There’s something mystical and enormous about a large, open sky. Growing up around mountains, I’ve come to appreciate open skies, the way they speak of God, his vastness, his otherness. That’s probably why I love David Crowder’s song of the same. I used to crank “Praise Him Under Open Skies” when I went running in France, even though the skies were obscured by foothills and the Alps.
Now under the wide expanse of sky that defines my little corner of Texas, I’m praising Him still. Thankful. Amazed. The One who fashioned it all, who flung stars hither and yon in a creation dance, loves me. He loves me. I may feel small under the canopy of sky, but I am deeply and wonderfully loved by the Creator.