Throughout my adult life, I’ve used “the planets aligned” to reference serendipitous moments when conditions were perfect to experience beauty, wonder, or adventure. But tonight, that phrase wasn’t figurative.
I joined my sister and her boys on a short hike to an open field, where we were able to see planets aligned—some with our bare eyes and a few more with an app. We marveled at the scale of space and at the science non-fiction of the technology in my pocket.
No matter what you think about the ancient Hebrew poetry describing the origin of our planet, I hope you can appreciate the counterintuitive humility described by whoever wrote that original text. Most English translations speak about the immeasurable expanse of the universe with just five words: “He also made the stars.”
The nonchalance of that statement has made it one of my favorite lines of the scripture that guides Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. It’s not that the stars were an afterthought. It’s that they were easy for God to make—the result of a few words and maybe a shoulder shrug.
When I think of the big challenges in my heart, the hard conversations I typically avoid, and the difficulty of hoping in an America where the church is championing the exact opposite of the Sermon on the Mount—another day of juggling all of this can feel daunting. Maybe even intractable. On these nights when my soul feels overwhelmed, it’s good for me to go outside, to get lost in the stars, and to remember that the infinite power inherent in the cosmos was a P.S. in the creation poem.
And it’s healthy for me to take all of that in with the next generation. It’s good to be reminded of the stakes of my faithfulness and perseverance when excuses and acceptance are always waiting at frequent off-ramps.
For two hours on a Tuesday night, I had stars in my eyes. And in my soul.
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