Leader's Insight: Forget the Silver Lining

It’s hard to keep pointing out silver linings in other people’s clouds when storms rage in your personal life. But recently, God spoke to me from the clouds-sort of.

As I navigated through a turbulent week of ministry, another rogue wind of bad news nearly sucked the optimism out of my normally sunny sails. Recognizing that I was spending more time worrying than praying, I decided to take a day off to practice the spiritual discipline of solitude (spelled “y-a-r-d w-o-r-k”). It was one of those Midwestern spring days that began with plenty of sunshine and quickly worked its way into an irritable afternoon.

I stretched my aching back, looked up from my flowerbed at the western sky and chuckled. My mind had found some room to roam and a Peanuts cartoon flashed into my consciousness. Way back when I was a kid I had seen a cartoon strip in which Charlie Brown and his friends were lying on their backs gazing at clouds.

One of the gang, probably Linus, pointed and said something intellectual like, “That one looks like the Isle of Sicily.” Another, probably Lucy, said something equally impressive, “And that one looks like the molecular structure of a fiber optic cable!” (Okay she didn’t say that exactly, but it was something really brainy. It’s been far too long for me to recall every detail.)

After hearing the others pontificate their erudite observations, Charlie Brown, in typical self-deprecation, said under his breath, “I was going to say that those two clouds looked like a horse and a duck, but I think I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

My thoughts, propelled on this jet stream of free association, floated quickly to a comparison between my faith and the faith of Christian role models in my life. I thought about how I have felt when I have witnessed mature Christ followers observing the many deep things of God seen in the clouds of their lives. Honestly, even though I’ve put on a brave face, I have felt more like Charlie Brown than Lucy.

Sometimes, when the black clouds of doubt, or the billowy storm clouds of faltering finances, or the funnel clouds of failing health have hung heavy over my spirit, I have seen only the obvious, the elementary, the surface, the outline of the horse and duck in my circumstances. Thankfully, God, through His patient transformational work in my heart, has grown me up a little bit, so that I can see a little more deeply into the clouds than I did when I was a young believer.

And during this storm season when I had received news about an aunt diagnosed with cancer, a sister who struggled with a serious health issue of her own, and when an unexpected two-year-old surge of grief originating from the epicenter of my own father’s death washed over me, I really wanted to see something deeper in the clouds.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the thought rolled into my mind about how clouds, in the Bible, are often associated with God’s power, majesty, and presence. I could picture Moses in a legislative meeting on Mt. Sinai, and I could imagine the mountain topped with rumbling clouds as God signed the Bill of Righteousness. Then I thought about words from a praise song, with references to Revelation, proclaiming that when the Lord comes again, “It’s gonna be on the clouds of heaven.”

The first hint of wind at the leading edge of the cold front turned my thoughts toward my often self-centered walk with Christ. I shivered as I recalled so many times when I have wanted the wind to stop, or at least turn another direction and miss my family. (So what if it knocks other people to their knees.) When I have gotten caught up in difficult circumstances, clouds, to me, have looked only like dark days heavy with thunderous sorrow, hurling lightning strikes of suffering. Those clouds-the surface-level, horse and duck clouds-have seemed to mock the very existence of a God who is all-powerful and ever-present. And yet, God has used those same scary clouds to teach me more about Him.

The first drops of rain forced me inside, where I did a quick search for information about clouds. Up came a devotional thought from Oswald Chambers, who had written, “If there were no clouds, we should have no faith.” He goes on to explain that the clouds in our lives are a sign that God is truly there.

How so? I thought. How can one person look at a heart-breaking situation filled to overflowing with suffering and see only black clouds and floods of fear, when another can look at the very same clouds and see the mighty hand of a loving God at work?

And the answer hit me like a wind sheer. The reason people can see God in the clouds is because He chooses to allow us to see Him. He wants us to see Him. He longs for us to see Him. He may allow the clouds just so we’ll see Him. In fact, I’d go so far to say that sometimes He may even place the clouds there on purpose, so that we can see Him more clearly.

Chambers writes, “What a revelation it is to know that sorrow and bereavement and suffering are the clouds that come along with God!”

I sat in front of the computer, closing my eyes, lifting my face heavenward, and allowing the grace to splash all over me. God was raining it down.

After journaling the observations that dripped from that cloudy day of solitude, I went back outside, to the safety of our garage, and watched the storm. What a difference a couple of hours in God’s presence can make in a person’s dark disposition. I smiled as I counted the seconds between lightning strikes and thunder. God, you are so powerful! I prayed. Lord, in the clouds of my life, show me more of You.

I felt a bit like a child again. There I was, looking into the clouds, clinging to my Father’s strong hand in the midst of the scary storm. I looked past the horse and the duck, and I began to see the God of Wonders.

Clark Cothern is pastor of Living Waters Church in Ypsilanti, Michigan.

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