Sometimes when Alana is sleeping, I like to peek in and watch her rest. Even after the longest, most tiring, energy-sapping day, it still brings me comfort to gaze on her peaceful little body while she sleeps. Some days I feel the same way about God. I almost feel jealousy when I read about the Israelites and their ‘cloud by day and pillar of fire by night’.
I daydream about life in the desert. I imagine myself quietly sneaking out of bed each night, to peel back a tiny flap on my tent, eyes wide reflecting flames, as I watch the fiery column dance against a pitch black sky. Yup, He’s still here.
Doesn’t it feel like that though. It seems so obvious. My heart reels when I see Him in the mountains, or catch His design in the delicate wing of a butterfly. I hear Him speak when children laugh or through the rush of foamy sea, yet some days I still long for that flame bold pillar.
I think it’s because I like the idea of a constant reminder even as I myself wander. I think if we all were truly honest with ourselves, we’d be quick to admit how frequently our minds wander in the desert. We all harbor places in our soul that are nothing but a barren wasteland. Nothing can thrive when we go ‘there’. We won’t see any fruit in our desert, because it can’t survive. What’s your desert?
When we camp in that hostile terrain we better have eyes to see the cloud, and a heart that remembers the pillar. The more I think about it, the same God that made bread fall from the sky, that parted seas, still glows like a torch in my life everyday. Even when my thoughts wander the desert, He shines as a reminder of who He is in the ordinary.
Maybe you’re like me and you crave that extra peek. Is the fire still lit? Is the cloud still there? God can you hear me? God hears our prayers no matter how well rehearsed or how frail. We don’t need any special place, fancy routine, or even qualifications to pray. You just have to do it. Then keep your eyes wide open and you’ll spot the cloud. You’ll see flames dance.