The Lesson in the Stars

You don’t have to be an astronomy buff to love the stars. Most people, when they take the time to look at the night sky, are grabbed by the beauty and the scale. We now know there are billions of stars in each of billions of galaxies. Some, though, are put off by that. Why so much? What’s the purpose of all that empty space? If there is no other life in the universe — or even if there is — why do we need so many stars?

Physics actually has an answer for that (short version: the universe needs a minimum mass for some stuff to work). The scriptures also have an answer for it:

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
   the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
   and the son of man that you care for him? (Psalm 8:3-4)

All of that beauty and empty space makes us feel small. The more we learn about the scale of it all, the more it works. Not only am I a speck on the earth, not only is the sun 100 times the size of the earth, but there are stars that make the sun look like a speck. All of these stars dance around each other like a ballet, giving us the graceful patterns we see in the night sky.

When we consider the power and wisdom required to make something like that, we’re forced to compare ourselves to it. And that makes us feel humble. In physics the “three-body problem”, where one tries to calculate the motion of three bodies that move around each other, is considered a very complex problem. Three. Bodies. Yet here we are in a galaxy of a billion stars, whose motions all seem to be carefully mapped out. What kind of mind can do that? And why does that mind then turn to us?

One of the songs made from this Psalm puts it nicely:

With a word You spoke the heavens into place,
Scattered stars and gave the earth it's frame
What is man that You should touch him with Your grace?
And who am I, O Lord, that You should know my name?¹

The power of God displayed in his heavens should amaze us and make us feel insignificant. And we are. But God still cares for us, not only knowing our names but numbering the very hairs of our heads. How could such a thing be? Why would the God who manages the universe be concerned with something as insignificant as me?

And when we reach that point, all of that beauty and empty space makes us feel grateful. Because that God not only says he cares about me, he showed it by becoming flesh to pay the price for my sins.

So look up at night. Feel small. Feel insignificant. Then worship the God who loves you anyway.


1 “Only You” by Craig Bidondo, Rob Bryceson, Tim Jones, Joel Weldon Hendrickson

Image via Unsplash