God's Presence

They set off to spend eight days at the space station. The trip lasted nine months. On March 18, 2025, two NASA astronauts who had been in orbit since June, Suni Williams and Butch Wilmore, splashed down in calm, azure waters off the coast of the Florida Panhandle, concluding a saga that had captivated the country since last summer.

Ms. Williams and Mr. Wilmore blasted off in June of 2024 for the International Space Station on their test flight of Starliner. This was a Boeing spacecraft that was to provide NASA with another option, outside of SpaceX, to carry astronauts to and from orbit. But the Starliner experienced problems with its propulsion system, prompting NASA to send it back to Earth with no crew aboard.

They had a grateful, patient attitude about the whole experience. “It’s work. It’s fun. It’s been trying at times, no doubt,” Mr. Wilmore said in an interview. “But ‘stranded’? No. ‘Stuck’? No. ‘Abandoned’? No.” Ms. Williams added, “You get a little bit more time to enjoy the view out the window.”

By the end of their journey, Ms. Williams and Mr. Wilmore had traveled nearly 121,347,500 miles, having orbited the earth 4,576 times. Mr. Wilmore has spent a total of 31 hours conducting spacewalks during his career and Ms. Williams 62 hours, a record for a woman astronaut.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Life is like this… unpredictable, with lots of twists and turns and a need for patience. But we can also see the presence of Jesus in never stranding or abandoning us.

Thomas Torrance likes to repeat a simple story of what he calls “the unconditional nature of grace.” He writes, “Our grasping of Christ by faith is itself enclosed within the mighty grasp of Christ.” Then he shares this story and quote:

I sometimes recall what happened when my daughter was learning to walk. I took her by the hand to help her, and I can still feel her fingers clutching my hand. She was not relying on her feeble grasp of my hand, but on my strong grasp of her hand.

Is that not how we are to understand the faith by which we lay hold of Christ as our Savior? It is thus that our grasp of faith, feeble though it is, is grasped and enfolded in the mighty grasp of Christ who identifies himself with us, and puts himself in our place.

Ten years ago, Nathaniel Miller was at a vocational fork in the road. He had spent years praying and dreaming about pastoring a church, but Miller was short on cash. A pastor at his church suggested he connect with one of the congregants who owned a plumbing company. A decade later, he’s still plumbing.

In an article in Christianity Today, Miller writes:

It turns out that work, manual labor in particular, had been sitting right under my nose as perhaps the most direct route to learning the skills needed by those who desire to lead the church. I suspect I’m not alone. Any of us can become better at following Jesus by focusing on the demands and spiritual realities of our work. Rightly understood, work is the training ground where good Christians are made.

When I’m installing a water heater … every facet of my being is involved in the execution and completion of the work …. Over the past decade as a blue-collar worker, I have accidentally found a way of life that, far from keeping prayer at bay and hindering me from being with God because of my duties, has put me in the middle of a centuries-long, devout experiment. It teaches me at least these two things: In Christ, I am praying precisely because I am working, and I am becoming better at being a pray-er because I am a worker.

My hands participate in the work of bringing order to the world around me, and they thumb through theological works; they bring peace between homeowners and their homes, and they build the kingdom; they’ve learned to turn wrenches, and they’re learning to pray without ceasing.

I’ve discovered that practicing being in God’s presence and growing in the Christian life is something any of us can do in virtually any line of work, not just as pastors or church leaders. My plumbing vocation certainly isn’t the life I expected, but it’s turning out to be the life for which I prayed.

In May 2022 astronomers announced an extraordinary discovery. They claimed they had pierced the veil of darkness and dust at the center of our Milky Way galaxy to capture the first picture of “the gentle giant” dwelling there. It is a supermassive black hole, a trapdoor in space-time through which the equivalent of four million suns have been dispatched to eternity, leaving behind only their gravity and violently bent space-time.

The image, released in six simultaneous news conferences in Washington and around the globe, showed a lumpy doughnut of radio emission framing empty space. Oohs and aahs broke out at a meeting with the press when Feryal Özel of the University of Arizona displayed what she called “the first direct image of the gentle giant in the center of our galaxy.” She added, “I met this black hole 20 years ago and have loved it and tried to understand it since. But until now, we didn’t have the direct picture.”

In 2019, the same team captured an image of the black hole in a different galaxy. One astronomer described the discovery this way: “We have seen what we thought was ‘unseeable.’”

Possible Preaching Angles:

One day, the Bible promises that we will see the “unseeable” when we meet God face-to-face and Jesus wipes every tear from our eyes.

Dr. Eric McLaughlin is a missionary doctor in Burundi, one of the poorest nations on the planet. After years of watching one out of seven of his patients die, it is hard for him to hold onto hope. He tells the story of Odette, a young woman who was hospitalized with terrible kidney failure. Odette’s family pooled their money to send her to a kidney specialist in the city. Long-term dialysis was not an option, so Dr. McLaughlin wondered if the expense of such a trip would change anything for her.

