“If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown!  But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.” 

Although the philosopher and author Ralph Waldo Emerson harbored some erroneous theological viewpoints, this quotation from his book Nature is still a poetically moving tribute to the delight man has always found from gazing into the heavens.  It also highlights a regrettably accurate paradox:  the very fact that we can view these heavenly beings every night makes us unlikely to notice them at all. 

Sometimes, on warm summer nights, I change that.  I go outside just before sunset to watch the world fade and the first pinprick stars begin to twinkle.  And I’m treated to one of the most artistic displays in all creation. 

First, the sun dwindles away in a bed of golden coals on the horizon.  A resplendent palette of purple and scarlet and rose pink yields to a faint wash of color in the west.  The air thickens and deepens with the hint of dusk, and the song of the night insects begins its rhythmic melody—quietly at first, then rising to a crescendo.  All around are the subtle messengers of the night—the white moth rising from that clump of grass—the bat swooping dizzily overhead—the lonely sigh of the whippoorwill. 

I search the pale sky carefully, for this is the moment, the fleeting instant, when Day kisses Night and the stars are born.  And suddenly I see one—a tiny glimmer, small and easy to overlook.  I fix my eyes on it, admiring the way it seems to glisten, like a precious stone—until I notice another one, not far from the first one.  And then another one.  And another.  And another! 

In only a few short minutes, the sky becomes sprinkled with stars, and as the last light trickles out of the worn-out day, the whole cast of characters that tell the story of the zodiac appear in all their glory—Orion, the mighty hunter; Sagittarius, the powerful archer; Cassiopeia, the beautiful queen; Libra, the divine scales; Draco, the stealthy dragon; Gemini, the devoted twins.  The night is here, and the stars are out, and once more I am left standing on the curve of the earth, a mere mortal, staring slack-jawed at the worlds hanging just over my head. 

Yes, I love the stars.  They’re enigmatic, they’re majestic, and they’re downright fascinating.  Did you know, for example, that the average star has a diameter 109 times greater than that of Earth?  Or that the number of stars is said to be infinite—and still increasing?  Or that when you look at the stars, the light you see is crossing such an enormous distance that it began its journey to you at least four years ago?

Perhaps the most intriguing fact about the stars, however, is one that most people don’t realize.  After all, the fallacy is bred into the fabric of our language:  we speak of stars “coming out” in the evening or “going in” for the day.  However, much like the idea of a “rising” or “setting” sun (when it is in fact the earth that is moving), that terminology isn’t quite correct—because the stars are always there. 

Stars don’t drop a sky-blue curtain and disappear backstage when the sun rises.  Nor is there a magical celestial switch that’s flipped each evening to produce their light.  The stars shine with the same brightness and consistency twenty-four hours a day.  As is usually the case in our sin-feebled world, it’s our perception that’s skewed.  The bright light of the sun drowns out the lesser stars.  They can’t compete and thus become invisible during the day. 

Moreover, in our world today, the stars—and the privilege of viewing them—are in danger.  As humans contrive more and more ways to stretch the daylight thin, we are unconsciously stealing the stars’ best chance to wow us.  All the accumulated light of civilization—airports, shopping malls, gas stations, car headlights, factories, security lamps, even household porch lights—isn’t just staving off the darkness.  It’s also dimming the stars, or at least our view of them.  This photograph of Europe from outer space shows just how tremendous the amount of artificial light we produce really is.

Once, not so long ago, I could stand in my backyard and have a view of the stars as unobstructed as possible.  The main threats to my viewing were trees and mountains, not light pollution.  On many nights, I could even view the pink flickers on the horizon known as “airglow”—the mystical colors born of friction in the outer atmospheric layers, similar to the auroras. However, the city continues to creep closer to my home with a gradual but relentless stride.  Now, when I look to the west, I can see a glow on the far horizon that has nothing to do with natural processes and everything to do with a burgeoning city not too many miles away.  This scenario is being repeated worldwide as mankind literally steals the show from the stars.

In an effort to halt the progression, conservationists have established pockets of designated “Dark Sky Areas.”  Spearheaded by the International Dark Sky Association, the program seeks to salvage a dwindling and often unappreciated resource:  the presence of unvitiated night.  An explanation on the society’s website laments what is lost when too much artificial light infiltrates the environment:  “Plants and animals depend on Earth’s daily cycle of light and dark rhythm to govern life-sustaining behaviors such as reproduction, nourishment, sleep and protection from predators.  Scientific evidence suggests that artificial light at night has negative and deadly effects on many creatures including amphibians, birds, mammals, insects and plants.”

As of now, the foundation has created over 115 Dark Sky Areas worldwide.  In a beautiful paradox, these places preserve darkness—but reveal light.  Don’t believe me?  Just take a look.

This photograph is featured on the webpage for the International Dark Sky Foundation.  It was taken at Stanley Lake in the Central Idaho Dark Sky Reserve–the first such area in the United States. The sheer volume and brightness of the stars, not to mention the prominence of the Milky Way galaxy, is nothing short of breathtaking.  Without the artificial lights of the city, the stars can glow with a beauty that exceeds our wildest dreams. 

