Watching Meteors and Chasing Sunsets
If you are more interested in reading theological thought and the parsing of Scripture or if you simply are not a fan of metaphors taken from life (Awesome, though they may be), this post might not be for you. I feel the need to break from my usual fare of essays and share a more personal experience.
I was browsing the internet for articles of interest tonight when I came across a story about a meteor shower that was supposed to be visible. It was late and already dark enough to see it, so I went outside. It was a typical southern summer night; warm air, softened by stillness and humidity. As I went to lie down in the grass I couldn’t help thinking that it was one of those nights that might be nice to share with a lady friend. Nevertheless, it was just me, some quiet bluegrass music on Pandora, and my good friend, Dr. Bacco (aka Ol’ Pipey).
Why I got so excited about the possibility of seeing some meteors, I couldn’t really tell you. Yet there I was, on my back in the yard, eyes deep in the sky above. A few minutes passed, no meteors. I had to relight Ol’ Pipey. A few more moments passed, and still just the same little lights as when I went out there to begin with. I saw some vague blurs and lines that might have been the vestiges of meteors from long ago, but it is more likely that my glasses were fogged up and reflective. I started to get frustrated. The frustration turned into disappointment. Then my phone’s battery died and the bluegrass music was no more.
I considered admitting defeat and going inside. I’m glad I did not.
Here is the part of the story where you might expect that the heavens exploded with celestial fireworks. This is not that part of the story. In fact, that part is not in this story at all. I never saw any of the meteor shower. Thanks to some hazy cloud cover and all-too-close streetlight, my yard was exempted from the viewing area. However, what I saw was more remarkable to me.
While staring straight up into the night sky, I zeroed in on one particular star. I stared at it for a good minute or two. It was not the brightest star, nor the closest. I couldn’t make out any twinkling, but it kept my attention nonetheless. It was really beautiful. I tried to put myself in its place in the vastness of the universe; staring back at my yard. A powerful realization of the distance and time between me and this star began to change my understanding of the entire sky. My focus relaxed and began to slowly expand outwards. I saw star after star, each separated by billions of miles. I began to notice the subtle changes in color provided by the clouds and streetlight. The whole of the atmosphere began to show itself as a beautiful canvass of reality. It was so big, and I was so small, yet God put me in the right place in order to see all of it.
Spectacular.
I closed my eyes for a moment and was taken back to another time in my life that I was held captive by the beauty of a star. A little over a year ago I was driving to Denver, CO. I was passing through the long, flat prairies of Kansas when the sun began to set. I noticed that it was very pretty right away. The colors were magnificent, and I had never seen the horizon so clearly. After about thirty minutes, I started to realize that the sun was really taking a long time to set. It occurred to me that by travelling west at the right speed, I was literally chasing the sunset down, and that I could make it last a lot longer. It became a race. I sped up trying to catch up to that great sunset. I wouldn’t let it go. It started to get darker, though. The same initial disappointment and frustration came over me as did tonight. Then, the same realization of just how beautiful the whole experience was washed over me. I rolled down my windows, slowed down and took it all in. The sun eventually did set when I crossed into Colorado. It was the greatest road trip of my young life.
A valid question for those who have read this far would be, “What’s your point?” Here it is. In my lifetime, there have been goals that I have badly wanted to achieve. There are many of them right now that keep me up at night. There are lessons I want to learn and teach, jobs I want to have, people I want to love. These are my meteors; my sunsets. I want them so badly that if I don’t get them when I expect them, I get frustrated or I get disappointed. It is in these times that I easily lose sight of the beauty of life in its immensity and its beauty. God made all of life to be experienced, not just the meteor showers. I need to widen my vision and take every moment in. I need to let God decide when the fireworks explode, and enjoy the sky during the times they don’t. Instead of worrying about trying to rush down the sunset, I need to let go, and just enjoy the beauty around me.
I have an amazing family. I have friendships more loving than I could ever have hoped for. I have a mind full of thoughts to keep me going. And above all these things, I have Jesus who made them all happen. There is no need to rush life, and there is no need to be disappointed when things don’t work out just as I planned. I am not saying that I should forget my goals or disregard the great things God has to offer, but that I should not become so transfixed upon those things that I am rendered ignorant of all the goodness God puts into my life each and every day.
Look for meteors and chase the sunsets. Be mindful that there are still vast wonders to behold when those things are not happening as hoped.
