Heading down to the horse barn this morning, I noticed a long, tapered cloud off to the east. The southern end of its lower portion glowed orange and red, burnished by the light of the yet unseen sun. “I’m gonna keep an eye on that,” I promised myself, “That should be spectacular in a few more minutes.”

Randa and I fed the horse and started mucking the paddock. The chores went well, or at least as well as chores go when the wind chill is this close to zero! That spectacular sunrise thing, though, that was another matter.

That long, tapered cloud had moved north instead of east. Zero clouds to reflect the sun’s rising glory.

In a cloudless sky, folks from California to Oregon see the same sunset. Ditto for the sunrise from Georgia to Maine. With no clouds, it’s pretty much the same, assuming no fog or smog.

But with clouds that all changes. Move a few miles north or south and it’s a different scene. The lower and closer the clouds, the more dramatic the change. Maybe better, maybe worse, maybe equally lovely. But different.

And of course, we could be standing shoulder to shoulder and still see different things, even when looking at what seems—and scenes—the same. One person sees the glory of charging stallions, fiery breath curling at the platinum-flared edges. Another sees an angry shark, menacing and deadly. Still another sees angels ringed around the saints. And some, maybe most, see beauty that passes by unnoticed by others too focused on the tasks at end to glance up at a glorious sky as day fades into dusk.

So, yes, perspective matters. As does perception.

But the glory of the lower heavens is often shaped by the closeness of the clouds. Unlike the one that waits beyond the shrouds of this world’s seeing. That glory is fixed by the hands of God and will fill with awe and magnificent joy all who view it.