“Mama, I want to sit on a cloud.”
YES! I thought. She’s mine! Never had I heard anyone voice this same dream of mine until my young daughter spoke that phrase a few weeks ago. In fact, I’ve gotten dubious looks from others when I’ve shared that desire. I was happy to assure her that her imagination is welcomed here.
Calianne’s statement bonded us for life, as if we needed another verification that we’re two peas in a pod. It also got me thinking about why I love to gaze at clouds, and not just gaze, but envision how they got there and what’s beyond them. Did you know there’s a whole world beyond the level of commercial jets? May seem like a dumb question, but really, we can see glimpses of what’s out there, but is it bigger and smarter and better than us?
Lacking hope in what may be beyond (and better than) the limits of this life is a confining way to spend a few decades; in fact, some may call it closed minded. Studying the skies anchors me to hope and reminds me to focus on the holy. If we’re unwilling to be awed by something beyond ourselves, if we humans are convinced that we’ve got it all in hand and we’re the collective best there is, who are we to know whether we’re missing out on something huge, something necessary, even vital?
Even scientists admit that we use a very small part of our brains, which I think is interesting, considering many of those scientists are quite influential critics of God. Assume for a moment that the Genesis account of sin’s entry into the world is true; could it be that a world starved of holiness has crippled our very brains? Without the effects of unholiness, would we always be aware, in awe, and possibly even appreciative of all that still is holy? Because, let’s be honest, for all our best efforts and kindest motivations, we humans haven’t touched holy on our own.
Let’s just say for kicks that God does exist and he is everything he claims to be. Imagine him as holy.
For a moment, focus on what holiness is. In layman’s terms, holiness is everything perfect–in a more profound way of being perfect than we can fathom. It is wholly beyond us. Holiness is awe-inspiring and far from us, yet part of its intrigue is that it chooses to hold us. We cannot begin to access it ourselves, but it is so beyond good that it seeks us out despite our rejection of it. I love this quote from Brennan Manning that describes transcendence and immanence, two characteristics of God’s holiness that may seem opposite, but that sum up the essence of who he is:
“Transcendence means that God cannot be confined to the world. . . . Immanence, on the other hand, means that God is wholly involved with us, . . . that he is here in his mysterious nearness. . . . Disregard of God’s immanence deprives us of any sense of intimate belonging, while inattention to his transcendence robs God of his godliness.”
If we go through our days without pausing to let our minds gaze on the holy, who are we to know what we’re missing?