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Author Philip Yancey writes:
Where I live in the Rocky Mountains, you can see several thousand stars with the naked eye on a clear night. All of them belong to the Milky Way galaxy, which contains more than 100 billion stars, including an average-sized one that our planet Earth orbits around—the Sun.
Our galaxy has plenty of room: 26 trillion miles separate the Sun from the star nearest to it. And traveling at the speed of light, it would take you 25,000 years to reach the center of the Milky Way from our home planet, which lies out in the galaxy’s margins.
Until a century ago, astronomers believed the universe consisted of our galaxy alone. Then, in the 1920’s, Edwin Hubble proved that one apparent cloud of dust and gas in the night sky, named Andromeda, was actually a separate galaxy. Now there were two. When NASA launched a large telescope into space for a clearer view, they appropriately named it after Hubble.
In 1995, a scientist proposed pointing the Hubble Space Telescope at one dark spot, the size of a grain of sand, to see what lay beyond the darkness. For ten days, the telescope orbited Earth and took long-exposure images of that spot. The result, which has been called “the most important image ever taken,” would astonish everyone. It turns out that tiny spot alone contained almost 3,000 galaxies!
Scientists now believe that if you had unlimited vision, you could hold a sewing needle at arm’s length toward the night sky and see 10,000 galaxies in the eye of the needle. Move it an inch to the left and you’d find 10,000 more. Same to the right, or no matter where else you moved it. There are approximately a trillion galaxies out there, each encompassing an average of 100 to 200 billion stars.
How should we adapt to this humbling new reality? Back when people assumed the universe comprised a few thousand stars, a psalmist marveled in prayer, “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?” (Ps. 8:3–4).
The answer, of course, is found in the New Testament revelation that God loves the world so deeply (John 3:16) that he sent his Son in the form of a servant (Phil. 2:6-7) to die for humanity. In an act of humility beyond comprehension, the God of a trillion galaxies chose to “con-descend”—to descend to be with—the benighted humans on this one rebellious planet, out of billions in the universe.
Source: Adapted from Philip Yancey, “When You Feel Small, Look to the Cosmos and the Cross,” CT magazine online (2-8-22)
As the village speeches dragged on, eyes drifted to screens. Teenagers scrolled Instagram. One man texted his girlfriend. And men crowded around a phone streaming a soccer match. Just about anywhere, a scene like this would be mundane. But this was happening in a remote Indigenous village in one of the most isolated places of the planet.
The Marubo people have long lived in communal huts scattered hundreds of miles along the Ituí River deep in the Amazon rainforest. They speak their own language, hunt, fish, and trap spider monkeys to make soup or keep as pets.
They have preserved this way of life for hundreds of years through isolation—some villages can take a week to reach. But since September (of 2023), the Marubo have had high-speed internet thanks to Elon Musk.
The 2,000-member tribe is one of hundreds across Brazil that are suddenly logging on with Starlink, the satellite-internet service from Space X. Since its entry into Brazil in 2022, Starlink has swept across the world’s largest rainforest, bringing the web to one of the last offline places on Earth. The results have been less than utopian:
“When it arrived, everyone was happy,” said 73-year-old Tsainama Marubo sitting on the dirt floor of her village’s maloca, a 50-foot-tall hut where they sleep, cook, and eat together. The internet brought clear benefits, like video chats with faraway loved ones and calls for help in emergencies. “But now, things have gotten worse,” she said. […] “Young people have gotten lazy because of the internet.”
After only nine months with Starlink, the Marubo are already grappling with the same challenges that have racked American households for years: teenagers glued to phones; group chats full of gossip; addictive social networks; online strangers; violent video games; scams; misinformation; and minors watching pornography.
Leaders realized they needed limits. The internet would be switched on for only two hours in the morning, five hours in the evening, and all day Sunday.
Decades ago, the most respected Marubo shaman had visions of a hand-held device that could connect with the entire world. “It would be for the good of the people,” he said. “But in the end, it wouldn’t be.” “In the end,” he added, “there would be war.”
