On top of the roof on top of the state on top of the world

A car pulled up next to me at a light this evening, and the passenger immediately asked me with unusual boldness how I was doing. I said I was doing alright and looked off again; I was lost in thought before he said that. He continued, "I'm just trying to enjoy this evening; it's beautiful. I got up earlier and felt great. I'm on top of the f***ing world!" With that they sped off. That was odd, thought I. But he was right, it was a conspicuously beautiful evening.

After work I was eager to get in a second ride after doing 40 miles with the group in the morning. I've remembered each time I've ridden the past two weeks just how good it is for my mindset and mood, especially when my spirits are otherwise sinking. I decided to head up to the north end of the section of county east of Lake Wylie, the "rooftop" as I've always thought of it since seeing it on maps as a child:

Along the way there were some amazing sights:

Crepuscular Rays at sunset, near state line on highway 51. I'm so privileged to be able to get out and see such glorious beauty.

From there I ventured over to Carowinds, where I realized how close the entry road comes to the actual corner of the county. It was out in a field according to the Garmin. I had to venture out to find the actual corner.

Back wheel in one state, front wheel in another.

Wider view for context. The grass is 2-3 feet tall, and there were plenty of large grasshoppers and locusts. FUN!

View from the rooftop of South Carolina. The Intimidator looms large. The White Rose (that's what I call my bike) actually handled quite well in the tall grass. A flower at home in the fields I guess.

I was reminded by all this "rooftop" thinking of how for a time when I was in 9th grade, I would come home from school and climb a tree beside the house and hang out on top of the roof for an hour or two. I'd forgotten about that.

The sky continued to offer more sights that directed my gaze upward. The crepuscular rays I'd seen earlier were strong enough to do this:

Anti-solar rays. I don't see these too often. Actually the only times I've seen them fully visible from one side of the sky to the other have been during my mom's Walker family reunions: Missouri in 1998 and Arizona in 2000. I saw some intense anti-solar rays after our reunion last summer, but after I returned to Rock Hill, but I don't remember if they visibly connected with the crepusculars in the middle of the sky. Interesting that I just returned from another family gathering earlier this week. We gathered in Black Mountain, the site of last summer's bigger family reunion, to celebrate my mother's 70th birthday (I know, she doesn't look a day over 55). It's fascinating to me that the only time I've seen the rays connect is when I've been together with my family from the west coast. Seems rather fitting. Things like this make me have hunches that nature is more personal than we tend to think. I'm reminded of how both of my father's parents were buried on February 20, one in 1990, the other in 1998. Both days were dreary, overcast, and rainy, but on both of them, after the burial, the clouds parted to reveal a rainbow. Maybe coincidence, but I like to think there's more substance to ideas like Paul's (and God's, if we believe the scriptures are inspired) in Romans 8 than we often allow ourselves to think:

18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

One of these days I want to write more of what I've observed in Scripture on the connection between the gift of the Spirit and the redemption of all creation. That might be more of a book, though.

My cheap phone camera doesn't do them justice. They were quite well-defined.

As I stood in the middle of Carowinds Blvd lost in wonder, these words came to mind . . .

Psalm 113:3 From the rising of the sun to its setting,
the name of the Lord is to be praised!

And particularly verse 4 of

Psalm 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above [1] proclaims his handiwork.
2 Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
3 There is no speech, nor are there words,
whose voice is not heard.
4 Their voice [2] goes out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.

And Paul's mysterious quotation of this verse in Romans 10:

13 For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

14 How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? [3] And how are they to hear without someone preaching? 15 And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!” 16 But they have not all obeyed the gospel. For Isaiah says, “Lord, who has believed what he has heard from us?” 17 So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.

18 But I ask, have they not heard? Indeed they have, for

“Their voice has gone out to all the earth,
and their words to the ends of the world.”

Paul says that those who've not heard the gospel have heard it on the basis of the "words" and "voice" of the heavens and the skies? What? You're losing us, Paul. Or maybe if my speculations about the personalness of nature are correct, and nature is speaking to us, interacting with us, like these crepuscular rays and the bear my brother saw last Monday, there's something going on in nature that calls for closer attention and more sensitive ears and hearts.

All of these things I've been thinking and writing lately are leading me back to something I remembered while riding Monday in the Swannanoa Valley of North Carolina. This took me back:

Warren Wilson College. I was intrigued by that school my senior year of high school. I wanted to study environmental science or geography at a Christian college. Thinking about that made me realize how it's been a nearly lifelong quest of mine to understand the non-human parts of nature and creation in light of what I believe as a Christian. It's why I thought I wanted to pursue that course of study in college (it didn't happen; when my mom and I read the catalog from Warren Wilson, I was stoked that they required students to serve on the campus farm, but a little troubled that they didn't seem to take the exclusive claims of Christianity very seriously. I never pursued other options, I think because I was just depressed and lacking motivation.); it's why I used to annoy my friend Craig by reading Bible verses when we were looking at astronomical phenomena through his telescope; it's part of why I decided to research and write about the curse of the ground in Genesis 1-11 for my master's thesis, and lately it's been manifesting itself in this blog. I feel like I'm coming home to myself, though I've never really been gone, I'd just hidden these things in my heart for a long time.

I feel like I'm getting perspective on this, on myself, and on the world. You could say I'm close to being on top of the world. Maybe the guy next to me at the traffic light was on to something. If I can bring together his rather crude but comical comment with the word of God, here's the next part of Psalm 113, which I didn't remember when I saw the anti-solar rays tonight:

4 The Lord is high above all nations,
and his glory above the heavens!
5 Who is like the Lord our God,
who is seated on high,
6 who looks far down
on the heavens and the earth?
7 He raises the poor from the dust
and lifts the needy from the ash heap,
8 to make them sit with princes,
with the princes of his people.
9 He gives the barren woman a home,
making her the joyous mother of children.
Praise the Lord!

The God who made the rays I saw tonight sits high above them, on top of the world, but also lifts those at the bottom of the world to sit on top of it. On top of the f***ing world indeed.