The sermon of the stars


Last Autumn I spent a weekend in a secluded hut on the shores of a lake.

I woke up and sighed. It was 3am and silent. Waking up at random hours was a normal part of being six months pregnant.

I wrapped a soft blanket around myself and padded onto the veranda, overhanging the water. The night was still and clear. What I saw was breathtaking.

The sky was pierced with countless shimmering stars. Every single one was reflected perfectly in the lake.

The stars seemed thousands of miles above me, and thousands of miles below me. I felt very small in the middle of such vast beauty.

What is mankind?

I remembered David’s words:

‘When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?’ Psalm 8:3-4

I curled up on the floor and stared in awe.

I marvelled at how big and wonderful God is to have made all this. And yet he cared for me - and my son, who he was carefully knitting together in my womb (Psalm 139:13).

Who was I in the face of such power? 

Who am I?

I remembered being told that we’re like the moon. By itself it’s just a lump of rock, one of trillions in space. But because of its relationship with the sun, it shines brightly for everyone to see.

We’re also nothing by ourselves. We’re designed to shine as we reflect the light of the Son (2 Corinthians 3:18). The longer we reflect Jesus, the more we become like him.

God says that as we become like him, we shine like stars in this dark world (Philippians 2:15).

What an amazing privilege for someone as small as me.