His son sat on the log across from him, listening. “I think the internet will bring us much more benefit than harm,” he said, “at least for now.” Regardless, he added, going back was no longer an option. “The leaders have been clear,” he said. “We can’t live without the internet.”
Two things here stand out: The first, that exposing a remote tribe to this modern tool created many of the same problems experienced within modernity: Use of the internet changes the user. Secondly, the categorization of the internet as simultaneously harmful and essential is perhaps unsurprising, but it’s fascinating that putting limitations on use of the internet seems to be the best way to deal with this ambiguity.
Source: Adapted from Todd Brewer, “The Internet’s Final Frontier: Remote Amazon Tribes,” Another Week Ends Mockingbird (6-7-24); Jack Nicas, “The Internet’s Final Frontier: Remote Amazon Tribes,” New York Times (6-2-24)
Blogger Stephanie Duncan Smith describes the awe she felt watching a total solar eclipse:
[My husband] Zach and I hiked up to a ridge with our supernova glasses. I won’t forget the way the sun just … dimmed, snuffed out, the way the birds swooped in confusion thinking it was nightfall, the magic of witnessing this cosmic event together.
Though not everyone felt that way. I am paraphrasing from memory, but a high-profile CEO tweeted at the time that while everyone else might be staring at the sky through their cereal boxes that day, she would be in the office making millions.
Imagine being bored by the thought of beholding something bigger than yourself, something wild and other and alive. Imagine considering yourself “above” the cosmic orbit in which you make your creaturely home. This executive considered herself too busy to be bothered by the wonder of a world outside herself. She was opting for the security of the measurable, the predictable, all that can be calculated and forecast and scaled. Yet by doing so, she was opting out of the sheer gift of being wowed.
It is human nature to want to be wowed. Environmentalist Paul Hawken once said, “Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course … We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead, the stars come out every night and we watch television.”
Every night! There is a cosmic event. Every night, an invitation to participate in what psychologists refer to as the experience of “perceived vastness,” or awe. As Hawken highlights here, we tend to tune out the familiar.
Source: Stephanie Duncan Smith, The Art of Making the Common Uncommon, “Slant Letter with Stephanie Duncan Smith” (4-8-24)
David rejoices in the fact that God's steadfast love toward those who fear him can be illustrated by the height of the heavens above the earth (Ps. 103:11). David was not an astronomer. He had no grasp on the unimaginable magnitude of the height to which he refers. But we do today.
A good way to help us fathom the unfathomable is the light-year. A light-year is how far light travels in one calendar year. Light moves at 186,000 miles in one second. Multiply 186,000 times 60 seconds, and you have a light-minute. Multiply that figure by 60 minutes, and you have a light-hour. Multiply that figure by 24, and you have a light-day, and that by 365, and you have a light-year. So, light can travel almost six trillion miles (the number six followed by 12 zeroes) in a 365-day period. That's the equivalent of about 12,000,000 round trips to the moon.
Let's assume we are speeding in a jet airplane at 500 miles per hour on a trip to the moon. If we traveled non-stop, 24 hours a day, it would take us just about 3 weeks to arrive at our destination. If we wanted to visit our sun, 93 million miles from earth, it would take us a bit more than 21 years to get there. And if we wanted to reach Pluto, the dwarf planet farthest away in our solar system, our non-stop trip would last slightly longer than 900 years.
Now, try to get your mind around this: The Hubble Telescope has given us breathtaking pictures of a galaxy some 13 billion light-years from earth. That would put this galaxy 78 sextillion miles from earth (the number 78 followed by 21 zeroes).
If we are traveling at 500 miles per hour nonstop, literally 52 weeks in every year, with not a moment's pause, we would reach this galaxy in 20 quadrillion years (The number 20 followed by 15 zeroes)! And that would get us just to the farthest point that our best telescopes have yet been able to detect. This would be the mere fringe of what lies beyond. It is currently estimated that there are around two trillion galaxies in the observable Universe.
Pause for a moment and let this sink in. Are you beginning to get a feel for what it means to know that God's love for you, is greater than the distance between the heavens and the earth?
