Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.
Hebrews 12:1
I am grateful for this beautiful image given to us by the writer of the book of Hebrews. A great cloud of faith heroes whose faith through all the trials of their lives witnesses to the immense and mysterious love and faithfulness of God, even when we don’t understand what is happening in our lives. A great cloud of faith-filled men and women who are now watching and witnessing our lives from wherever they might be in the Great Beyond. I see them somewhere in the heavenly bleachers, cheering us on as we’re down on the field, running the race of life and living out our days here on this good earth. Supporting us. Eager to see us do well. Eager to see us shun the wrong and get things right. To hold fast to our faith in God’s purpose and love in our lives and in the life of our world.
As I take my daily walks through my neighborhood this spring, I’ve discovered another cloud of witnesses in these later years of my life. The daffodils, the crocuses, the spring cherry trees, the tiny bluebells and the even tinier periwinkles. The dogwood and magnolia trees, the lush Andromeda, the shy violets. They greet me each day as I pass by, nodding their blossoms in the gentle spring breeze. And as I return their greetings, I’m reminded of something that Carlo Carretto, an Italian priest who spent years in a North African desert, once said: “You must not believe it is only you who look at things; try to believe that things look at you.”
These precious little flowers looking at me? Cheering me on like that heavenly host? Offering me the stories of their difficulties and endurance? Whispering that I am not alone in this magical, mystical journey through my years?
I have come to see them, yes, in just that way, as witnesses to my life, cheering me on. Reminding me of the wonder of the God of all creation, who called into life the Himalayas, the ocean, the tiny purple violets, and my tiny life. They pour into my life the richness of their pinks and blues, their shining whites and yellows, the multiple shades of purple that all witness to a wondrous presence of joy at the core of all of life. They witness to the faithfulness of the Creator who sustains life through icy winters and summer storms. They sing to me a sacred song of a holy God who yearns for us to live our lives according to God’s ways and to care for the exquisite beauty he called into life so many eons ago.
Yes, like the heavenly cloud of witnesses beyond, these spring delights have become for me an earthly cloud of witnesses. They both are such a gift!
from the slow lane 