Last week David and I were in North Florida working on Mom’s new retirement home. We spent two busy, busy days running here and there, trying to finish tile floors and drawer pulls and televisions and curtain measurements: you get the idea of our days. One of our projects was buying Mom a new TV to fit in her new entertainment center. Since we are night owls and not so much early birds, we took advantage of Walmart’s late hours to buy what we needed.
And so it was that we were unloading boxes of televisions and lightbulbs and groceries late at night into this empty house. It was dark, and we must have looked like reverse burglars. (Can you imagine reverse burglars? I’m going to come bless you in the middle of the night with new televisions!). On our last trip, my friend Robin called and said, “Look up! You are in the country. Look up…there’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight.”
We did.
It took my breath away. Out there with no streetlights and no homes lit from the inside, the sky took center stage. There was a swathe of white where far away galaxies lived. Planets so bright they felt like streetlights. David and I lay down on the hard cement driveway and just watched. We saw the satellites moving across the sky, we saw the stars. We didn’t see any meteors, but who cared?
It was all so…big. And it reminded me Who really made all of this.
For I have every confidence that nothing — not death, life, heavenly messengers, dark spirits, the present, the future, spiritual powers, height, depth, nor any created thing — can disconnect us from the love of God that came to us in Jesus, our Lord and Liberating King.
– Romans 8:28,29 (The Voice translation)
I read that this morning and thought about that starry sky, the one that is still there even when the streetlights of life obscure the light. In the same way, God is still here working in the middle of our cluttered and messy lives, whether we stop and lie down on the hard cement to watch him at work or not. The commentary on the bit of scripture above says this:
In all of Paul’s letters, there is no more triumphant note than in this declaration. He has reached the climax of what it means to live empowered by God’s Spirit. We are champions, one and all. We will taste victory and sweet success made possible by His love and gifts to us. We may fear the harsh judgment of the majority. We may bristle under the scowls of others. We may even be unsettled by thoughts of death, persecution, and dark spiritual powers. But Paul celebrates the absolute assurance that no one and nothing can come between us and the love of God.
I’m resolving this week to remember what’s flying and swirling above my head, even when I can’t see the stars because of the cloudy skies. I’m resolving to remember that I am not my own. I’m bought with a price, and I am treasured more than any of those stars. And I’m going to remember that streetlights are a poor substitute for starry skies.