My friends, there’s a lesson for us here.  When God made the stars, He spoke a single sentence, and all the trillions and trillions of them, innumerable, unimaginable, leaped into the skies.  He flung them across the vast expanses of space with this command:  “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years” (Genesis 1:14 NASB).

There’s one part of this statement that grips my attention when I read it.  To separate the day from the night. 

In purely astronomical terms, the presence of stars in the sky provides a distinction between day and night.  However, in spiritual terms, the stars bring light into darkness. 

Doesn’t that sound like our job as Christians? 

When God made the stars, He was providing a way to still shine light even into the domain of darkness.  And when God ordained us to be His children, He was doing the same thing.  “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18 ESV).  In the dark night of this world, we are His “stars,” fulfilling the job of giving light.

How exactly do we accomplish this task?  Our job in this world is trifold:

1. To divide truth from falsehood.  On a dark night, it is easy to stumble or be unaware of approaching danger.  However, starlight helps us watch for potential pitfalls and avoid obstacles.  In this world, we as Christians are called to illuminate the people, the places, and the situations in which we find ourselves.  Because light exposes sin, sometimes our efforts are met with resistance, as Jesus declared:  “The light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil” (John 3:19 ESV). 

2. To provide guidance.  Since the earliest times, stars have served as guides to man.  The resounding accuracy of the North Star (see here for my blog post about true north) has faithfully led many to their destination, from the ships of New World explorers to the fugitive slaves of Civil War days.  Even the Magi were directed to the infant Christ by a star.  Just like the stars, we provide guidance to the world—a blueprint for how humans are designed to act, speak, think, and live.  In a world full of people who are morally confused and spiritually lost, the church provides the map back to God.

3. To glorify God.  Yes, we are to expose wrongdoing.  Yes, we are to guide others.  However, in the final analysis, our primary role is simply to glorify God through the expression of our love for Him.  If “the heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 19:1 ESV), surely we as the redeemed of the Lord have even more of a reason to shout His praises from the rooftops!

My friends, we are not designed to live insignificant lives, swallowed in the darkness of our culture.  Instead, we were created to bring glory to our Creator through the light we produce.  But sometimes, shining can seem very difficult.  When our marriage is thriving and our family is healthy, when there’s money in the bank and a car in the driveway, it’s not hard to radiate light.  But when darkness engulfs our world—when the spouse is distant, the loved one is ailing, the child is rebellious, or the bank account is dry—then shining seems like a bitter mockery.  In the blackness of our own “Dark Sky Area”—with the “artificial lights” we’ve used to numb our pain removed—we cry out in despair.  Like small children huddled in bed, we dread the darkness—whether it be the moral depravity of our society, the haunting evil of our own sin nature, or the cold night of a circumstance that seems to negate everything we once believed. 

However, in the marvelous grace of God, the dark times aren’t reason to tremble.  Instead, they’re a reason to rejoice. 

Does this sound crazy?  Look back at the photo of the Dark Sky Area.  Do the stars seem intimidated by all the blackness?  Do they look to be cowering in fear?  Does all that dark swallow up their light?  Far from it!  The greater darkness of their environment only provides a greater contrast, making their light even more awe-inspiring.  To the stars, darkness doesn’t extinguish; it extends.

And the same holds true for God’s people.  Consider the story of Paul and Silas.  A mission trip in Philippi ends in a very “black night” for these two men—confronted by a demoniac, unjustly accused, pummeled by a mob, whipped by the authorities, and then thrown into a torturous prison environment.  If ever there was a dark situation, this was surely it, as the two men of God nursed their wounds as they languished in chains at midnight in a foreign jail.  However, instead of succumbing to despair, they began praising God by “praying and singing hymns, and the prisoners were listening to them” (Acts 16:25 ESV).  God used their testimony and witness to bring salvation to the jailor and his household as well as to impact the lives of the convicts around them!  The darkness didn’t squelch their light; it only amplified it. 

So tonight, clear your calendar for a half hour around dusk.  Head outside and watch the world fade as the lanterns of Heaven begin swinging from the sky.  And as you watch, remember that God has given us the ultimate example of how to shine brightly.  Like the stars, He is constant, unmoved by time or space.  Like the stars, His light traveled an enormous distance to reach us—all the way from the Heaven He inhabits to the lowest depths of the hells we so often create.  Like the stars, His light irradiates our lives—comforting, convicting, guiding, and providing endless beauty.  We who have been “created after the likeness of God” (Ephesians 4:24 ESV) must follow His example, using our dark times not as an excuse to hide our light but as an opportunity to shine even brighter, in a way that dazzles the whole world.

Did you enjoy this post? How do you find ways to shine in “dark skies”? Let me know in the comments! Also, click here for more information about Dark Sky Areas and here for a song about shining in the darkness of this world.