Above the Clouds

When I was eleven I took my camera on an airplane for the first time. I spent almost an entire roll of film trying to capture the view of the sky from above. I was mesmerized by the way the clouds appeared to be solid, as though I could step out of the plane and walk on them. I loved the way the light played on the clouds, turning them alternately white, pink, orange, blue, and gray.

I was thinking about that today as I soared above the clouds at sunset, and pondering why it is that people often imagine that God lives in that space high in the sky above and among the clouds. I think we like the image of God above us, with an unlimited panoramic view, ever watching over us and watching out for us. But I think there's more to it than that. When God feels distant, it seems logical that God lives in some remote place that we can't really reach. And, while we can access that space now with the help of aircraft, we cannot be there without special equipment, and we certainly can't remain there for any great length of time. That means that imagining God in the sky adds to the mystery of the divine. The light is somehow different there; whether the brilliance of the sun, the soft glow of the moon, or the tiny pinpricks of stars, the light is never obscured-divine light is always shining. It is an inaccessible wonderland of mystical, ethereal beauty, so it seems the ideal place to imagine for God's home.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that God is a limited being who exists far up in the sky gazing down on us. I believe in an incarnate and ever-present God who is with us where we are. But I can see why God might want to hang out up there, too, and I can understand why we imagine God living in such a beautiful, mysterious place. I'd like to live there, too, if I could.