One Small Step

One Small Step

Isaiah 64:1

Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at your presence.

 

The more scientists pour resources into engineering spacecraft and satellite technologies, the more our understanding of the universe’s vastness widens. But while I do find it interesting to learn of galaxies far, far away, and of suns a hundred times bigger than ours, and of planets with multiple moons, Isaiah’s little wind of cosmic vision here far supersedes all that. Effectively, he doesn’t look up to the skies and see a vast chasm of light and dark; he sees a paper-thin vail between God and himself. It’s an elaborate vail, yes, and full of shimmering wonders, but it’s nowhere near as magnificent as the Face behind it: in fact, it’s almost in the way. So, for him, reaching the moon is no giant leap; spanning the Milky Way is far too small a step. If he could, he’d just rip the whole tapestry down from corner to corner, as if it’s a painting on the ceiling of his prison-cell, to catch a glimpse of God’s undiluted glory.  

 

Friend, may we share Isaiah’s fervency today in our own pursuit of God, as we gaze beyond the fading lights of the temporary into the heart of the eternal.