Giving Thanks to a Powerful, Wise Creator
A cataclysmic event of unimaginable proportions is taking place millions of light years from our solar system.
Two galaxies are colliding.
This extraordinary circumstance has triggered more than a thousand star clusters in these galaxies to explode and create a fireworks show unlike anything the human race has ever witnessed. Each massive star cluster is to our solar system what Mt. Everest is to a grain of sand. And we’re watching this breathtaking spectacle unfold before our eyes through the lens of NASA’s Hubble Space Telescope.
Were our Earth orbiting a star at the fringe of one of these two galaxies, the sky would constantly be ablaze with lights, day and night.
As we use Hubble to watch the destructive dance of the two nearby colliding galaxies--each containing more than a billion stars--we need to be attentive as to what isn’t happening. Despite breathtaking pyrotechnics, these swirling behemoths aren’t shaking the foundations of the cosmos itself. Their impact upon the universe is negligible, little more than a firecracker in a hurricane. They’re but tiny pinpricks of light in the vast enormity of space . . . lost among billions of other such galaxies in a universe that, to us, is unfathomable.
We, the human inhabitants of planet Earth, are sightless, quivering specks of matter, anchored to a tiny fleck of paint on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. We have absolutely no comprehension as to what it is upon which we sit.
What kind of enormous intellect--what magnificent being--stands behind this creation? What colossal mind put colliding galaxies into place, and set Pacific waves to crashing?
Human beings of every culture want to know him. Humanity is a worshiping species. Not one tribe on this planet goes about its daily life without bowing a knee to some higher authority. It’s not within our capacity to accept the ludicrous proposition that all of this--rotating planets, exploding star clusters and spiraling galaxies--is the byproduct of some accidental, self-initiated “first event.”
We hear the towering strains of “Ode to Joy,” from Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, and know that only his genius could construct such a musical Matterhorn. As technology enables us to peer ever deeper into the universe around us, we are left with only one conclusion: the brilliance of the architect who created this masterpiece is beyond anything we could possibly imagine! This is a being without limits.
Our need to worship would seem to confirm this God’s existence. What need in nature doesn’t have its concomitant resolution? We’re hungry for food because food exists to satisfy our appetite. We yawn because sleep is a possibility. We’re spiritually hungry because God stands ready--if invited--to alleviate that hunger.
I’m thankful this Thanksgiving season for a God who’s so big that I can’t begin to frame him.
And this God actually created . . . me. He placed my forebears on an Asian, Middle Eastern or African plain eons ago, and set in motion a mechanism for my arrival countless generations later. Though less than minuscule, I have the privilege of being a participant in his magnificent production.
To my way of thinking, the absolutely amazing part of all of this is the following: God--the creator of a billion galaxies--quite obviously has strong feelings for the tiny denizens of this world. In a universe that’s 99.999999999999% inhospitable to my frail species, he’s placed us in perhaps the only life-sustaining quarter available.
And he--the awesome power behind the cosmos--has revealed himself to us. Not just through exploding star clusters--though they get my attention, certainly--but intimately, through a single person. God, the supreme artist who’s greater than even his extraordinary creation, intentionally diminished himself in order to physically invade his creation’s boundaries. Ancient scriptures foretell of--and commence to describe--God’s personal appointment with humankind. He stepped into history and visited this inconsequential outpost in the form of the man, Jesus.
When our race stumbled and (dare I say the word?) sinned, we were faced with eternal estrangement from a perfect creator who, himself, demands perfection. In response to our rebellion, he took unprecedented action. He sent the unblemished sacrifice, Jesus Christ, to a Roman cross to reconcile humanity to himself . . . leaving us with a choice. We can accept or reject his gracious gift.
How magnificent and wonderful is this God!
I give him my thanks this Thanksgiving season.
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On Faith is a forum for Orange County clergy and others to offer their views on religious topics of general interest. Submissions, which will be published at the discretion of The Times and are subject to editing, should be delivered to Orange County religion page editor Jack Robinson.