Source: Adapted from Sam Storms, A Dozen Things God Did With Your Sin, (Crossway, 2022), pp. 96-98
The New York Times ran an article about Chinese immigrants in the United States who meet by phone at night for worship and fellowship. More than one hundred people call each night to the Church of Grace in Manhattan's Chinatown, where the pastor leads them in hymn singing and Bible study.
The immigrants are spread out around the United States, working "bone-wearying 12-hour shifts as stir-fry cooks, dishwashers, deliverymen and waiters at Chinese restaurants, buffets, and takeout places." Not speaking English, they are isolated and lonely.
Using their cell phones they "sing praises to God over the phone and study … the Bible together." The far-flung restaurant workers "have come to form a virtual church on Monday through Thursday nights, deriving spiritual sustenance and companionship."
"It's like there's a giant net, connecting people from all different places together,” said Mr. Chen, speaking in Mandarin. He said that the "Bible study offered him a lifeline, a rare chance to escape. For us brothers and sisters who are out of state,” he said, “the Bible study over the phone is central to our lives." Sometimes Bible study participants ask questions. Sometimes they share news about their lives and pray for each other. Though unable to see each other, they form a community as they listen and are heard.
The teacher, speaking about the disciples going from village to village with Jesus, tells the restaurant workers that they "could go from buffet house to buffet house, planting seeds of faith wherever they went." Grace flows to them and through them to the world.
Source: Susan S. Phillips, “The Cultivated Life” (IVP Books, 2015), pgs. 28-29
As the farthest reach of our love for each other is loving our enemies, as the farthest reach of God's love for us is loving us at our most unlovable and unlovely, so the farthest reach of our love for God is loving him when in almost every way that matters we can neither see him nor hear him ... when the worst of the wilderness for us is the fear that he has forsaken us if indeed he exists at all.
Source: Frederick Buechner in A Room Called Remember. Christianity Today, Vol. 40, no. 12.
I had a delightful, fifteen-minute telephone conversation last Tuesday. Actually I shouldn't call it a conversation. It was more ... well, I'll just tell you about it.
I called a company I do business with. A pleasant female voice said, "Hello, thank you for calling Joy, Inc. If you're on a touch-tone phone, select your choice at any time. If you're calling to check on your credit account, press 1 now. If you have questions about ordering procedures, press 2. If you would like a review of new products, press 3. If you would like to speak to a particular person and you know the extension, key that in now. If you ..."
Well, I was in luck because I knew Joe's number, so I keyed 357 knowing I would soon be chatting away with my rep.
Sure enough, after three or four rings, there was Joe's familiar voice. "Hi, this is Joe. I'm away from my desk right now. But if you'd like to leave a message, you can do so at the tone. If you prefer to wait, my secretary will assist you as soon as possible."
I wasn't particularly pressed for time, so I decided to wait. The tone beeped pleasantly, and since I didn't say anything (I guess) I heard the voice of a pleasant woman: "I'm sorry we can't get to your call immediately, but if you'll hold, your call will be serviced by the first available person. In the meantime, Joy Inc. would like for you to sit back, turn on your speaker phone, and relax to music of your choice. If you prefer classical orchestral music featuring the London philharmonic playing Dvorak, press 1. If you're in the mood for Christian vocalists, enjoy Dawn Rike's new album by pressing 2. If you'd ..."
After several minutes of soothing sounds, Joe's voice surprised me. "This is Joe. Apparently your call hasn't been processed yet. If you'd like to leave a message, you can do so now."
"Joe, this is Louis. I wanted to know about the payment date we discussed a few weeks ago. Please give me a call at home."
Before I could hang up, Joe's voice returned. You can imagine my delight.
"This is Joe. Thanks for calling ... Louis ... I value your business, and you can be assured I'll get back to you soon. It has been a pleasure to bring you Joy."
All in all, the experience could have been worse. Nobody was rude or brusque. All my desires were considered. The music was pleasant. I've done a lot worse with real people.
Source: Louis McBurney, Marble Retreat, Marble, Colorado. Leadership, Vol. 14, no. 2.