The King Above the Clouds

A few months ago, I boarded an airplane on a stormy day. Rain poured and wind howled. I arrived at the gate, popped a Dramamine in my mouth to prevent motion sickness, found my seat, and buckled up tight. I stared out the window at the sheets of rain and ominous clouds. We taxied down the runway, lifted into the air, and bounced and shuddered our way toward the sky. My stomach tightened and my face turned pale. I checked to make sure there was an airsick bag at my seat. The first fifteen minutes were rough.

I watched the storm out my window as the plane ascended. We went into the clouds, and for a couple minutes I could see nothing but grey. But then we ascended above the clouds, and above the clouds, the sun shined. The grey remained below but the sky above gleamed blue. The turbulence stopped. Color reentered my face. Above the clouds it was a beautiful summer day.

This image has become a metaphor for me. When a time of crisis hits—struggle, heartache, pain—I need, first, to experience it. Ignoring the storm does no good. No, the storm is there. I need to weep, to pray, to ask questions, and to seek counsel and community. But at some point, I ache to see above the clouds, to be reminded of the bigger picture that God is still on his throne. I need to see his glory.

Perhaps you’ve felt the same. Perhaps recent weeks have brought heartache. Or maybe not just recent weeks, but months, even years. Or maybe it was a phone call you received just yesterday. Or a frightening diagnosis from the doctor. Maybe loneliness darkens your day and your soul, or that temptation that won’t go away. Or perhaps you made a poor decision, and you feel enveloped in a cloud of regret.

I pray you will see above the clouds.

Matthew had this desire for his readers. They lived in a difficult season. A few decades after Jesus lived on earth Matthew sat down to write what he’d experienced as a disciple. By this time the church had grown, and they faced hardship. Believers were ostracized, pushed to the edges of society, and persecuted. Soon, they would face martyrdom on a wider scale, being thrown before beasts in coliseums.

Matthew recalled the days he spent trudging across the countryside with Jesus, hearing his parables, watching his miracles, and seeing Jesus in his resurrected majesty. In light of his reader’s struggles, Matthew painted for them this portrait of Jesus’ glory. Jesus is eternal, he’s majestic, he’s bigger. Jesus is king.

The Gospel of Matthew divides easily into four segments:

· The King (1:1 – 4:16). Matthew begins with a genealogy that demonstrates that Jesus is the Messiah descended from David and Abraham. Then, in chapter 2, he contrasts Jesus with Herod, a self-centered, power-hungry, maniacal king who stands as the complete opposite of Jesus.

· The Kingdom (4:17 – 16:20). Matthew 4:17 transitions to the second segment of the Gospel, “From that time on Jesus began to preach, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The next twelve chapters describe the kingdom over which Jesus reigns. These chapters include The Sermon on the Mount (chpts. 5-7), which describes what it looks like to live in his kingdom, then following chapters give pictures of Jesus healing, teaching, calming a storm, casting out demons, and forgiving. In chapter 13, Jesus gives a series of parables that begin with the phrase “The kingdom of heaven is like…”

· The Crown (16:21-28:15). Matthew 16:21 transitions to the third segment of the Gospel, “From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things…and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” The King receives his crown—a crown of thorns (27:29). The cross and the empty tomb are the epitome of God’s glory, where his grace, holiness, and sovereignty reach their apex.

· The Commission (28:16-20). In the final verses of the Gospel, King Jesus commissions his disciples to tell his story. This commission gives our lives eternal purpose. We don’t have to wonder why we get up in the morning, we have a reason—to extend Jesus’ truth and love to the ends of the earth.

You might be living in the midst of the storm. Don’t ignore the storm—you need to talk about it, to be in community, and to find help and resources. But at some point, in addition to these things, can I encourage you to look up? Look above the storm. Look to the eternal. Like Matthew bid his readers, see the king, kingdom, crown, and commission.

Fanny Crosby wrote many of the hymns that churches have sung for decades, such as “To God be the Glory” and “Near the Cross.” Her lyrics often include images of watching, seeing Jesus, and envisioning glory, such as these words from “Blessed Assurance,” “Perfect submission, all is at rest, I in my Savior am happy and blest, watching and waiting, looking above, filled with his goodness, lost in his love.”

These are fascinating images when you realize Fanny Crosby was blind.

When Crosby reached old age, a friend said, “If you’d been born today, with the medical technology available, they could have restored your sight.”

Instead of being bitter, she responded, “I don’t know that I would change anything. Do you know the first thing I’ll ever see is the face of Jesus?”

It seems to me that she spent her life on earth seeing Jesus, as well. She faced storms, but she learned to look above the clouds. I pray that you will, too.

Copied with permission from Daniel Overdorf, President Johnson University