The sun beams. The grass beckons. I heed its welcome and lay on my back. Bare feet to the earth, knees upright to support my frame. Shielding my eyes, I stare at the sky naming each majestic cloud as an image I’ve formed in my mind’s eye. Horse. Chicken leg. Heart. I think about clouds as images. Clouds as covering. And somehow, I think about God…

Where is God in the clouds? How do I name that which I’ve deified? How cloudy are my images of God? What or who do I imagine God to be?

Tradition has given me some answers. Many words have been written to substantiate men’s beliefs about God. I’ve parroted a lot of them. But how do we truly begin to know God in that passionate, deep, mystical, unveiled knowing that Jesus speaks of in John 17:3, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent”?