The Pillar of Cloud

When we first arrived in Provo many years ago, I heard about climbing the foothills of the Rocky Mountains to the 'Y' on the slopes hundreds of feet above the valley floor. I had been told that many people climb up to it, even small children. I decided that I should do that. Being an engineer and thinking in straight lines I drove directly from our apartment on Seventh North, Provo toward the Y, parking when I reached the foot of the mountain and started climbing straight up. I was surprised after some climbing to realise that there was a bench higher up which I could easily have driven up to and where I could have parked, saving myself the first third of the climb. Nevertheless I climbed on, going straight up the spur of the mountain toward the Y. I arrived at the foot of the Y exhausted and panting, and totally unwilling to believe that many adults could make that climb, let alone small children, but there they were, mothers and children both, playing on the rocks of the Y. After catching my breath I looked down the path I had climbed and saw, to my chagrin, the zig-zag, well-laid-out footpath to the south of the rugged spur that I had climbed--Indeed any child could climb that path. In my eagerness and directness I had not paid proper attention to the correct starting place or route.

I thought I had learned a valuable lesson about doing my preparation, however I had missed the more important half of the lesson.

Recently in Edinburgh, I left our flat early one morning and climbed the hill in Holyrood Park up to Arthur's Seat. A cold wind was blowing and it was not raining, but it had been. Having learned half the lesson all those years ago in Provo, I did not climb straight up a spur, but I chose the best path that I could see. It was a well-marked trail, starting off smoothly paved and signposted. After a while it branched onto a less developed, but still very clear path heading for the peak. On this part of the path I could choose between walking in glutinous mud through ice-covered puddles, or on firm but ice-slippery rocks. The last fifty yards or so to the pinnacle was craggy rock and I climbed with my hands and feet up to the concrete marker at the peak.

After catching my breath and enjoying the view of Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh and the far hoizons I again looked down at the paths I had followed.--and had a déjà vu moment. Although I had followed marked paths, there were multiple other options avoiding both mud and rocks. There were even better ways up to the craggy peak that did not require both hands and feet. It was then I had the insight I should have had years and years ago.

This is what Heavenly Father sees.

He stands at the peak and sees all the paths we could take to return to Him. He can see the foolish paths we go on, which we firmly believe are better and easier from our limited viewpoint, and He can see us careering along what we think is an open road--rushing towards unseen cliffs and crags.

And He gives us caring commandments through prophecy and prayer, and if we listen and follow through obedience and ordinances we come by the best way, up and home to Him. Perhaps there are other lessons to learn but I feel I have now learned the literal lesson, twice, and the abstract spiritual one too. Learning is always a positive outcome. I had a very pleasant stroll down the mountain on firm grassy paths and greeted the swans in St. Margaret's Loch on my way home to breakfast.

That's a great introduction to another story, or perhaps two

John Henry Newman was an Anglican priest in the nineteenth century. As a young man traveling back to England from Italy he became ill and then was unable to travel for three weeks. He was frustrated and depressed and disappointed and unable to do what he saw as his proper work in England. He did get passage on an orange boat, which was becalmed in the Mediterranean for a week, teaching him more unasked-for lessons about patience and endurance, and finally lessons about faith and trust, and following where the Lord leads. In that still place he wrote a poem called The Pillar of Cloud. It has three verses; a fourth was added later by Edward H Bickersteth Jr, Bishop of Exeter.

I have changed the spacing of the words to give a more natural flow to the words. You will still immediately recognize the poem as you read it, as it has been turned into a popular hymn, sung to many tunes by many choirs, including our beloved Tabernacle choir.

The Pillar of Cloud

Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home,

Lead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet;

I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou shouldst lead me on;

I loved to choose and see my path; but now

Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will.

Remember not past years!

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on.

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone,

And with the morn those angel faces smile,

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

Meantime, along the narrow rugged path, Thyself hast trod,

Lead, Saviour, lead me home in childlike faith,

Home to my God.

To rest forever after earthly strife

In the calm light of everlasting life.

The poem echoes again the theme of trusting the Lord to lead us in the right paths.

If you want to hear the Tabernacle Choir sing the Mack Wilberg arrangement, here's a link

Lead, Kindly Light - Mormon Tabernacle Choir

Now I mentioned that the poem is called "A Pillar of Cloud", which of course, is from Exodus 13:21,22

21 And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light; to go by day and night:

22 He took not away the pillar of the cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night, from before the people.

And that in turn brings us to the Provo Temple, which was designed to remind us of that scripture

The white panels with their looping vertical designs around the temple represent the pillar of cloud by day and the golden light on the spire represents the pillar of fire by night.

And thus we arrive back at the idea of the high and holy places where God watches out for us and invites us to follow his easy paths to climb up to Him.