The Stones Will Cry Out

Author: Rachelle Rieke
Have you ever watched snow melt? . . . just squatted down next to a dirty patch under a clean and clear winter sun, hung with the suggestion of spring, and watched the snow melt? The tiny crystals, as they transform into liquid water, each hang suspended over the lacey lattice that forms as they fall. Transformed into prismatic pearls, each one holds its own rainbow – thousands of rainbow pearls – holding the light and refracting it in an exultation of the promise of God.
I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Genesis 9:13
The world is pregnant with the promise and the joy of God. Subtly, his bow governs the dawn and the dusk, our rising and our laying down, enveloped in the colorful arms of his promise. I realized this recently on a flight out of Rochester as I looked out the window of the plane. The early morning flight rose with the dawn. As I gazed out over clouds, the rainbow fruit of the morning rose up to transform the aerial horizon. Deep red transmuted into bright orange and yellow, the faintest band of green perceptible, to blue pushing away the violet of the night.
A rainbow.
And a moment of recognition-revelation: surely Lord, your promise encircles my entire day, and the floodwaters of the trials of this life will not overtake me.
For the following week, I saw rainbows in the sky, rainbows splashed on the wall as morning light refracted through glass panels over the kitchen sink, a song playing titled, “rainbows.” On the flight home, I saw the same spectrum of colors banding the sky with the sinking of the sun.
Two days later at church, in prelude for sharing in communion, Pastor Cecil shared an unlikely verse: Genesis 9:13. I lost it. Tears full of the promise of God. Rainbow tears.
For all that is wrong in this world, it is yet permeated more deeply with all that is right and with praise. When the Pharisees attempted to silence the people giving glory to God, Jesus said, Listen to me. If my followers were silenced, the very stones would break forth with praises! (John 19:40)
A passerby may see only a brown, dirty pile of snow. But suspended above the stains, a thousand orbs of promise-praise, like tiny bells, are silently singing.