Star of the show

“To whom will you compare me?

    Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One.

 

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:

    Who created all these?

He who brings out the starry host one by one

    and calls forth each of them by name.

Because of his great power and mighty strength,

    not one of them is missing. --Isaiah 40:25-26

There was a meteor shower last night, did you see it? The Camelopardalids, results of a newly-discovered comet trail, made their debut over North America last night, and will continue overnight for a few days. Meteorologists predicted it would be a spectacular show, maybe as many as a hundred shooting stars per hour, and most active after midnight. 

Now, if you know me at all, I am definitely a morning person-- and not a stay-up-till-midnight-for-a-meteor-shower kind of girl. But I had had a nap. And-- I had had iced tea for dinner. So I decided I would go for it.

I grabbed a jacket, wished I had taken a blanket, as well. I headed out the back door, and Mama Finch didn't even bother flying off her nest as I went. 

I have an automatic porch light that comes on to be sure the burglars can see their way to my door all right-- and it came on right on cue. I went to the back of my yard, found the Big Dipper and the North Star to orient myself, dragged my Adirondack chair to a good spot, and sat down to wait for the light to go off. It was a gorgeous evening. Just gorgeous.

As I sat, I realized how deep the quiet had become. The only sounds I was hearing were human sounds: voices next door, a radio recapping the Indians game from the house behind-- cars and motorcycles whizzing down the Interstate a mile away.

No chirps, no buzzes-- not even a dog barking in the neighborhood. 

Everything was bedded down for the night, accepting of the darkness-- except us. People. God's most favored creation just can't find comfort in the night, it seems.

I sat, listening to my own deep breathing, feeling the heaviness of the dark (even in my citified setting). My phone buzzed softly, bringing a text from Montana and a smile to my face. Waiting. 

Then it happened: the first shooting star to cross my path of vision. It moved more slowly than I expected-- a wonderful benefit for these inexperienced eyes. 

I made a wish (as I had been told to do), smiled and settled back to watch for the next one.

I saw nowhere near a hundred shooting stars, but I did see a handful.

But the best part, for me, was having found an excuse simply to sit outside, late at night, alone under the great canopy of heaven. 

To realize, once again, just how tiny I am in the Grand Scheme of Things. I am but a speck, my life a glimmer (if even that). 

And yet. 

And yet in the eyes of the Creator, I am as important, as beloved as anything. And I am distinctly different, unique among all God's handiwork.

Never before and never again will there be another Heidi. Or-- another you.

Each of us was carefully, deliberately created to perfection. And while we may have mucked that part up a bit . . . still we are created in the image of the Divine. We are called by name, beloved of God.

And not a one of us is missing, for when we are absent God desires us and invites us to return. Time after time after time, no matter how badly we behave, still the Almighty One awaits our return, wooing us and pursuing us across time and eternity to bring us Home.

One might think that sitting in the dark under the vast expanse of the night sky would lead one to feel less significant. 

Imagine my surprise and delight to come inside feeling more aware of my place at the Table.

Come. Sit over here by me at the Children's Table. Enjoy the view.

In memory

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. --1 Corinthians 13:12

I lost a friend today, someone I did not know well. Someone who came into my world through the miracle of the Internet, as we exchanged snappy, sometimes irreverent comments on the Upper Room Reflections devotional site. 

He called himself Buzz, told me this nickname came about because he had "buzzard breath." I never met him, so I can't attest to that, one way or another. But here is what I do know about my online buddy Buzz:

He had a deep, deep love for Jesus. Like me, Buzz was part of the Emmaus community-- in Missouri, where he lived. And he was on fire for the Lord! We didn't always see eye-to-eye on the way to express this, but when someone was in pain, Buzz had a gift for writing what needed to be heard-- and what needed to be said.

Buzz had another deep, deep love in his life: his wife, Linda. She emailed me to tell me of Buzz's sudden death, and I am grateful. They were together for over 25 years, and he loved her as much on his last day on earth as he did the day they married. I am certain her heart is broken. She will be in our prayers.

And then there was their dog, Bocce. Sometimes it felt like Bocce was the "glue" that held things together when they were struggling. Ironically, it was while walking Bocce that Buzz fell, struck his head and died. Bocce is mourning today, as well. They know, don't they. Those friends we call "dumb" know when they have lost a loved one, a part of their lives.

So, Buzz-- I know, without a doubt, that you are now nestled eternally in the arms of the Almighty. And I bet you're not asking a single one of those questions that were on the tip of your tongue in life, because now, in this time beyond time, you have found the answers you sought.

You can see, fully and clearly in the reflection of Life, that you were, indeed, created in the image of the Divine.

It's a good look, friend.

And you know so much more, now, don't you.

Rest in peace, Buzz. Well done, good and faithful one.

Mosaic

There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. --Galatians 3:28

Over the past week or so, there has been this pattern, so to speak, emerging around me. Everywhere I look, reference being made to pieces in a puzzle, members of community, beautiful mosaics. 

This verse from Galatians. It seems like "we" tend to take it to mean that in God's Kingdom, we are all alike. There are no differences, no gender, no religion. 

That's bunk.

Imagining God's Kingdom that way is boring, and not what I believe God had in mind. From the opening words of Scripture, God is all about diversity.

Plants and animals of every kind God created, until the earth was teeming with variety.

God created us male and female. Why, now, would God neutralize (neuter?) the whole gender conversation?

Look around you. We do not all look the same. Not even close. Even within families, there is much variety.

Humanity much more closely resembles a bag of trail mix than a loaf of Wonder Bread, for pity's sake.

So what does this verse mean? 

I believe it means that these things are divisions that (for whatever reason) matter to us, but they are of no importance to the One who created all things and all people.

In the midst of creating, God paused a number of times and proclaimed, "It is good." After creating humanity, it was very good. 

If it was good then, if having all nature of things and plants and animals-- and human beings-- was God's delight and intent, guess what? 

It is still good. Very good.

Each of us, like the multi-colored pebbles or tiles in a mosaic, adds a unique glimmer of color, sometimes catching the light and shining boldly. Other times, we may be scuffed or damaged by our life's path at the moment, and be simply trying to hold our place. 

Even then-- especially then-- we are beautiful and beloved of God.

As you look at the person next to you on the bus, or behind you in line at the grocery, don't be afraid to see that they may be really very different from you. And at the same time, don't be afraid to notice that maybe they are taller/ shorter/ happier/ better off than you. 

Just don't, for a moment, allow yourself to think that they matter more (or less) in the eyes of the Almighty than you do. 

You are unique. You are loved. And you are absolutely perfect. Amen