared on my life‘s road. Suddenly, not as in unexpected.  Suddenly, as in, “wow, am I already this far along on the journey?” 

For instance, my husband and I celebrated twenty years of married bliss…and we thought about our first date, first kiss and first night.  Our daughter went back for another year of college...fraught with all the tension that the process of finding and forming identity brings.  Our twin sons turned 15 and it was easy to think back to holding them at the Chiang mai airport for the first time face to face. Our second daughter is thinking through college choices and mapping her career. My father had a stroke and this very intelligent man who speaks at least three languages fluently, now tells my sister that his hand is a fox. My mother is learning to live a new normal after 60 years of intimate and day to day conversations with her husband who is now significantly hampered in his ability to communicate.  My routine now consists of regular drives to Cleveland with many monotonous miles of highway on which to think and reflect.

This is what I have been thinking today: that my Father in heaven has often been, and is now, often very quiet in His love for me. What I mean is that He is so often not flashy in the ways He demonstrates love for me. I thought about this when my daughter mentioned something about a gift she had been given and was asking me if I remembered any conversations which would have set the giving of the gift in motion. Ah, my maternal pride would have loved to say “yes, I was totally behind it.” But I could not honestly say that. And I simply had to admit: “sometimes the Lord is just quiet in the ways He loves us.”  Sometimes, He leaves no calling card, no gift card other than the gift itself. And He leaves it up to us to trace the gift to the Giver.

Why?  Why not have flash and bang and sis boom bah when He leaves the gift?  A little gift card that unabashedly and incontrovertibly announces: “To: Ellen,  Love: God.”  It makes things so much easier at bridal showers, for instance, when someone sits beside the bride to be. This person’s sole duty is to meticulously and carefully keep track of who gave what. That way no giver will feel unappreciated or unloved. In fact, nowadays, the givers all receive little note cards, prestamped with the bride to be’s return address already written,  on which the giver writes her address, so as to make it easy for the bride to be. Why doesn’t God make it that easy and just leave His prestamped, self-addressed calling card or gift card along with every gift? Why risk being unappreciated and unloved or why not get acknowledged?

I think it is because the gift card mandates “thank me.”  But, when our precious Father in heaven quietly leaves a gift it says “seek me.”  We start the process of tracing the gift to the Giver and coming face to face, we can say to Him, “thank you…I didn’t realize it was you. But now I see.” 

I know that “every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights.” (James 1:17) But sometimes, in the midst of verbs and doing, I forget that thanking does not always lead to seeking Him, but seeking Him and finding Him as the giver of every good and perfect gift does lead to thanking Him.

Waiting for Redemption

The story of the prodigal son is famous. We know about the son who came to his father and demanded his share of the inheritance. How he received that inheritance from the father, even though it was not the right time for him to get that inheritance. And, of course, he squandered it. Sometimes pastors will say that really this story is about the kind and compassionate father, the merciful father who welcomed back the prodigal son with open arms and great rejoicing. Then the story becomes one in which the father is a type of God, i.e. even when we literally spit in the face of God, He will forgive us when we return. As we listen to the sermon, we are very thankful that we have such a kind and loving father in heaven. I believe this is true; it a good and right interpretation of the parable.

The story referred to as “The Prodigal Son” is, indeed, a beautiful picture of a very godly and loving man. The picture we see of him is he is waiting, yearning for his son, looking down the road. Then he sees him from a from a distance and runs down the long dirt road to throw his arms around his son’s neck and hug the breath out of him. The father is so happy and so thankful to see his son, he sacrifices his self respect and actually runs down the road, not caring what the neighbors think, not caring what the servants might think, or whether it looked respectable for a man his age to run down the road, holding his robes up so nothing would hinder his race to hug his son. This is surely one of my favorite pictures in the New Testament.

However, we also know that parables are not the same as allegories. In allegories, each character represents a specific type or quality; thus in The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser, Una represents truth, the knight represents the Christian wayfarer, etc. But in parables, the symbolism isn’t quite as tight. So, journey with me for a moment. Let’s assume that the father in the story is not a type of God. What if he really is a human being, a father who demonstrates incredible love and mercy, yes, but nonetheless, a human father. Well, if we see the father in Luke 15 as a human father, then we know he is not perfect. The Bible says that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:26) This father was not perfect. And therein lies the gist of today’s little blog.

