Cloud and Current

maybe it’s been the overcast days of rain that beg for a hot cup of coffee, the poetic tune of turning leaves, the heart-swelling smell of homes warmed by wood-burning hearths . . . or maybe it’s just been the forced-slow-down interruptions of elk herds blocking me from leaving my front door . . . but words have just been b e c k o n i n g me to craft them into sentences.

I have never ever ever thought of starting a blog. But that’s not really what this is anyway. A blog feels like something people read. I hope no one reads this. I just hope that I can archive the emotions and swells and wildness and simplicity of my relationship with Christ here and then keep those thoughts forever.

So, cloud and current. I have to admit that “cloud and current” – as poetic as it sounds – was generated by every 2025-er’s favorite second-hand man, Chat. I feel wary of the brain-numbing, creativity sucking nature of artificial intelligence, but it is quite the frontier at the moment. And I, regretfully, don’t have quite enough margin to parse out each peak and valley of a whole dang frontier.

I originally asked Chat for a title with two words, one inspired by the old testament and one inspired by eternity. When I saw “cloud,” it nestled into that sweet spot in my soul that sighs . . . “that’s perfect.” Ever since I waded through the murky waters of my college breakup (that I seem to continually caveat as an “embarrassing” and “pathetic” trial to categorize as “suffering” 🙃 – but that’s for another entry), and read through the accounts of the Israelite’s sojourn through the wilderness, I have been deeply moved by “cloud.”

“The LORD went ahead of them. He guided them during the day with a pillar of cloud” Exodus 13:21a

At some point in that simultaneous walk through stabbing grief and the great sojourn of scripture, I came to a cavernous moment in my faith in God. At that moment in the timeline of my life, I, a tender twenty, stood looking ahead at a dark gloom. I couldn’t see past the black fog of vaporized dreams. I couldn’t see past the looming cloud stamped with the faint outline where the badge “chosen” used to lie. And in that moment, that poignant position, I all at once looked back – a few millennia back – at those chosen Israelite people who also stood with only a cloud in sight. But for the faith-filled of them, that cloud wasn’t a heavy blanket of gloom awaiting their next days, weeks and years. Rather, it was an assurance of the presence and covering of God.

To this day, I now look at clouds like Noah must have looked at rainbows. A hydrous mass, not that will soon drown me, but that will soon envelop me in the presence of God and pour out His restoration and blessing.

Hear the Word, roaring as thunder
With a new, future to tell
For the dry, season is over
There is a cloud, beginning to swell

There Is A Cloud by Elevation Worship

And when I saw “current,” it lilted through my mind in the melody of Never Run Dry by the Housefires. Valleys make room for the river of God. I remember painting that lyric on the cover of my Bible in high school. Valleys make room – carve the perfect pathway – for the river of God – for the waters which the Spirit hovered over and Jesus plunged His hand into and God makes flow from His heavenly dwelling – for that river to rush into every space, to water the parched ground and cause it to bring forth lush green – green like The Garden.

The second thought in my mind at the sight of “current” came from one of my more recently cherished verses . . .

“This hope [this confident assurance] we have as an anchor of the soul [it cannot slip and it cannot break down under whatever pressure bears upon it]—a safe and steadfast hope that enters within the veil [of the heavenly temple, that most Holy Place in which the very presence of God dwells].” Hebrews 6:19 AMP

I have found deep solace in picturing Christ as anchor in the current and waves. Growing up on the east coast and swimming in the Atlantic every summer has given me a reverence for the strength of the ocean waves. I am not so naive to think I can swim against the current – because I happen to actually know what a rip current feels like against my weak muscles and labored breath. And when translated to the divine, I am not so naive to think I can swim against either the current of the sin condition dragging my soul towards the fickle, though shiny, things of this world nor the current of the deep love of Jesus drawing me ever-nearer to the heart of my Savior.

So, cloud and current and the richness of words to only attempt to capture the swirling tides of my spirit dancing with The Spirit. It does feel like a homecoming, to the girl whose favorite subject was writing and whose first love was the only One she could ever think of locking eyes with.