Clock Tower Vision

Stephen and I just spent a lovely weekend exploring Ithaca, and although there were many great moments during the trip, the highlight for me was by far our visit to the McGraw Clock Tower at Cornell for a chimes concert. 

Music gets to me. Music makes me cry. And to be so close to the bells that you could feel them inside you, to overlook the city at sunset - it was spiritual, it was soulful, it was symbolic. It was so meaningful that it is hard to find the right words, but I must at least try. 

Imagine with me that your life has recently felt like you were trapped in a maze of crowded buildings. You know where you want to end up, but you can't actually see it, and you have no idea how to get there. You're pretty sure you've taken a few wrong turns, and you've definitely ended up on several dead-end alleys. 

Then, suddenly, you find yourself on top of a clock tower, while the chimes play Be Thou My Vision. You can look out on top of all those buildings which previously blocked your view, and see exactly what streets you need to travel, and even why you had to travel down some pretty sketchy roads to get where you are. As the sun sets, you know with certainty that the Lord is your vision, that He is working, and that sometime, you will see His work. 

And yet, it wasn't suddenly, in either the imaginary life or the real world. I couldn't sit on the streets and cry ugly tears and bemoan my lot in life; I had to go to the tower. And even once at the tower, even once filled with the hope and peace of knowing that God's vision was coming, I still had to climb the stairs - all 160 of them, through a tiny, claustrophobic building with only small slit windows to see outside. The climbing was hard - heart pounding. But it was so worth it. 

I can't even describe the breath-taking beauty of the moment. I already have this great urge, this wild desire to run back up the tower, to be among the bells and the birds. While I was up there, I just knew - I could see. God is at work and I can trust His guiding and often ugly streets lead to beautiful places.

But, you know, you can't build your home on top of a clock tower. We live down on the ground, among the confusion and concrete and chaos. Even as I felt the music moving through me, I knew that in a few short moments I would have to climb down, down to the crowded streets. It saddened me and made me wish I could stay up there forever. 

But clock tower chimes don't last forever. The music ends, the sun sets, and the night wind comes biting in. It is better to live in a warm, grounded home, after all. The vision doesn't have to end there, though. I can take the clarity and peace I found up high back into the maze of streets, hoping and knowing that someday there will be another clock tower, and that God will be my vision until then.