I have been thinking a lot about this passage from a slightly different vantage point. I wonder whether the father and son fought for months and years before the father relented and said, “yes, here is your share of the inheritance.” Did he argue with his son? Did he try to convince him to pursue another course of action? Did they have weeks of tension in the house? Did people walk around on eggshells for fear that the wrong Hebrew word might be spoken? Was it just a miserable existence for the family in the home? Did the son sulk around the house, slamming doors?

Sometimes I wonder how many years that father waited. Was it a matter of months? Was it years? Was it a matter of days? Did he go through a period of thinking “he’ll be back soon enough! Then he’ll see.” Or did he start there and then move to the level of “what if never comes back?” to “surely he’s got to come back.” [I doubt he got to that point, because he would not have been waiting for him, looking down the road had he thought his son would never come back.]

Here is my biggest wonder: did he ever sit there on the doorstep thinking “what did I do wrong?” or did he ever think “how did I get to this place with my beloved son?” Maybe he even played the litany in his head. You know, the litany of “things I did wrong.” “Was I too strict?” “Was I too easy?” “Was I stubborn?” “Was I too controlling?” “What could I have done differently?” “How could I let him go?” “God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob…what if he never comes back?”

You see, any parent, any person, goes through that period, the waiting for redemption of a pain. For some it is not a big pain. For some the pain is excruciating. As parents, the pain we sometimes feel related to raising our children can be so deep, so gaping, so chronic we wonder if, as Jeremiah said, “our wound is incurable.” Isn’t that an awful thought?

Then we have not only the depth of the pain, the wound, but we have the issue of how long. How long will I wait for my wound to heal? Will I ever be whole again? Can I ever be whole again? Will I ever be able to not hurt? Will this nagging ache ever go away? It isn’t necessarily a long wait for some. For others it is a dreadfully long wait. For some we go through that “ha! They’ll see what life is like out there in the cold harsh world. A little reality check is all he or she needs for them to come running back.”

I guess what I came to after thinking about this father as a human parent, an imperfect parent, a parent like me, or like my husband, for some time, is that the father of the prodigal son could have thought all those things. He could have thought every single one of them. He could have done the litany in his head a thousand times if he did it once. But what I love is that even if he did the litany of the “shoulda, coulda, wouldas” he did not stop going out to the porch, he didn’t stop looking, he didn’t give up hope, he did not accept the present as the forever. He stationed himself daily at the door post, watching, hoping, looking, scanning, the horizon, waiting for redemption.

And one day… there he was. A tiny dot in the far distance…but how could he not recognize that lanky gait, the tousled hair, the strong jawline…surely it was his son. And off he ran.
I am waiting for redemption. Are you? Are you waiting for the redemption of a pain? A wound? Do you feel your wound is incurable? Do you feel that it is too deep? Too wide? Your fault? The litany? You could go through it…but to what end? Ultimately we wait not even for understanding, for figuring out the why and why-not. Ultimately we wait for redemption from the hand of the King. So, I am waiting and I look and I scan and I do so in this confidence: “Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him.” (Isaiah 64:4) Beloved friends, I am not waiting for the situation to change, although I do believe it may, I am not waiting for anyone to change, self included, although, this too shall surely happen. I am not waiting for anything or anyone other than the Lord Himself. I am waiting for Him, for He Himself is my redemption in any situation, any circumstance any pain any wound.

The bottom line is this…God is a God of redemption. He redeemed the cross, and therefore, will He withhold any other good thing from us? (Romans 8 ) If you, too, are waiting for redemption, then remember that our God is in the business of redeeming and therefore, keep hoping, keep looking, keep scanning the horizon, keep waiting for Him, who is our redemption. Surely, God is good to Israel, those who put their trust in Him will never be disappointed. (c.f Isaiah 45:17)

The Accidental Explorer

The children still talk about it, and I can even laugh about it now after five years. When we first moved to Columbus, we went on a hunt for the local library. My husband had given me “sort of” directions but had accidentally forgotten the second half of a two name street. Not ever seeing the two name street, I never turned and ended up looking for the library in an industrial park, probably about ten miles away, two hours, many wrong turns, and much frustration later. How many times can you listen to “Hey Mom, I think we already passed this but it was on the other side of the street before.” As it turns out, the library is six minutes and four turns from our house. I had spent a lot of time driving in circles, and every conceivable geometric design, getting to someplace very far to a place which was very close.

