Cloud-Shapes

When I was a little girl (Oh, SO many years ago! :-D), my brothers and I had a game called cloud-shapes, a game which is probably as old as clouds- and certainly has been around for as long as there have been children! There were no rules, really, but the object was to watch clouds, and find as many shapes as you could- sometimes arguing a little with the other players before deciding what a certain cloud REALLY resembled. It was a game generally reserved for long car trips and boredom.
The habit of watching clouds, however, has a way of invading one's life at odd, and unexpected times. For instance, the day, when I was 11 or so, when I stepped out of our front door, and stopped aghast to see that a mountain range had sprung up on the Eastern horizon overnight- great, shadowy, charcoal peaks were looming, touched with a white gleaming of morning sun, where before there had only been a level stretch of trees. I have seen real mountains which looked less real! I felt as though an hour's walk would have brought me to their feet. Yet, even as I stood there, a brisk wind sprung up, and, before my eyes the 'mountains' blurred, faded, and were gone.
Years later, while riding in the car one evening, I looked out, and saw, stretched out ahead of us, a great, glowing lake of sunset fire- yellow quartz and opal flamed with ruby. All about it, hung misty fir trees like pillars of amber, and their reflections burned brassily on the burnished surface of the lake. Beyond, and beyond, and beyond drifted a mighty forest of shadows, warm breaths of terra-cotta fading at last to impenetrable, dusky blue in its depths. It seemed to open out into a land of such fiery, magnificent grandeur- one felt that forgotten riches lay beyond those hinted hills shimmering on its seeming horizon. I expected the highway at any moment to melt away, and pour itself into that flamy golden country just ahead. But instead, the night came on, and the glimmering horizon faded, and blackness stole over the cloudy forest tree by tree, until their inky reflections in the lake quenched its shifting allure of fire. And soon, only a few lone sparks burned through the ashes of the sky. And the land of cloud was gone.
My dreams and plans seem so often to resemble the shapes I see in the clouds- they drift awhile, shifting, and changing, forming, and re-forming, until at last I cannot recognize them myself- like roses, as time goes by they open, and change, and bloom into an entirely new, and different beauty. Everything is static. And sometimes, if I have been walking a while with my eyes on the ground in front of me, when I direct my gaze 'skyward' again, I am astonished- because the pictures I find there are unfamiliar- far from the things I had formed- but sometimes, arrestingly lovely. And I am bewildered. Childishly, I expected THOSE clouds to hold their shape, to rest unchanging in the long blueness of the sky- and they have betrayed me.
I can despair then, realizing that the old clouds can never be had back again. I can go on, convinced that THESE clouds, are different, and may be relied upon, unlike the last. (And, knowing the ever changing nature of clouds, and human directions, one can imagine where I will end up!) Or, I can, discovering the inadequacy of my own dreams and plans- not only the 'RIGHT' ones, but the 'WRONG' ones- the personal loves and longings I'd often striven to eradicate, deliberately choose to follow not any longer after clouds, but rather, after the MAKER of clouds, and of me. The truth is, people never end up where they expected. Hudson Taylor's ministry was not at all what he planned- but it was just what was needed. Jim Elliot's great achievement was far from his personal hopes and expectations. Amy Carmichael, 'Amy of India', began by being called to Japan, and then to China! Dohnavur never entered into her farthest dreamings. Marie Drown expected to translate the Bible in China- and ended up raising five children in the jungles of Ecuador. Yet, their ultimate goal- that the Lamb who was slain might have the reward of His sufferings- that Christ, seated triumphant in eternity might be glorified- THIS was unchanging- and THIS was achieved.
So where do I go from here? When the wind comes up, and blasts my peaceful clouds into shapes and directions I didn't expect, and only half hoped for- when thunder crashes, and I realize that the direction I thought I was heading has faded completely out of view, and that something entirely new- half alluring, half terrifying is sweeping into my sky- what can be done?
I wondered last night, when I realized that my cloud-shapes had changed, for better or for worse. Part of me, sheer stubborness perhaps, protested, and still protests that I've 'put my hand to the plough'- that I PROMISED God to follow Him no matter what, and am now 'going back'. But I never promised to follow Him there- only to follow wherever He led. And the path has begun to veer. It seemed though, as I was lying in bed, that the path did not swerve, but rather, split, and I could not tell which way to follow.
It was then, at the heighth of the agony of it- when, tossing and turning on the pillow, I had begun to despair of ever finding an answer, that the answer came. I happened to glance up at the VOM world map on my wall. I saw the dark shapes of the continents in the dim light from the window, and someone seemed to be asking me "Who made all of these?"
"Why, God did", I replied.
"Did He create the people who live there as well?", the voice queried.
"Yes, all of them."
"EVERY tongue, tribe and nation? The children? Even the children?"
I began to be annoyed with this persistent questioner. "Yes, I told you, He made them ALL!"
"And all of the ministries that reach out to them- are those from Him as well?" I nodded.
"You, Sharon, did He make you?"
"Of course. He created me."
"And did He even make..."
"Yes, oh yes, He did! All, all, all of it- He made us all!"
"Then," (and here my questioner began to sound very stern) "Do you think that He is not able to guide each of you, and guide you wisely, and guide you to His glory? Or do you suppose that the One who made ALL of this is unable to dispose of it?"
"Promise me, promise me, Lord", I begged, "that You will lead us in the right direction, and not let us be turned aside, and be with me in all of this bewilderment of shifting plans- promise, or I CANNOT go any further!"
"My love, I promised"
It's true- He promised. His Word is one great, tumbling stream of promises- and He has kept me thus far. But He promised again. Have you ever felt the smoothness of a sympathetic hand on your forehead when you are burning up with fever, or shaking with chills? It soothed like that. I laid my hand on the map, repeated the promise, and finally, fell asleep.
"Happiness is never shipwrecked, or sacrificed, or stolen. It's chosen. And it's You. And oh, sweet Lord, I WILL CHOOSE!" No matter what pictures I am seeing today in the clouds. No matter where they lead me. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote: "God doesn't grant all our desires, but He does keep all His promises."

'Run the straight race through God's good grace
Lift up thine eyes and seek His face;
Life with its way before us lies,
Christ is the path, and Christ the prize." (!)- Monsell