The nature of their burning
The night sky is so vast, so dark and deep. Staring at it never fails to remind me of how small I am and how temporary my time on this earth really is. From my vantage point I see those stars as tiny, but the reality is that they’re huge and ancient.
Scientists say the stars are billions of years old. Folks who believe in the literal information of the scriptures say they aren’t much more than six thousand years old. I like to understand why both sides believe as they do, but I don’t argue about such things. I believe God made them but I don’t know how or when. I just don’t have a dog in that race.
I am happy to know that the stars are there and that they’re beautiful.
And that they burn.
I love the constancy of their burning. They don’t wake up one evening and say “oh, I’m tired of burning burning burning and I think I’ll take a night off.” They were made to twirl through space and burn, and that is what they do. If you wonder what the glory of God looks like in outer space, just check out the stars.
Sometimes, however, as I’m watching the subtle twinkle and flicker of the diamonds of the air, my view gets interrupted by a shooting trail of light across the sky. We call them falling stars but they aren’t actually stars at all. They’re meteors and space junk burning up in our atmosphere.
They burn brilliantly and furiously for a few seconds…and then they’re gone.
I love the fury of their burning. I love that they aren’t concerned that they only have a brief time to display their fire. They just go for it, and then they burn out bright.
It’s good to be a star.
It’s also good to be a meteor.
I want to be a star in the face of eternity, but a meteor in terms of my time on this earth.
I want to be consistent and constant, a predictable source of His light and energy. But when it becomes obvious that I was only a blip on the timeline of history, I want it to be evident that I streaked across the sky with everything that I had, burning with passion and fury and brilliance, unwilling to dim or be a dying ember.
Either way, let it be known that the sky can never be completely dark as long as I’m there.