Jesus. the stars. and me.

“Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.” –Isaiah 40:26

I went for a late walk last night because I just couldn’t fall asleep. It was warm and I was restless. My mind kept moving to and fro – like a ball in a tennis match. Back and forth. Back and forth. So I slipped on my sandals, a light sweater and out I went. I walked to a nearby park and laid myself down on a picnic bench and stared up at the sky for quite a while.

Sometimes all I have to do is sit still beneath the expanse of a night sky to remember that God is much bigger than my circumstances. He is larger than what I feel. His character stays the same. Even when my situation and the steadiness of my heart do not.

There are many times when nothing steadies me more than nestling myself in to my rightful place in creation – lying down, sprawled out, vulnerable, and open to the grandeur of the universe that my God set in place; remembering that he’s still in control, he’s still enthroned, and I am at the mercy of his good and perfect direction; remembering that when I feel constricted and “held down” by him, it’s because he isn’t finished doing what he’s doing yet; remembering that I am only a microscopic (though significant) piece of this majestic Kingdom; remembering that there’s a lot more to this world than the thoughts running around in my head that persuade me to focus on self instead of him; remembering that he set every star in place; remembering that the sun will rise tomorrow; remembering that – even though I have all Power and Strength in him – I am still just me.

And I should probably be more tender with myself.

There is something about a starry sky (even in urban cities) that brings me back home. Back home to the Truth that this isn’t all there is. Back home to the Truth that he is supreme. Back home to the Truth that he always has the last word – even when I feel like someone else did. Back home to the Truth that he knows every star by name. Back home to the Truth of his immeasurable love and boundless sovereignty; and back home to the Truth of my finiteness and desperate need for him

Each

And

Every

Day.

“The heavens are yours, and yours also the earth; you founded the world and all that is in it.” – Psalm 89:11

I imagined myself, lying there, as the only one on earth. Just me, just him, and the stars canvassed out before me like some brilliant Van Gogh painting. That thick acrylic painting swirled about with passionate creativity that burns from within. I imagined his arms, as wide as the heavens, stretching outward to envelop me. To scoop me up from the wooden bench I laid upon.

I watched the stars glisten and burn. I watched the stars diligently fulfill their roles amidst God’s creation – set in place just where he put them. I closed my eyes and listened to the silent humming of the skies. It doesn’t use words like we humans do, but its existence brings him praise. It brings him Glory.

And I was reminded of Psalm 19:

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they reveal knowledge.

They have no speech, they use no words;

no sound is heard from them.

Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.

It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,

like a champion rejoicing to run his course.

It rises at one end of the heavens

and makes its circuit to the other;

nothing is deprived of its warmth.

And as I repeated the psalm of David in my head, I began to doze off. The bark of a neighborhood dog awakened me in a startle and I realized it was time to walk home. I heard him whisper to me “Take heart, I have overcome the world.” He knew I needed to hear that. My spirit knows it.  Even when my feelings do not.  He has overcome.  And the starry skies worship his name. The revolving sun broadcasts his Glory.

And I, humbled by the fact that he created all this splendor and me, walk home half asleep, with my perspective and position now in line with what it ought to be. He is God. And I am not.

Because sometimes in my wanting to figure it out, make sense of it, plan it out, think ahead, and reciting the whole, “How am I almost 30 and only here”… this tennis match of thoughts in my mind sends my head into a spin and with the dizziness, I forget (temporarily) that the gaze of my eyes must remain, without wavering, on the one who never wavers; on the One who created the starry skies that upon looking at them, my groaning spirit longs to uncover the mysteries from which they came.

In reverent awe and admiration, I thank him for my life. For this desire to endure. For the sleepless nights. For the awakenings at 4am. For the whispers of his word in the wee hours of the morning that remind me “Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.” –Jeremiah 32:17