Dr. McLaughlin writes, “I fear to hope sometimes. My recent weeks had been filled with tragedies like Odette’s. More than that, there had been several times when it seemed like someone was going to recover but then suddenly died. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick,’ says Proverbs 13:12. Exactly; my heart was sick.”

Amid his lament and doubt, his phone chimed. Dr. McLaughlin saw that the messages were from a friend named Onesphore, a former student and coworker. Now he works at a hospital in the city.

“Good morning doctor. I wanted to let you know that we have been caring for Odette. We have not been able to do much. But some fluids and careful observation have resulted in her kidneys returning almost to normal! We’re sending her home today. I just thought you would want to know. Praise God!”

Not only was Odette healed, but I heard the news from someone I had helped train for his current job. The good news arrived precisely when I was sitting there thinking about how afraid I was to hope. The idea that God was present was no longer theoretical; it was real and sudden. In a moment, the revealing of this whole story filled me with tearful joy, not a small amount of fear, and a renewed hope.

Singer-songwriter Sandra McCracken shares insight of how an early morning flight changed her perspective on her problems:

One morning I boarded an early flight to Florida for a music gig. My mind scrolled through the usual anxieties, like old tapes on repeat. From a west-facing window I found myself ruminating over some troubling circumstances that were pending resolution.

It was dark as we ascended through heavy clouds. Most of the window shades were closed in the cabin. A little time passed, then someone on the left side of the plane opened their shade across the aisle from me. The morning sun shot a blaze of pink light across my face. The sunlight lifted my spirits.

I looked back to see the view out the west-side window. It remained predominately dark. I had been so wrapped up in my tiny scope of vision that I hadn’t realized the sun had crept over the horizon. While one side of the aircraft was glowing with light, the other was still in the shadows. Perspective has a way of shifting our experience.

On any given day, I could make a list of my anxieties, but the morning light shining on the east side of that airplane reminds me that I could just as easily make a list of the good gifts that God has given me. Sometimes I choose to look out the dark side of the plane, into the shadows, and I focus on what is broken or needs repair. This is essential to know and consider the reality of our world. But I can get stuck there.

But no matter which window I looked out, all the while I was strapped safely in the window seat of that airplane. And all the while the pilot continued to steer the plane toward our destination. In spite of our shifting perspectives, we have a destination. God has gone before us to lay out a good plan for our lives (Jer. 29:11, Isa. 30:21). Even as we keep ourselves on the trajectory that God has purposed for us, he holds us and guides us along the way.

Henry Drummond wrote:

Ascension … what if it didn't happen? Suppose Jesus had not gone away. Suppose he were here on earth NOW. Suppose he were still in the Holy Land--Jerusalem.

Every ship that started for the East would be crowded with Christian pilgrims. Every train flying through Europe would be thronged with people going to see Jesus.

Supposing YOU are in one of those ships. The port when you arrive after the long voyage is blocked with vessels of every flag. With much difficulty you land and join one of the long trains starting for Jerusalem. As far as the eye can reach the caravans move over the desert in an endless stream. As you approach the Holy City you see a dark mass stretching for (miles and miles) between you and its glittering spires. You've come to see Jesus, but you will NEVER see him.

Churches and places of worship have been badly hit hard by the pandemic. So, in the first week of the first lockdown, as the Church of England shut its doors, the Reverend Pat Allerton, vicar of London’s St. Peter’s, had a brainwave. Nicknamed the Walking Priest, he says, “I had an idea to take a hymn and a prayer to the streets of my parish, to lift spirits and bring a bit of joy. So, on March the 26th, I went out to Portobello Road.”

He was cautious about the effects of hitting the streets with a loudspeaker, blaring out Judy Collins’ Amazing Grace on Spotify. He says jauntily, “I thought I might be told to ‘do one’ (English slang for ‘disappear’). But I was amazed by the response. People were really moved. They clapped and invited me back! They probably regret that now. I believe God was coming alongside people, letting them know He’s there.”

Over the following weeks, Allerton did 64 walking services around London, helped by the amazing weather. Each service--with a hymn, a prayer, and a 60-second sermon--took seven minutes. He invited people--up to 50 at a time--to join in from a window or doorway. “So many people commented on social media, saying things like, ‘I’m not religious but I’ve got goosebumps. There are tears coming down my face.’ God’s presence was touching people.”

The furthest galaxy discovered by spectroscopy is z8_GND_5296. 6 No, that's not an old AOL screen name. It's a galaxy that is 13.8 billion light-years old, or 13.8 billion light-years away. Spatially speaking, it's the highest height. The deepest depth is the Challenger Deep, part of a trench 6.85 miles beneath the U.S. Territorial Island of Guam. From the zero gravity of space to the 1,000-times atmospheric pressure of the deep seas, God's love is present and accounted for. You can't escape it, even if you could escape time and space. His love goes beyond the borders of space, beyond the boundaries of time.

