A Carol in the Sky

"Information may inform the mind, but revelation sets a heart on fire." —Matt Redman

It may not look all that special to many, but this is one of my favorite photo-capturing moments of the year. Not just because it was late June and it was warm, but because it was one of those routine moments in life when you’re focused on doing one thing (running laps) and then God taps you on the shoulder with a “Hey, check this out!”

The sky in New Hampshire may not get as “big” as it does in the wide open spaces of, say, Texas, but it can still speak at jaw-droppingly fortissimo. In so many words that evening: stop looking down at your feet, and look Up and wake up the wonder. I remember even now that the run that evening was maybe the most effortless ones of them all this year. Perspective shift—what’s on my mind to what’s on His mind—will do that. 

There wasn’t much to the caption of that photo except for #differentkindofbreathless. And that said it all...

“The celestial realms announce God’s glory;

the skies testify of His hands’ great work.

Each day pours out more of their sayings;

each night, more to hear and more to learn.

Inaudible words are their manner of speech,

and silence, their means to convey. 

Yet from here to the ends of the earth,

their voices have gone out;

the whole world can hear what they say.”

—Psalm 19:1-4, Voice

C.S. Lewis once said of Psalm 19, ”I take this to be the greatest poem in the Psalter, and one of the greatest lyrics in the world.” Coming from a giant like Lewis, that's an amazing statement. But maybe it's because they are the lyrics to the greatest song of them all: “Promise,” to the tune of “faithfulness.” Written and composed by the Creator (no need for a copyright because no one could even come close anyway).

King David begins by looking Up and worshiping, perhaps remembering a time of being out under the open skies tending his dad’s sheep…the stars, the moon, the constellations, the clouds, the blazing sun—seeing the beauty, perfections, and constant light that God created to reflect His glory 24/7.

These heavenly bodies of light and beauty and ever-changing color palette are all created by God for the whole world to see as a type and shadow of His promises that are ever-faithful and with us every day. A continual, glorious reminder that light exposes what we really need to see. Light breaks through darkness. Light gives direction and guidance. It gives hope. Light burns away impurities. And, in the case of lightning, it strikes its target with a holy fire accuracy. 

And it is not a jolting transition, really, when David suddenly moves in Psalm 19 from the cares of the world, to seeing a humongous and perfectly faithful God once more, to seeing and remembering and speaking the perfections of God’s Word and His promises. They are perfect promises that bring light into dark places…they give strength…they can always be trusted…they bring us wisdom to guide our steps…they help make us content because they are always good…they give us hope….

Maybe Lewis is right because we need this Psalm 19 reminder every single day. The constant barrage of the “stuff” and stresses of daily life can get us running routine laps—we get so focused on what’s right in front of us, and get distracted by responsibilities, and by buttons and gadgets and all sorts of bright and shiny objects, and so without even realizing it,  God becomes small and far away. Our faith wanes a bit. We keep running, exhausted with each step…

…Until God taps us on the shoulder once more with a “Hey, check this out!”, just as He did this week during a different kind of run through the neighborhoods surrounding downtown, some six months after that beautifully warm June night. It was symbolic that the route began straight up a long hill—not unlike the week of “stuff” and stresses of daily life. It would have been easy to keep staring at my feet, wanting desperately for this hill to be done. But to see to the top of the hill, you have to look up. And what I saw was a December evening sky that may be icy cold but that can still speak at jaw-droppingly fortissimo: A patented tinge of orange-blue-pink hovering on the western horizon while above are constellations in high definition.

I wanted to stop and stare, but I kept going and stared anyway. Perhaps, as it should be, as He designed this journey all along. And maybe it was the running by home after home decorated for the season, but a strange and wonderful revival began to flow through my veins. One that I had to write down when I got home so that June and December would never be fleeting, looking Up moments ever again:

To all who come this way today, Selah.