There are those special nights when I awake alert, so I am ready to observe and report. As you read this, I invite you to be with me to see what I see and appreciate the wonder of it all. It’s 3 a.m. on May 26, 2017 and I report from Crozet, Va, USA in the NE United States about 110 miles SSW of Washington. The location and time set the scene as I look skyward. After five days of rain, the skies at this moment are pristine and clear. It is a moonless night. This is what I see:
The northwestern sky shows the mighty Big Dipper tilted up with its handle bent down toward the south. Following the curve of the handle, I run into Spica. When the air is this clear, so the giant ‘Big Dipper’ asterism (pattern of stars with an appearance of a common object) sparkles. As I continue to turn southward, the galactic center of the Milky Way is prominent — showing itself as a milky cloud above the low southern horizon. That milky cloud fades a little bit but still shows amazing definition as I follow it northward and high above me. It nearly cuts the sky in half. As I look high in the northeast, the galaxy is marked by the Northern Cross (Cygnus), which appears to be lying on its side with the top of the cross at the northern most position and marked by the star Deneb. Cygnus is flanked by Vega (nearly overhead) and Altair (in the high eastern sky). The two stars are like sentinels on either side of Cygnus, which is along the Milky Way’s center region. As I turn North and continue to follow the Milky Way north of Cygnus, I run into Cassiopeia, the big “W” or “M” in the north-northeastern sky above my local tree line. But the whole view is not one to be taken quickly. So I stand for awhile and make the traverse from the Sagittarius to Cassiopeia and back again slowly to take it all in. All of this is but the local stellar neighborhood, the close city of stars that were placed around earth. There are tens of thousands of these cities of stars, many of which I have seen at other times.
The first verses of Psalm 19 state why the view is special: it declares the glory of God and has a language that is universal. Genesis 1 states when all this was created — on Day 4 of creation. The genealogies stated in the Bible nail the creation point a little over 6000 years ago. the Book of Job eloquently cites God’s conversation with Job as He notes various parts of creation, including the stars. The prophets speak of the glory of the heavens in several books as they worship and praise the Creator in well known words. So, the historical context of my observation is well established. There is nothing, however, that makes it more real than a night like this where I see it in person, then associate it with the historical context in the Record.
There is not one equation that can be cited that created any of this. Equations and models and studies are hardly able to deal with the processes involved, and only point to the Grand Creator. They do, however, when interpreted properly, point to the expansive power and majesty of the Creator, unless one chooses to suggest He had nothing to do with it.
But my report does not end here. It is true that the starry field and local galaxy point to Him as it did for me tonight, but His Spirit beckons individual people. Before I reported, I had been awakened with names of friends: the principle of a school in the Philippines, a little girl in the same location, some staff members at the same location, a friend in need in Virginia, and my lovely fiancée, who is staying in a home just over the Blue Ridge about 15 miles west of me. I had been praying for them. Why are these things important? While all of His creation points to Him, he beckons to members of the crown of His creation to know Him — individual people like you and me. His purpose has not changed. If he made the stars (and He did), and the Bible is true (and it is), then the heavens beckon us to be engaged with the Most High God.