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Jesus
On A Cloud
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When I was about eight years old, I spent the night
with my cousin in a nearby community during my school’s spring break. My
cousin and I stayed up very late on the last night, playing with her toys
and games. Very early the next morning, I awoke for no apparent reason.
The room was quiet and filled with darkness from the night, and the only
source of light was from the moon radiating soft rays. I crawled to the
end of the bed and peered out of the window. The backyard was quiet. The
animals slept soundly. Everything was serene and peaceful, which I found
comforting. I sat there for a while admiring
the quietness of the night. But before long I could see the day breaking
far off to the east. With the first hint of shallow sunlight, I heard the
chirps of birds and saw the movement of squirrels as they set out to do
their morning routines, gathering straw for nests and worms and nuts for
breakfast. Never before had I noticed them in this way. They seemed animated
in their behavior; every activity seemed deliberate and filled with joy.
I too was filled with joy.After awhile, I traced the light
beam with my eyes from earth to sky, fully expecting to find the morning
sun overhead. But the light came from a cloud instead. On the cloud, there
stood a man dressed in a long white, flowing robe tied off with a twisted
rope belt and tassels. He had long, wavy, golden hair that seemed to bounce
with the air. I could see his fingers and his toes in amazing detail. He
was three dimensional, yet he was opaque, such as a sheer curtain. His entire
body was outlined in a silvery light white; even his toes, fingers, and
facial features. This cloud and another one that partially hid the first
stood still, while the other clouds rolled on through the sky.The man stood there on that cloud
with his right arm at his side and his left arm outstretched toward the
earth. His hand was extended toward something down below, and in that direction,
a beautiful silvery white light would radiate from his body towards the
earth. He stood there, looking expressively, sometimes concerned, pleased
or sad for a while. Then he would shift his body somewhat and extend his
left arm and hand in a different direction. Again, the light would radiate
from him toward the earth. He repeated this process many times.I sat there totally entranced
in what I was seeing. I believe that children see things differently than
adults. They take things at face value more and don’t question what they
see. I was sure I was looking in the face of Jesus. He wore the clothes
of the Jesus of my Bible stories, and he certainly looked like the man from
the Jesus paintings in my Grandmother’s house. After a while, he turned to the
right and went down on bended knees. He raised his arms and placed the palms
of his hands together, each finger separated by the silvery white outline.
I was now viewing his profile and could see his mouth moving as he spoke
to the heavens. He continued like this for several minutes. Then he raised
himself and turned to the other direction. Now I was seeing his other profile.
Again, he went down on bended knee and prayed.The cloud which had blocked part
of the view then moved away, and behind it I was able to see a huge three-dimensional
book that was opaque and traced in the same silvery white light as Jesus.
This book sat upright and was nearly as tall as Jesus on the cloud. With
his left hand, Jesus reached out, took a page, and turned it. Then he placed
his left hand palm down on the book. He turned his head to the right and
extended his right arm down toward the earth. Then the light again radiated
from his body toward the earth. After looking upon the earth with emotion
for a few minutes, he would move his hand someplace else on the book. He
did not go through the book from top to bottom and left to right but would
place his hand randomly throughout the book. He continued this process of
hand placing and earth watching for a long time, and several times he would
again turn yet another page.Soon I began to hear my aunt stir
in the kitchen—pots and pans rattling and the sound of bacon frying.
Before long, my cousin and I were called for breakfast. I got up from my
bed post, not saying a word to anyone about what I had witnessed. Quickly
I ate my food so that I could return to watch Jesus on the cloud. When I
returned, however, he, the book, and the cloud were gone.For many years, I chose to not
tell anyone about my experience—not for fear of ridicule or disbelief
from others, but simply because it was given to me alone. I knew that one
day I would talk about it, but the vision was meant for me only at that
time. Perhaps, I now believe that God wanted me to wait till I was much
older to tell this story so it would be taken more seriously by others.
Countless times throughout the years I've wondered why God allowed me to
see such a wonderful vision. And now I know that he gave me something that
he wanted me to share with others, and he wants me to know that he is undeniably
real. How can I ever doubt God’s existence when I've seen the face of heaven
firsthand? Jesus is certainly watching over us and praying in our behalf
and sending his light to shine upon us. Perhaps he's not always on a cloud,
but him being there that morning so long ago made a lovely vision and a
sweet amazing memory for a wide-eyed little girl.  Angela Cloyd |
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Copyright
© 1992-2001 by Betty J. Eadie |
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