From The Goldfields
God-Talk: Clouds
The Revd Dr Elizabeth J Smith AM, Mission Priest, Parish of The Goldfields
We get a lot of flat, blue, sunlit skies up here, so I’m always intrigued by contrasting cloud formations. Early and late in the day, the sun may slant through on strange angles, adding colour and contrast. In stormy weather, ragged patches of blue can be spotted behind the shaggy grey clouds chasing each other across the sky. On misty mornings, rare in this dry climate, the cloud hangs so low that its dampness blankets the ground and leaves tiny droplets on each spiderweb.
Today the sky looked half-and-half blue and sombre grey, and clear enough for a brisk walk without the need to carry an umbrella or wear a waterproof coat. After half an hour, though, almost within sight of the end of the path, fat drops of rain came pelting down from a fat grey cloud that had sailed out of nowhere to startle and spatter me.
There is so much going on in the air around us that we cannot sense, and that even the Bureau of Meteorology’s wonderful maps and measurements cannot show us. Above us, mysterious cascades and fountains of air splash and clash. Mountains of moisture rise and fall with changing pressure and temperature.
Invisible currents swirl and retreat, and only a hovering hawk or eagle can discover and ride them.
Life with Jesus Christ, the Lord of the cosmos, is likewise deeply mysterious, imperfectly perceptible, and endlessly intriguing.
Sometimes I can see Christ the Creator shining in a rainbow, drenching thirsty hearts with a downpour of grace, wafting the breath of the Spirit into people gasping for fresh resurrection air. Sometimes I am buffeted, blown away, by the sheer power of transforming forgiveness and radical, overwhelming love.
Sometimes Christ is busy stirring up energy on the edges of my awareness, while I am focussed in another direction.
The currents of the work of Christ in the world are not all fully accessible to my perception, though I try to train my awareness to look for good news beyond my own well-being and self-interest. I pray for many things: personal, global, pastoral, neighbourly. I pray through Christ, and sometimes I pray to Christ. And Christ the Creator hears and responds to all these prayers, though not always as I expect, or want, or recognise. Perhaps the invisible streams of living water poured out and swirling around me are an answer to someone else’s desperate prayer, or to the chorus of millions of heartfelt entreaties for peace, for justice, for kindness to prevail.
If even the weather can be hard to read, how much trickier it is to measure accurately what the Lord of the cosmos is doing in the world! So I will not be too quick to announce that I have clearly discerned the signs of the times and come to an absolute conclusion. Instead, I will concentrate my awareness on evidence of love and forgiveness, of new beauty and old wisdom circulating together, bringing hope to the world.