In my day-to-day, life can seem like a fog that keeps my view of heavenly Father, myself, and others in an obscure blur.  Then, when I least expect it, God’s love comes bursting through the misty numbness lighting up my senses, and illuminating my shadowy heart. 

Around this time last year, the Holy Spirit directed a small band of warrior sisters and brothers to petition heaven for reconciliation of ethnic groups in our region by performing a prophetic act.  Our part of the Bible belt has been riddled with racism of one kind or another for generations.  A prophetic act is something you do in the physical that represents something in the spirit.  Scripture is full of such acts, especially in the major prophets, like Ezekiel. 

The details of what was done, I will share another time, though what occurred felt like it had been read from the pages of an adventure novel.  My story today is about the kisses I got three weeks prior. 

In January of 2016, I had been told by a fellow prayer warrior this prophetic act needed to take place on Bald Rock in SC.  I had never been there, so my husband drove us there to check it out one dreary morning.  Honestly, that day I felt sick… Sick to my stomach, sick to my heart.  The low hanging grey clouds reflected my soul that day.  I fought panicky, looming thoughts of sudden disaster, as we drove across town, and the mountains came into view.  My arch enemy was fighting me hard, but I did not yet know why.

As I stared at the mountains before me, covered in clouds pregnant with rain, I said a silent prayer, “If this is your will and this is the place, please let me see the sunshine while we are there.”

We wound up and around the snake-like road ’til we reached our destination.  The name, Bald Rock, fit this place perfectly, a stark bald sheer rock face on the side of the mountain covered in multi-colored graffiti.  This certainly would not be my choice for the Lord to meet with us to perform this act of reconciliation.  But as He so often reminds me, He chooses the humblest places to show His glory.

My family meandered down the face of the rock, as I casually shuffled my feet at the top.  A beautiful view of the Upstate surrounded us, yet the rain clouds hung lower, and my faith dropped along with them.  Surely this was not the place He had chosen.  Perhaps we had missed Him altogether.

Right as my impatience had almost overcome me, and I began to gather my family to go, I heard a faint singing.  I strained to hear the tune.  The music wafted upon the wind to my ears… the sound of a father gently singing to his daughter several yards below me.  Strumming his guitar, he sang the song my grandfather used to sing to me many years long gone,  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  You make me happy when skies are grey.  You’ll never know dear how much I love you.  Please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

As the sweet lyrics reached my ears, the sunshine began to break through the clouds creating a golden sheen on the mountain in front of us.  I began to cry.  Not only had the God of the universe heard my simple whisper in the car on the way there, but He had answered it in such a beautiful, sweet kiss to my heart. 

As if that was not enough, right after beginning our return home in our van, the music on the radio played, “Come to the mountain.  Come to the mountain of the Lord.”  My heart swelled within my chest, as my emotions were no longer able to be contained.

Sometimes, I wonder how I can forget the intimate love of my heavenly Father, but in the moments of the day, I sometimes get lost in the fog.  May the love of our Father break though your grey clouded days, and may His light shine bright!  “You are His sunshine…”