It's a good morning, even when it's pouring.

I want to tell you a cool story. 

The other day, I was driving home from Nevada and struggling with the goodness of God. I’ve been struggling with this a lot lately and have been trying to stay engaged through prayer instead of retreating into my flawed logical and “rational” thinking that often leads me nowhere, since the heartbreaks of this world are neither logical nor rational. 

I think a lot of us have these moments of doubt and uncertainty. Sometimes grief gets left unprocessed, or things take longer than we expect, or the world seems so overcome with tragedy that it becomes almost impossible to reconcile the supposed goodness of God with the reality of our circumstances. 

As I began my journey home through the brown rolling hills of Nevada and past the forest exits, I wrestled with these same themes. While I did, I was reminded of a memory from a similar trek I made just the year before. 

It was mid-March, and I was driving from my chosen family member’s home in Reno to a work event in Spokane and felt nervous about navigating a particular mountain pass in northeastern Oregon known for treacherous conditions that had mildly traumatized me the few times I had driven through it before. I prayed off and on as I brushed the border of Idaho and made my way north that the skies would be clear and I would make it safely to my destination. Once there, I began my ascent with anxiety and a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. 

As I eventually rounded the last bend, relieved to be heading downhill, I watched as a vast expanse of earth stretched out before me. The late afternoon sky was segmented by dueling weather patterns in a way that caused the rain and rays to intersect and create the most beautiful cloud formations. They were outlined in gold and hung over flatlands and mountains for miles in every direction, so imposing that I couldn't look away. The result was a sky that quite literally looked like it was peeing rainbows. 

I journeyed further down the mountain, eyes wide in wonder. At one point, I tried to take a photo to capture the splendor I was experiencing, but it turned out blurry and gray. I figured then that this moment must simply be a gift from God for us to enjoy together.

Feeling relieved as I made it to the base of the mountain without incident, I drove five minutes or so down flatter and more predictable terrain before turning right onto the highway that would lead to my destination. Rainbows still surrounded me as I looked ahead to a jaw-dropping display of color exploding in loud bursts from the sun as it set to my left. Wanting to capture the full spectrum of beauty, I turned my head slightly to the right and noticed the most spectacular moon rise simultaneously occurring. The moon seemed to fill half the sky and looked like it had been cut out of paper and placed on a backdrop of pastel purples and pinks. It was the quiet, but equally stunning, neighbor of the dramatic sun. In any direction I looked, the only word out of my mouth was, “Wow.” I couldn’t believe that these two impossibly beautiful scenes could exist at all, let alone at the exact same time with rainbows as their frame. It nearly brought me to tears. And that’s saying something.

A few days before this memory resurfaced, I took the photo you see above while standing on the shore of Hidden Beach in Lake Tahoe. It captivated me immediately, but it took me a while to understand that the reason it did was because of how it mirrors God in the natural world. I got splashed by the incoming wave that produced this photo.  The water speckled my glasses and dampened my clothes in a way that was slightly inconvenient but mostly humorous. As I look back on the photo, I see how much more water could’ve hit me if not for the rock shielding me as it absorbed the impact and redirected the surge. 

There are moments when we get glimpses of heaven on earth, and for me, many of these moments occur in nature. They also often occur in the exact moments that I need them most. I don’t think I’m alone in this. 

I can’t make sense of all of the broken things in this world, and I am still actively struggling with what it means for God to be good when life is so hard for so many. But then I remember how on a desolate road over a year ago, my fear turned into worship.  And I recall how standing on a narrow strip of sand before a bright blue lake reminded me that maybe it’s inevitable that we get splashed, but maybe that splash also reminds us of the things we are being shielded from. 

I don’t think it was a coincidence that my memory of driving that mountain pass settled over me as I once again sat alone on an open road earlier this week. I don’t think it was a coincidence, but I do think it was evidence. Evidence that God doesn’t take away all of the challenges, but he does make them beautiful. I think he wanted to show me that.

Now, if only he could turn this spider infestation I’m dealing with into something beautiful too, because I'm about ready to burn down the house...

xx

Titular Song: Good Morning by Surfaces