I'm wishing on a star...

The vast sky over Tennessee was a sight to behold last night. I'm from the concrete jungle and have been an apartment dweller all of my life, so it is rare that I see stars. The closet thing to stars I see are planes making their descent into Laguardia or Kennedy airports. Well, I saw the stars last night. The stars last night were declaring the glory of God. The stars last night sang me a love song. The stars last night, in the words of Darius Lovehall in Love Jones, "opened my eyes to the possibilities of a thing."They beckoned me to stay a little while longer.  They were brilliant. Resplendent, even. Last night I saw the Big Dipper (clearly and without a doubt). And at thirty-three years old, I saw my first shooting star. It was a night to remember.

I quickly made a wish. It wasn't hard to think of. In fact, it had been lingering in my mind, in my heart, and on my tongue for the last few days, months, and years. After I made my wish, I marveled and asked the folks around me, "Did you see that?" One did. He looked up, smiled and affirmed my sighting. Secretly, I wondered if he made a wish. I wondered what he wished for. He is a native Tennessean and is used to seeing the stars put on their show. Shooting stars may be such a regular occurrence to him that wish making isn't part of his experience with shooting stars. Whatever the case is for him, I know that in that moment I had become enchanted and hopeful. That night sky opened up the opportunity for worship. That shooting star become a moment of prayer. For a moment, everything stopped—sound, time, space—and I was at the altar of the Lord. That shooting star altered me. I am forever changed. 

As I drove home from my star gazing, I recalled the stories I'd heard about shooting stars when I was younger. Not the science of shooting stars—the fact that they are small, quick burning meteors—but the romanticized myth of shooting stars. We all know that I am a hopeless romantic. If my memory serves me correctly, shooting stars are supposed to be good luck. They are like birthday candles; They are used to invoke wishes. Well, I am convinced that God heard my invocation. Whether by shooting stars, birthday candles, or on bended knee, be sure to be enchanted by God and hopeful that He hears and answers the prayers of those who delight in Him (Psalm 37:4)

(image taken from kstp.com/kstpImages/ ShootingStar2.jpg)

Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay...

In 1967, just days before his death, Otis Redding recorded the following lyrics:

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time

Well, this evening, after a long day at work and a difficult reentry in the world of exercise, I sat in the backyard in a swing close to the lake and just watched. I wasn't alone. Jack, a three-year old beautiful black lab was sitting next to me as I stroked his head and told him about my day. As we were sitting, instinctively I began singing that Otis Redding tune. I sang it a few rounds until it dawned on me; I wasn't wasting time. 

At that moment I had a revelation. My spirit echoed the words of Habbakuk: But the LORD is in His holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him (2:19-20). As I sat, looking out on the lake, I was overwhelmed by the presence of God. The trees, the lake, the vast sky, and everything else in my view was in fact the temple of the Lord. I had been talking with Jack, but I got quiet. My head got quiet. My heart got quiet. My soul got quiet. There was a stillness that is reserved only for the reverence of Almighty God. 

I wasn't wasting time. I must admit, I have bought into the lie that if I am not doing something that I am wasting time. Well, my definition of doing 'something' has changed. Even as I sat there, seemingly doing nothing, I was acknowledging Almighty God. In that moment, I  actually discovered time. It was a time like none other. It was devotion time. It was prayer time. It was worship time. It was praise time. So I sat, and took it in. And Jack did too!