With Eagles’ Wings

The sky darkens and the breeze gathers strength as it tugs at the leaves and branches. Amid the ripples on the pond etched circles appear where the first drops of rain have fallen, soon to be joined by many others when the tempest breaks. Grasses bend low and treetops sway as rivulets of water hurry to the lowlands, while the birds and animals seek refuge under dripping bows. All nature is driven before the storm and pressed low by its fury. All, but one. Mounting high above the lowering clouds and stormy winds flies the eagle. In the golden light of the sun it soars, triumphant.

I stood and watched the rippling grasses, letting the cool wind brush my face and whip at my jacket, feeling the touch of the Creator in the hand of His creation. Though the May afternoon was a brisk one with promise of coming rain, the trials of the day had driven me to seek a refuge in my God. The storm had broken upon me and I needed a shelter… or was it an escape?

Lifting my head I took in the beauty of the gray skies and billowing clouds. Some were dark with rain, but others were edged in silver. Here and there a bright patch of blue had turned all bordering clouds fleecy white: a promise of a bit of golden sunshine somewhere. Swallows dipped and soared above the gray-violet water, seemingly oblivious of the coming shower. When the rain came, turning the pond into dented glass, they would seek shelter—or perhaps fly up through that opening into the blue heavens.

I looked at the dimmed shape of the sun above the waving treetops. It somehow reflected the dull ache in my heart. The topsy-turvy feelings, the hurts, the burdens, the cares were all bound up in those clouded skies. Somewhere it must be shining brightly. Just beyond those dismal gray thunderclouds there was the shimmering golden sunlight. Then I knew that the swallow’s choice was mine, too.

Would I seek shelter in self-pity, complaints, and sorrows? I could spill it all out to whoever cared to listen and somehow find some solace in human comfort, under the dripping branches. I could. But what was I standing for anyway? Huddling down when a little gale overwhelmed me didn’t demonstrate a victorious life. Through Jesus I could soar; with eagle’s wings I could reach that promised rest. Yes, heavenly sunlight was mine once I reached up to claim it.

“In the light of God, all, all is bright,” we sing. ’Tis true, but first we have to look up. The clouds have brightness not seen by many, for it is on the top. Mounting up with eagles’ wings takes an effort—a seeking of more than the sheltering branches, a defying of the dark clouds about you, a desiring of Heavenly light.

When viewed from the light-crested clouds, the storm indeed shrinks down to proportion. Who am I to complain, after all? Is not my God Lord of the tempest, does He not know what is best? Surely we are called to touch earth and feel its woes and sorrows, but the fury of the storm should always summon us heavenward.

It is when we receive the heavenly vision that we can say with Paul, “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; the things which are not seen are eternal.”* (2 Corinthians 4:17,18)

This vision is for all that will seek it. It is the way of victory and conquering in this life: the way our Savior tread. Therefore let us now mount up with eagle’s wings and touch the throne of God.

“I bare you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto myself.”* (Exodus 19:4)