The Penthouse Above the Flood

In 1985, a luxury hotel perched high on the cliffs above Armero, Colombia, advertised itself as the safest address in the valley. Its brochure boasted panoramic views and elevation that put guests "above it all." When the Nevado del Ruiz volcano began rumbling that November, the hotel owner dismissed the warnings. He had geology on his side, he said. No lahar could reach his elevation. He was untouchable.

On the night of November 13, a volcanic mudflow buried Armero and killed more than 23,000 people. The hotel, perched on its proud cliff, was swept away like a house of cards. Elevation had meant nothing against the force that descended from above.

Obadiah saw Edom making the same fatal calculation. The Edomites carved their dwellings into the rose-red cliffs of Petra, hundreds of feet above the desert floor, and whispered to themselves, "Who will bring me down to the ground?" Their geography had become their theology — they believed altitude equaled invincibility. But the Lord spoke through His prophet with devastating clarity: "Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, from there I will bring you down."

Pride always miscalculates because it measures safety by human metrics — wealth, position, reputation, strategic advantage. But no cliff is high enough, no fortress secure enough, to place a human heart beyond the reach of the Almighty. The God who set the stars in place can reach any nest built among them.