However, after months, years, of driving in circles, getting lost and generally gorging myself on map quest and google maps, I am getting to know my way around. In fact, after a while, I find that I’ll be driving down a street, find that it intersects another, and think “This looks vaguely familiar. Oh, I didn’t know this street connected with this.” Or “Wow, I had no idea that these two roads ever met.” “Hey, I didn’t know I could get here from there.” It comes from years of driving in the same neighborhoods and, frankly, being willing to get lost on the road and driving until I get to where I need to be. The getting lost is never fun for anyone but the accidental exploration of the familiar territory is exciting…for me, anyway.

Sometimes when I am reading a verse in Scripture, I think “hey this sounds familiar, but it was on the other side of the page the last time.” Or, “hmm, does this Scripture connect with this other one over here?”

Pretend you are in the car with me. Driving straight

Psalms 12:5 & 6: “Because of the oppression of the weak and the groaning of the needy, I will now arise, says the Lord. I will protect them from those who malign them. And the words of the Lord are flawless, like silver refined in a furnace of clay, purified seven times.”

Furnace of clay…purified seven times…

Take a soft left turn

Daniel 3. This is the account of three young men who feared God in a foreign land even more than they honored the king. King Nebuchadnezzar, the head of the Persian empire around 600 B.C., had built a rather ostentatious statue to himself and had set up a handy schedule by which all in the empire would know the proper time to turn, face the statue, fall down and worship the statue. “But there [were] some Jews whom [he] had set over the affairs of the province of Babylon-Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego-who pay no attention to [Nebuchadnezzar]. They neither serve [his] gods nor the image of gold [he had] set up.” [Daniel 3:11, 12] The other wise men had ratted out these three young captive leaders and they were brought before King Nebuchadnezzar to account for their failings. They refused to bow and were willing to suffer the consequences of their faith in God. “Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to the king, "O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." [Daniel 3:16-19]

Stay with me, I’m still driving…but no longer in circles. I am seeing familiar signs. My turns are a little less random

Nebuchadnezzar was furious (vs 19) He ordered the furnace (getting closer) heated SEVEN TIMES HOTTER than usual. Hey, this Scripture intersects with Psalms12:6! The very high, very hot, seven times hotter than usual heat, which Nebuchadnezzar intended to incinerate the young men to ashes, was the same heat which God intended to purify these young men, as silver is refined seven times.

Take a hard right here…because I think I am on to something.

Why does Nebuchadnezzar feel like the furnace has to be heated up seven times hotter than normal? Uhm, wouldn’t the fire have burned up these young men in their “robes, trousers, turbans and other clothes” anyway? Nebuchadnezzar heated up the furnace so hot “that the flames of the fire killed the soldiers who took up Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.” The fire, seven times hotter than normal, was intended by Nebuchadnezzar to decimate the men. God intended it to purify them, like silver in a furnace of clay, intended that they would come forth as a testimony of His grace, power and protection, without even the smell of fire on them. [Daniel 3:27] And when they got out of the furnace Nebuchadnezzar said: "Praise be to the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who has sent his angel and rescued his servants! They trusted in him and defied the king's command and were willing to give up their lives rather than serve or worship any god except their own God. Therefore I decree that the people of any nation or language who say anything against the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego be cut into pieces and their houses be turned into piles of rubble, for no other god can save in this way." [Daniel 3:28, 29]

Does it feel like you’re in a furnace right now? Getting hot? Consider this possibility: you are a letter, a testimony if you will, written on His heart, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ…written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. [2 Cor 3:2 & 3] You are His word, His letter, refined in a furnace of clay, stoked seven times hotter than normal. But so also will you be purified seven times, for the display of His splendor.

Was that too many left turns?

