-photo cred: national geographic–
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
Deanna brought eclipse glasses to work today. And I’m so glad she did. We all took turns sneaking off to that deck down the hall, to walk outside and look up at the sky, like kids. Glasses pressed to our eyes for fear our retinas would burn out. We watched the dark orb of the moon slowly cross in front of the sun, saw the trees and leaves and buildings dim as the light faded slowly at midday. We marveled, grown women, in the phenomenon of the eclipse.
“Do you think it’s coincidence,” the pastor said on Sunday, “that the sun is four hundred times bigger than the moon—and four hundred times as far away?” That’s the only reason we have a “zone of totality” to plot on a map. Where we can see the corona in all its brilliance. The only place it is safe to look at the sun.
No, I thought at the end of today. It is not coincidence. It is divine.
Ted Dekker wrote in his Gospel-parallels about a god who loved to play with his creatures- the people would wake up, and suddenly the world would be upside down and the people would be walking on sky and gazing up at grass. Or gravity wouldn’t work so well and they’d be floating, or something like that. It’s not hard for me to imagine God doing something like that in Eden, before sin entered the world. I wonder if today’s eclipse was a remnant of that time when all was innocent and things weren’t broken. In a world where we have to turn back inside and administer chemotherapy and look a young man in the face and know that he is dying, it is water to the soul. There was a time when these dark things didn’t exist. And there will be a time when they won’t.
And in the night, later, I sit among brothers and sisters at small group, at the place where we all meet Jesus in-the-living-room. And I am overwhelmed to tears with it all. He is here, in our midst. He gave the eclipse to the wicked and the good, so we could wonder, childlike, at the sky. He richly provides all things to us for our enjoyment. He is here, he is here. And the wonder I felt at the eclipse spills over into wondering at God himself. And we talk of the Word, of things that are true, and we pray earnestly, and then, because we had house-church at the Mills this time, they do as custom, and turn up the music. And as eternal children, we dance in the night, under a deep heaven we cannot fathom, and in the midst of one who is true. God made this day and night of joy; let’s praise him for it! A remnant of Eden, a foretaste of heaven.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. -James 1:17