I Can't See the Volcano, But I Know It's There

The first time my wife and I were in Costa Rica, we experienced the wonder that is Arenal. Staying at an inn approximately two miles from this active volcano, we spent an evening with friends watching lava slither down its side while cannon-like echoes of the flaming boulders filled the night-time air. It was surreal, and it was also quite fortunate. Site of the volcano is usually blocked by cloud cover, especially at night, providing us a rare glimpse of Arenal's true majesty.

When we returned a few years later and stayed at the same bed and breakfast, we were not nearly as lucky. Cursed with cloud cover, we could only attempt to explain to the friends who were with us on this trip what we knew to be true. Our story seemed but a fairy tale. But we knew what we saw. We knew the truth of Arenal, despite the clouds.

I was reminded of this story while reading my children a short piece out of Sally Lloyd-Jones' masterful book, Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing. The book is a collection of short devotional-type reflections on faith and joy and God aimed to be accessible to children. I must admit, they often hit home with me as well. One of the pieces is entitled "Clouds and Mountains and Stars." In it Lloyd-Jones describes how when it's cloudy, you can't see stars. Sometimes you can't even see something as big as a mountain, but that doesn't mean that it ceases to be there. She then drives home her point: "Feelings can be like clouds - they blow in and hide things from us. . . Our feelings come and go. But God stays the same. His promises still are shining."

Feelings don't change facts. What an appropriate message in the midst of a basketball season. Sports are and should be a deeply emotional affair. But that emotion shouldn't hide the truth. In one of the most frustrating evenings of the season, I forgot a lot of truths. I forgot that I had vowed not to run my mouth towards officials, since that's not my job as an assistant. I forgot that bad officiating doesn't make someone any less of a person, or any less of an immortal and immensely important being (as C.S. Lewis would say). I forgot that several hundred eyes were on me, and the words I want them to associate with me include steadfast Christian character. I forgot in my anger that later that night I would go home and still have a great family, a great home, and a great job. Obviously it was a cloudy, cloudy night.

We should feel. We should feel intensely and deeply and be affected by those feelings. Feelings can and should drive us towards and away from all kinds of deeds. Enthusiasm and despair instruct. But they do not change the deep, rock-solid truths in our lives. That's why we need so desperately to remind ourselves of the truth and embed it into our minds when the sun is out. Then anger towards a spouse won't change the truth of their love. Frustration with children won't change the truth of their blessings. The infuriating actions of your boss won't change the truth of your paycheck and the good you do in your work. And the thrill of immediate pleasure won't change the long-term ramifications of your choices.

Gaze upon the volcano. Sit around a table and talk about it. Stand in awe. Share it. Stare some more. The next time you're there you might not be able to see it. But you'll know it's there. And you'll be glad.