Today was a very magical day.
I was brought into the sky with a warm, spherical, glowing ball. It was soft, and there were things flying around in it. We passed the weirdly coloured horizon, until the earth became nothing but a small ball in the distance. At first I only saw the little that I could see in the sky. The stars looked small, like fairy dust, and even though I said I could see so many stars, I really couldn’t see that many even though I tried really really hard. I lied to myself, I told myself that I COULD see them. (I’m sorry Darren!)
Maybe it’s because I did want to see that many, I wanted so badly, but no matter how far and how hard I looked, there were only a few of them, the ones that were closest to us. Those I could see.
But that was as far as my universe went.
And later on in the day, God let me see the stars that I couldn’t see. The ones he created. The rest of the universe, or everything!
So, so many of them, so big and bright and amazing! The ones he created by name and knows in detail. He painted the sky with stars, and each one carefully put into place for the world to see. He loves us so much to give in so much thought to a sky that hardly anyone appreciates anymore.
And I was on that ball, and I remember telling God that I didn’t want to come down. I didn’t want to go back. But I felt so incredibly undeserving, of God, to let me even have a glimpse of this. I don’t deserve any of this, I deserve nothing at all, not me.
And as I walked I felt guilty, so horrible, so stupid, so ignorant, so foolish, so self-centred, so arrogant, so miserable, so misinformed, so meaningless, so shallow, so blind. For taking him lightly. For seeing him with my shallow eyes. For not giving him my all. For not doing my all. For not trying hard enough to give God the glory he deserves
Because ‘all’ of me is not even enough to make up to the light of a single out of the billions of stars he created. I was only capable of seeing one as small as a speck of dust.
But it’s not because of how small I am.
It’s because of how big God is.
It’s useless wasting my time thinking about how less of there I am! I should be focusing on his greatness and goodness than on the speck of dirt that is me.
Because of these wonderful stars that say so much though they are silent. They cry out the love of God, they shout out his greatness, they declare the faith we should put in him, they praise his splendid wonder and awe, they sing out about the one who knows them each by name, they remind us of how much he cares, they prove his hand on our world, and that he is bigger than anything we can ever dream of.
This is what the stars say.
And he, God of the universe would have wanted to know us. I mustn’t EVER forget this part. Everything is useless if I forget that he loves, he actually loves! And wants to know someone like me. Someone as small as me. A vapour in the wind. A drop in the ocean. Not even a star in the universe. The God, creator and everything I can’t possibly give enough words to describe, would even come into my room every night and listen to me talk about stupid things. He gave us all what we can never ever deserve.
So now, if I were to go back to that house, with the creaky bench and the creaky floorboards and the wind chime. With the moist grass under my feet, and the large 7-floors-high tree. After I’ve dug though the snow, and opened the floorboard with difficulty, found the cold candle, the sign and the velvet carpet slide that went up. After I’ve wooshed through and stood on the platform. After crawling out the window and sitting on the chairs that stuck out. After I asked Darren what we would have seen when we looked up to the sky I wouldn’t have kept quiet. I would have said I saw the brilliance of God above us, and the sky would be so vast with stars. And I’d listen to them say those things. I would have said I wanted to sit there forever and listen to the stars. Because I can finally see them now.
I wouldn’t have been annoyed by what the deep voice that sounded like Aslan said next.
And this time, I’m not going to let the chairs slide back in. I would have cried out, “NO, WAIT!”
I’m not going to fall down back to the darkess I came from. I would hang on to a branch, maybe. And I would have caught Darren too. I refuse! I will continue to watch the stars!
And I’d go on with my life, with the stars above and what they say in my mind, always.