Shooting Stars

Did you know that when we gaze up at the night sky we only see approximately .005% of the total area of the sky?? That's pretty incredible.

Last week, I had the privilege of spending a week up at Lake Tahoe. I savored each and every moment, and constantly marveled at the beauty of God's creation. My friend Janie mentioned she had never seen a shooting star, something I just found to be unacceptable and I prayed that she would get to see one at some point during the week. One night, Janie, myself, and her friend Hunter canoed out towards the center of the lake so we could watch the stars. It was absolutely breath-taking to be lying flat in a canoe, gazing up at the vast night sky just sprinkled with stars. Stars, stars, and more stars. Beautiful.

So the mission to see a shooting star begins. I was hoping we could see one. And if we were lucky, perhaps we could all see the same one. I tried to prepare myself to really be patient and to not get discouraged if I didn't see one. I was prepared to stare into the sky for a fair amount of time. Well, it had been maybe a total of five minutes and then...a flash of light shooting through the sky. Big and bright enough to cause the three of us to cheer and attempt to contain our excitement. Magical. But that was only the beginning...in the matter of the next thirty minutes...between the three of us, we easily spotted another dozen.

I mentioned all of this star stuff because it really parallels some life lessons God has been teaching me. In my stargazing experience (which is not extensive by any means, but something I do really enjoy), most nights are just not ideal for seeing shooting stars. Growing up in a city with some of the worst air quality in the country doesn't really help, nor does living in a very cloudy and rainy city. But there are those few nights...the ones where you are away from the city, up at a higher elevation, when there's not a cloud in the sky- and presto...a beautiful canvas of the galaxy. Even still, to catch that mere glimpse of the shooting star, you must be patient. You must be content to stare up at hundreds and hundreds of white shimmering specks and just hope you are looking in the right place at the right time. Perhaps that's why seeing a shooting star is so memorable, so special and magical and breath-taking.

A friend shared a devotion with me recently entitled "Wisdom in Waiting." It talked about how inpatient we, as humans, are in waiting for the Lord to speak into our lives, specifically regarding decision-making. We may pray a time or two (if even that) asking God to lead and guide us, yet when we don't hear an answer or sense God's presence, we get frustrated. Or we decide that means God is leaving it up to us. Yet do we consider that this apparent no answer from God might mean be patient? To keep waiting? To "be still and know that I am God"?

I like to know things. I fear the unknown. I want to hear God speak. I struggle to be still. But do I really want to give up on God and settle for a cloudy, mediocre view? Or do I have the patience and the discipline to wait for clear sky and the shooting star? Aka God's still, soft voice. In the seasons of life full of storms and trials, will I have faith and hold on for the clouds to roll back? Can I trust that I will be able to see that shooting star? Will I find peace in the unknown, in the mysteries and beauty and majesty that is our Heavenly Father?

Yes. Because I have seen, heard, and experienced the Lord's faithfulness in my life. I have seen shooting stars.