In an article for Leadershipjournal.net, pastor Clark Cothern shares how a power outage at his church revealed the power of God:

Our church meets in a rented gym. We're looking for property and are eager to settle into a more permanent structure. Someday. For now we are navigating the path of being somewhat nomadic.

One Sunday in June, we experienced a few spotty rain showers. No high winds. No lightning. A very normal Sunday in the Midwest. We were two weeks away from a forced, six-week relocation, due to our facility's parking lot being repaved.

We planned to become much more "unplugged" as we used the smaller meeting space in a graciously cooperative nearby church. We were prepping our congregation and praying earnestly that the changes would turn into an opportunity for us to get to know God better. We knew we would be in for some unexpected teachable moments.

After the announcements, including the explanation of our upcoming change of location, and after some high-energy, electrically charged musical worship, we began our time of Communion.

As people formed two lines, making their way up the center aisle, Steve, our worship leader, played an appropriately worshipful song on the electric piano. Halfway through the song, and with half the congregation yet to reach the Communion elements, the lights went out. Instant silence. Well, almost. All you could hear were the piano keys thumping in rhythm to the song Steve had been playing. Steve grinned and stopped thumping.

Someone had to say something, so I said, "Isn't it good to know that God's power will be displayed whether or not we have electricity?" People chuckled and, realizing we could all still see well enough to continue, they continued coming forward to the table.

I began singing a praise song everyone knew. Within two measures everyone had joined in, voices only. Harmonies floated in the room from places where we normally didn't hear them. A sense of community enveloped the room. It was a holy moment.

What began as a fairly typical time of Communion in familiar surroundings was transformed into a unique time of worship and a supercharged awareness of God's presence.

When everyone had obtained their bread and juice and returned to their seats, I prayed, "Lord, thank you that your power is on display, especially when our power is gone. Continue to pour out your power as we look into your Word. Amen."

At that very instant—a nanosecond after "Amen"—the electricity came on again. Air conditioner compressors roared. Pop machine motors whirred. Sound system amplifiers hummed. And all the lights came on.

For a brief moment, everyone gasped. Then the entire congregation burst into laughter. I said, "Oh, now He's just showing off!" More laughter. Holy laughter. The kind of laughter when you know you've just seen God's power displayed along with his humor.

Looking back, I think God was showing us that our upcoming changes would be just fine. He was showing us that worship isn't about our preferences. We knew that no matter what the changes in our worship space, he would be there to meet us.

In the Koch Gallery of Boston's Museum of Fine Arts hangs Bartolome Murillo's Christ after the Flagellation, a painting that depicts two angels gazing sadly upon Jesus just after his whipping at the hands of Pilate's soldiers. Although most of the image is shadowed, you can clearly see the angels and Jesus on his hands and knees. His eyes barely open, body battered, the marks of the lash evident upon his back. The painting is so dark it seems to be set in a dungeon and it takes you a few minutes to notice the pillar to which Jesus was bound at the far left, and a minute more to see the rope now lying idle and the blood spattered on the floor.

Then you peer more closely at the darkness and blink a couple times. You wonder if you've just been staring at one point for so long that a faint image is forming on your retina. You look away. But when you turn back to the painting, you see it is true: there is a slight luminescence around Christ's bruised head. The color lightens faintly and outlines a halo, still there despite the oppressive blackness of evil and pain.

Actor Jimmy Stewart found comfort in Psalm 91. When the United States entered World War II in 1941, Stewart enlisted in the Army Air Corps and prepared to go overseas. Stewart's father, Alex, choked up when he tried to bid him farewell, so he wrote a note for his son to read en route. After being shipped out, Jimmy read the words his father had been unable to say aloud:

My dear Jim boy. Soon after you read this letter, you will be on your way to the worst sort of danger. Jim, I'm banking on the enclosed copy of the 91st Psalm. The thing that takes the place of fear and worry is the promise of these words. I am staking my faith in these words. I feel sure that God will lead you through this mad experience. I can say no more. I only continue to pray. Goodbye, my dear. God bless you and keep you. I love you more than I can tell you. Dad.

As a veteran of the Spanish-American War, Alex knew the comforting power of Psalm 91:3-5 for those preparing for battle. "Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day."

Jimmy Stewart returned home a decorated war hero, unharmed even though his record included 20 combat missions. During the height of battle, Stewart said he learned to lean on the words of his tattered copy of Psalm 91, especially verses 1 and 2, which speak of God as a refuge and fortress.

Upon returning home, he told his father: "What a promise for an airman. I placed in his hands the squadron I would be leading. And, as the psalmist promised, I felt myself borne up."

I am burning with a fever, and have a violent cold; but Christ's presence makes me smile at pain; and the fire of his love burns up all fevers whatsoever.