Walking through a Field Amazed

Hands shoved in my coat pockets, I walked down a dirt road head up.  Just looking at the stars.  Had I stood still to gaze on the fiery stones in the sky, the other students might have thought I’d never seen stars before.  The road, matted with pine straw and mud, sloped downward beneath my unsure feet.  My eyes were ever upwards trying to take in all the quiet light glittering above my head.

I love stars.

For the few weeks before that outing in the fields, my mind was filled with debates on synthetic DNA in mycoplasma, the political implications of Shakespeare’s Richard II, and the emergence of realism in French literature.  At the end of classes, I would rush back to my dorm room, try to read my Bible, and plow through the next round of homework assignments.  Characters in bas-relief, Arianism vs. Docetism, hamartia of tragic characters–all terms whirling around in my head as I studied, studied, studied.  The ceiling became my sky with all its plaster, paint, and prickly texture.  Each bump on the ceiling was a stalagmite in the cave that once was my dorm room. Now I was looking at the stars, moving only because I had to.  All the terms, assignments, upcoming quizzes receded into the dark background of my mind.  And for a short time, it was just quiet.

Looking up at those stars, I realize just how small I am.  I am one person out of six billion people.  On one planet out of eight (I’m still bitter about Pluto).  In one solar system in one galaxy out of potentially thousands.  Such a thought is overwhelming.  Out of all the planets in all the galaxies in the universe, I am standing, looking, thinking–astounded.

I cannot help my amazement every time I see a star.  For God’s incredible power and beauty hits me anew every time I see one of those   incredible burning orbs.  Because if the Bible is true, then God is bigger than everything we can see, even with the farthest reaching telescope.  Our entire world is nothing compared to God.  It would be amazing if a God so big, so awesome, so astounding, looked down on one person and have compassion on him.  But for this same God to look down on all humanity that ever was and is and know them all–this is beyond comprehension.  This is infinite love.  This same God who spoke the stars into shining knows my every thought and every fault.  Each quiet victory and each searing flaw.  And not only does He love me, but also He loves everyone.  And not only loves them, but desires that they love Him back.

My words are failing me.  I feel that I am back standing in the field, gazing at the infinite number of stars as if each one were a time God showed the world His love.  But we can’t always see it.  We crowd it out with terms and schedules, Facebook and Twitter, movies and YouTube, background noise and empty words.  I can’t always see God’s love.  But then I go out at night.  And I look up at the inky canvas God stretched over the frame of the heavens.  And I see the evidences of His love shining above my head.  Each one shining down saying, “My child, I love you.”  Amazing.

Psalm 8:3-4, 1  “When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; What is man, that Thou are mindful of him?  and the son of man, that Thou visitest him?…O Lord our Lord, how excellent is Thy name in all the earth!”

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Jennifer Gill
    Jan 02, 2012 @ 04:58:08

    I like you are disapointed about Pluto. I love to read your posts:)

    Reply

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