Columns of Clouds and Fire

The desert sky was clear a moment ago—then, without warning, a thunderhead erupted over the horizon. A single column of clouds, a vast and towering pillar. It swelled until it seemed to pierce the heavens. Explosion of vapor and light, with violent movement.

But this is not just a storm.

The image is born from one of my sculpture pieces—transformed into moving wilderness, shaped into the geography of an ancient story. The story of pilgrims wandering on an eleven-day journey, and still wandering after forty years.

In Exodus, God’s presence took form in the wilderness: a Column of Cloud by day, a Column of Fire by night. Not mere symbols, but a constant, living presence—a guide, a protector, and a sign that they were not alone. By day, the column of clouds guided in the merciless desert sun; by night, fire lit their way through a sea of shadows. It was the axis between heaven and earth, the signpost of the promised land ahead.

As the thunderhead swells in my video, I imagine those pilgrims looking up—dust on their faces, the weight of the journey on their shoulders—and feeling the impossible reassurance that God Himself was leading the way. The storm becomes a visual psalm, the desert an open-air cathedral.

The column has never left us.

It rises in the wild moments of our lives—when the landscape feels endless and the direction unclear. It stands as a reminder that we are guided still, not by our compass, but by the One who shapes the cloud and kindles the fire.