The heavens are neither geocentric, nor even heliocentric, but Christocentric. It is the cross and the crucified and risen Jesus who has the whole world, and each of us, in his nail scarred hands.
In all her travels through the merry old land of Oz, Dorothy realizes there’s no place like home. In all his adventures over hill and under hill, with Gandalf, Thorin, and his company of dwarves, Bilbo longed not only to go “there” but to be “back again” to the comforts of Bag End.
Quite often, when we leave home we appreciate our homecoming all the more. And our lives at home are better for the journey taken and the road traveled.
It’s no secret that a good story has this enchanting, magical effect. When we explore the pages of another world, we see our own world a little better. The woods are enchanted. The sun shines brighter. The birds are singing a full-throated hymn of praise. Rivers clap their hands with joy. Trees sway and chant to the liturgy first sung in Genesis.
As G.K. Chesterton observes, “There are two ways of getting home, and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk around the whole world till we come back to the same place” (G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man).
Wonder and joy, amazement and awe aren’t confined to good stories of fantasy or science fiction. As astronaut Reid Wiseman recently discovered, not only do you find these gifts of God in a space capsule hurling around the moon at speeds of 24,000 mph, but also upon re-entry back home on planet earth.
During a recent post-mission press conference, astronaut Reid Wisemen, crew member of Artemis II, was asked to reflect on his time in space, and said:
“The sun eclipsed behind the moon. I turned to Victor and I said I don’t think humanity has evolved to the point of being able to comprehend what we are looking at right now, because it was otherworldly and it was amazing.”
Otherworldly. The perfect word to describe the indescribable. Wiseman was filled with awe. Wonder. What he saw was awesome in the deepest meaning of the word.
Wiseman’s words also shed light on something Christians have long held dear, but have forgotten or neglected in our modern age. The truth which shines bright as day and shimmers as the stars at night in Psalm 19:
The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
What Wiseman experienced on his voyage in Artemis II reminds me of Ransom’s discovery as he travels towards Malacandra in C.S. Lewis’s Out of the Silent Planet.
“He had read of 'Space': at the back of his thinking for years had lurked the dismal fancy of the black, cold vacuity, the utter deadness, which was supposed to separate the worlds. He had not known how much it affected him till now - now that the very name 'Space' seemed a blasphemous libel for this empyrean ocean of radiance in which they swam. He could not call it 'dead'; he felt life pouring into him from it every moment. How indeed should it be otherwise, since out of this ocean all the worlds and all their life had come? He had thought it barren: he now saw that it was the womb of worlds, whose blazing and innumerable offspring looked down nightly even upon the earth with so many eyes-and here, with how many more! No: Space was the wrong name. Older thinkers had been wiser when they made it simply the heavens. The heavens which declared the glory” (C.S. Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet, p. 32).
Indeed, the heavens are teaming with life. Far from cold and dead, space is a sea of light and beauty, wonder and awe, mystery and majesty. The heavens have a story to tell us, if we have ears to ear. They are the work of the Artist, the Craftsman, the Creator, if we have eyes to see. They have a song to sing. A sermon to preach to us.
The heavens have a story to tell us, if we have ears to ear. They are the work of the Artist, the Craftsman, the Creator, if we have eyes to see.
The wonder and beauty of creation, is truly otherworldly, and at the same time points to the God who came into this world.
And what is that story? That song? That sermon? Psalm 8 declares the wonder of the Creator who comes into his creation to save us. Scripture sings with joy the true story of the Infinite, Almighty God, who becomes incarnate and born of the Virgin Mary.
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You have given him dominion over the works of your hands;
you have put all things under his feet (Ps. 8:3-6).
Colossians 1 declares the same good news as well.
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross (vs. 15-20).
St. Paul moves us from creation to the cross. From the Son of God the Creator to the Son of God the Crucified one. From the otherworldly to the Word made flesh who comes to this world and gives his life for the life of the world.
For all the beauty and wonder Wiseman witnessed in the heavens, it was his return to earth and the sight of the cross that brought him to tears. He left earth in a thrilling plume of smoke and fire, and returned to earth weeping in wonder at the sight of the cross.
During that same interview, Reid Wiseman said, “I’m not really a religious person, but there was just no other avenue for me to explain anything or to experience anything, so I just asked for the Navy chaplain to come visit us for a minute. When that man walked in — I’d never met him before in my life, but I saw the cross on his collar, and I just broke down in tears.”
Wiseman, and the Artemis II crew traveled over 695,081 miles, spent nine days, one hour, thirty two minutes, and fifteen seconds traveling over 250,000 miles from home, he saw the dark side of the moon, witnessed the earth-set and the sun eclipsed behind the moon, and after all of that, it was the sight of a cross on the lapel of the Navy chaplain’s uniform which made him most emotional.
“I saw the cross on his collar, and I just broke down in tears.”
The thread that held the story together, the symbol that helped him make sense of what he had witnessed and brought tears to his eyes was the cross.
And here, the man who says he’s “not really religious” teaches us something about the center of the universe and the fabric of the cosmos. Theologically speaking, the heavens are neither geocentric, nor even heliocentric, but Christocentric. It is the cross and the crucified and risen Jesus who has the whole world, and each of us, in his nail scarred hands (Heb. 1:1-3).
This, too, is otherworldly. And yet for our sakes, the otherworldly Son of God chose to splashdown into this world in the womb of a Virgin. For Jesus, the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. It is the true and greatest story of all which takes place, not in a galaxy far, far away, but to this world. Where the Creator became a creature. Where the otherworldly Son of God came into his world. Where eternal Word was made flesh. Where the God who said let there be lights in the heavens, also came down from heaven and cried out in the utter darkness of Good Friday, “It is finished.” As my good friend Chad Bird says, “that’s one small step for God, one giant leap for mankind.”
Jesus came to this darkened world, hell bent inwards on itself, to rescue, deliver, and make all things new. He set forth on a voyage of victory over death and sin and the ancient dragon for you. Through the cross, he accomplished his mission of mercy and grace for you. From his promise to Abraham to number the stars, to the rising of his star for the wise men in the East, Jesus’ trajectory was always his cross and resurrection. He came down to boldly go where no man has gone before: into the final frontier of death and the grave and out alive again to save us all. When we look in the night sky, let our imagination awaken, and our mouths open in awe, wonder, and hymns of praise to the Creator of the stars of night, who came to rescue astronauts and sinners out of the silent planet and into the new creation.
O God, who revealed your Only Begotten Son to the nations by the guidance of a star, grant in your mercy, that we, who know you already by faith, may be brought to behold the beauty of your sublime glory. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever.
