When Scripture Comes Alive in our Hearts

For months, we have been anticipating the total eclipse. We bought glasses, made plans, invited friends, burned vacation days, and read all the hype about crowds, shortages, and emergency declarations. On Monday, all the waiting came to an end as our ears were filled with “oohs” and “ahs,” and the moon covered the sun and cast the rapidly cooling air in a blue that was absolutely eerie. Even as the last seconds of direct sunlight ebbed into the moon’s shadow, we experienced wonder and awe. As I listened to the echo of the celebration, I couldn’t help but remember that the Psalmist had experienced a similar wonder.

When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—the moon and the stars you set in place—what are mere mortals that you should think about them, human beings that you should care for them?

Looking up at the “day-turned-night sky” of Monday, the magnificence of that event made me feel quite small, especially considering how fascinated we were by an event that was like a single grain of sand in a whole world of ocean sand. Our sun is dwarfed in size by other stars in our universe. Yet, it had the capacity to stop medical care in hospitals, traffic on the roadways, government in our courthouses, and dismiss classes in our region’s schools.

In that context, the Psalmist goes bigger than the skies and realizes that it is astounding that the Creator of all of those wonders would still be “mindful” of us. More than that, our Creator chooses to love, sustain, and lead us in our infinitesimal smallness! I looked up to the wonder of Monday afternoon and felt my smallness, but even in that moment, something written centuries before my birth came alive in my own heart and mind.

And we pray, “Jesus draw me close. . .”