Gawking at the Sky

“You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. "Men of Galilee," they said, "why do you stand here looking into the sky? (Acts 1:8-11)

Well, why do you think? Jesus had just given them the most significant, challenging, important and life altering job assignment they would ever receive. He was talking about power, Holy Spirit, Samaria, witnessing, Judea and suddenly, He was gone. Whoosh. Like a David Copperfield magic act, Jesus was gone. Was He coming back? When would He appear again? What were the disciples supposed to do next? Wait? Leave? What?

For the disciples, Jesus’ sudden disappearance was just one more strange event in the series of strange events of the past two months.

1. Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem (Disciples think: woohoo…we are in good with this extremely popular guy who is going to rule Israel and conquer the Romans!)
2. Jesus’ death on the cross and burial in a borrowed tomb (Disciples think: oh no…we don’t really want to be seen with this guy.)
3. Jesus rises from the dead (Disciples think: Having a hard time with this.)
4. Jesus appears now here, then there, sometimes to one, sometimes to all, for forty days. (Disciples wonder: Are you staying?)

The context of the particular incident is a conversation between Jesus and the disciples. The disciples were thinking about power and ruling over the Romans, the restoration of a kingdom. They wanted to know times and dates. They wanted everything to happen now. Jesus just patiently answers, “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (One can almost feel the spirits of the disciples sag as Jesus said this.)

Imagine what was going through the minds of the disciples as He was saying this. Jesus was talking about power from the Holy Spirit, being His witnesses. He told them they were going to go into Samaria. Samaria. What was that about? No one even walked through Samaria. They had always been taught to walk around Samaria. Besides, Samaria was a good five days of hard walking. Then, to make matters more complicated and confusing, Jesus told them they would go to the ends of the earth, wherever THAT was. And how long would it take for them to walk there? They needed to know, because, as far as they understood, once they had gone to the ends of the earth, He would restore the kingdom of Israel. And now, before He could tell them just how far the ends of the earth was, suddenly, He was just somewhere else.

Why wouldn’t they be staring intently at the sky? I picture the disciples with their heads up, gawking up at the sky where they had just seen Jesus ascend, with their mouths hanging open, in a rather undignified fashion.

Recently, my husband and I felt called by God to start a new ministry necessitating our leaving a very safe and comfortable job. We have four children one of whom is about to be launched to university. A home with a mortgage. And we like to eat. We have had jobs as a project manager, lawyer, pastor. Now He was calling us to something totally different. This was the biggest assignment of our lives. There was the rush of the excitement of the new calling, the fears of leaving the familiar, the pain of change and transition, the joy of confirmation in the call and then, suddenly, he was hidden from our sight. A cloud hid Him from what we could see. Confusion immediately swept in like a flood. What? Jesus, where are you? Was that you? Did you really say these things to us? If so, then where are you now?

Beloved, have you ever felt like Jesus was hidden from your sight by a cloud? Maybe when you have gone through a painful situation. Perhaps the job for which you moved across three states and yanked your children out of school just laid you off. Perhaps you have been betrayed by your spouse. There could be any myriad of circumstances that would have you confused, bewildered, angry, disappointed, or just plain lonely, abandoned even.

I can remember when we were about two months into the new thing and I was staring intently at the sky, as if staring at the sky would force Jesus to appear, hold my hand and assure me all was well. As if looking at the sky with intensity and anticipation would force His hand. I wasn’t waiting for His instruction, it was His presence that I wanted. Then the Lord, in that wonderful still, voice of His reminded me of one truth: I am with you. I'm in the cloud.

“By day the Lord went ahead of them in a cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night. Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people.” (Exodus 13:21-22)

Regardless of our feeling of abandonment, of desperate aloneness, of confusion, bewilderment, the truth is God is present. He has promised us: "The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31:8 He’ll never leave us, but sometimes He may hide within the cloud. The very cloud which hides Him from our feeble fleshly eyes, is the cloud wherein He dwells. Don’t despise the cloud. Don’t curse the cloud which hides Him from your view. The cloud is actually the sign of His presence with you. Follow the last instruction He gave, remember His promise to never leave you, and don’t just stand there, gawking at the sky.