Art in the heart

Why do we find joy in things that serve no practical function? | Janie B. Cheaney

Illustration by Krieg Barrie

A little before 6 a.m., the horizontally striped sky in the east rolls out a news flash. Up next: spectacular sunrise. Regular early-risers will know to pause for a few minutes; it'll be worth it. If they missed the advance notice, a flaming sky slaps them in the face when passing a window. It always comes with a command: Look! LOOK!

We learned in junior high that certain atmospheric conditions produce the lighting effects, but the phenomenon itself sidesteps science and produces an answering cry in the soul. The heavens declare the glory of God at every hour, but sometimes, in these cracks between day and night, they shout. The sight is so intense it threatens to spill over to ears, nose, fingertips—what we see is a blast, a ringing chord that hangs in the air for a glorious moment and begins to fade so imperceptibly we don't notice at first.