A Dusting of Stargazing

I'm a bit late for All Saints' Day, but I had been thinking on this earlier and thought it fit well. Evolutionary theory says that we are stardust- that we are literally made of the atoms of exploding stars through the Big Bang and evolution. I've seen this explained in movies where it's made to sound all cosmic and romantic because the sense of eternity that we associate with stars, which can last for so many ages. It's like a touch of The Divine, you could say. And The Bible says that's halfway right. The Divine has made us with eternity in our hearts. (Ecclesiastes 3:11) We are made to be eternal beings. We are made of dust alright- but it's dust from the ground, not the stars. (Genesis 2 explains that God made Adam from the dust of the ground and then made Eve from one of his ribs.) The Bible mentions this a couple of times. Psalms 103:14, in detailing the depth of God's compassion, explains that He remembers how we are formed, that we are but dust. From ashes to ashes and from dust to dust- we are made from the dust and to the dust we will return. (Genesis 3:19 and Ecclesiastes 3:20)
Another passage talks about this, but I think it's one that gets buried in the midst of a super famous chapter about the Resurrection of Jesus and the resurrection of the dead.

1 Corinthians 15:35-49
English Standard Version (ESV)

The Resurrection Body
35 But someone will ask, “How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?” 36 You foolish person! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. 37 And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. 38 But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body. 39 For not all flesh is the same, but there is one kind for humans, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish. 40 There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another. 41 There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory.

42 So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. 43 It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. 44 It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. 45 Thus it is written, “The first man Adam became a living being”;[a] the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. 46 But it is not the spiritual that is first but the natural, and then the spiritual. 47 The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. 48 As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. 49 Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall[b] also bear the image of the man of heaven.

The evolutionary theory ascribes a divine composition to our bodies without acknowledging The Divine Being Who "infused us with holy". (To briefly quote Chris Rice's "The Final Move") It is true in that sense that we are made of the Bright Morning Star of Heaven (Revelation 22:16). He made us in His image. He is the only reason we can take wonder at our bodies and our creation. The glory is reflected in us the created but it reflects back to The Creator! When we marvel at the beauty of the moon's shimmering brightness at night, in one sense we are marveling at the moon, but ultimately we're marveling at the source of the moon's light- the sun. In the same way, when we marvel at humanity because we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Psalms 139:13-14), we are really marvelling at the source of our wonderfully made bodies- The Son.
Psalms 8 asks God, "What is man that You care for him?" We are but dust, yet God made us a little lower than the angels. In our search for wonder and meaning in that wonder, we must wonder as we wander about the wonder around us and within us and it should lead us to the One Whose Name is Wonderful Counselor and Mighty God.
And when we realize we are not as strong as we think we are (that's a Rich Mullins reference), we can acknowledge our need for The God Who created the cosmos and everything in it. He's the only One Who can bring new life to dying stars and planets. He Himself came from Heaven to die to pay for all sins. And because the Eternal One of Heaven rose, we know we will also rise in Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:14) Our faith in Him assures us of our place with Him. And then we become complete in Him- our frail forms of dust from the ground are transformed into Morning Stardust instead as we take our place beside The Ancient of Days in the heavens- in Heaven- forever. :-)
Praise God for His amazing love that fills us with wonder every time. Romans 5:8 is forever wondrous to me- Jesus, You are the Wonder and Mystery I seek to behold. May I ever be captivated by Your awesomeness too great for words.

Why not? (poem)

To the brothers and sisters of the Dispersion in the time of their exile....

"I will sing His song in the land of my sojourn....."- Rich Mullins

"So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through His own blood. Therefore let us go to Him outside the camp and bear the reproach He endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come. Though Him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge His Name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." (Hebrews 13:12-16)


Why not?
(copyright by Nathan Ludwick 1/16/2017)
(Job 38-40, Hebrews 11-12, Psalms 73, 84 and 137, the book of Ecclesiastes, Romans 8, 1 Peter 1:17-19, Matthew 13, Psalms 119:19, Hebrews 13:10-16, Revelation 21:5, Revelation 21-22)

Why shouldn't I expect suffering in the world?
What makes me special and exempt?
Why do I expect perfection in a quite imperfect world?
Sometimes I feel so restless- I can't sit down or stand up or lie down
I've got to run around or I'll explode...
Restless legs and a reckless heart
Are a wanderer's trademark
Not all who wander are lost,
but not all who are lost wonder while they wander.
Some trade priceless treasure for their precious things
Some pierce themselves with many griefs in search of so many schemes.
The wind flitters and floats this way and that
We think we're walking on air as we strive and strain for it
But even on Cloud 9, it's still just beyond our grasp
If we ever caught it, we'd find that it's just empty air
Just like the pinnacle of our lives' pursuits have only an empty heir
Vanity, vanity- everything is vanity!
If a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions,
Why do we strive after wind and wind up reaping the whirlwind?
If anything, we should labor like Ruth in the Kinsman-Redeemer's harvest
So that our thorny soil might get pruned and yet bear fruit
Fruit that The Lord of the Harvest can use to sow what He reaps
But rather than grow spiritual cucumbers, the cares of this life
Keep us encumbered instead.
We want our best life now on our terms rather than waiting
for the coming glory.
Why do I want this world to be perfect when I have a perfect one waiting?
Now is the winter of our discontent and rather than bury it in the snow
we must embrace it.
Hug tight all the scars and bruises of this world and flick off
all our rotting bandages.
There's only One who holds all things together and He's still got
the whole world in His hands.
And while we look forward to standing with Him in Heaven
First we must stand with Him in Gethsemane.
Let us weep with Him who weeps rather than just fall asleep.
In our struggles with sin, we haven't yet resisted to the
point of shedding our blood- but He did.
The Father poured the cup of His wrath on His Son
And the blood-stained cross speaks a better word than the blood of Abel or any of us.
Yes, by faith we share His glory in the Resurrection, but first we bear His reproach.
As Moses left Egypt's palace and chose to suffer alongside his people,
So Christ left Heaven's throne and chose to suffer alongside His people.
Thou didst leave Thy throne, O Lord- help me to leave my throne as well.
Like captives in Babylon, we are exiles on this planet- wanderers
looking for a new city- a real home.
May the restlessness in our hearts keep us from ever being
content with poor substitutes on earth.
We're all panning for gold in life, but let us pan the fool's gold that abounds.
Let's sell it all to buy the field and get the real gold treasure we've found.
He is the abundant life that flows in us and reminds us of what
this world was made to be before sin's catastrophe.
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
We all live in our present suffering, but we dream of the restoration coming.
And while we live so that His love might leave others with
the mark of the Divine that points us all back to Christ,
may we all solider on, steady further up and further in-
aliens and strangers on the road that's straight and narrow, all the way to Him!
We must solider on in the land of our sojourn
and fight the good fight, knowing that He's already won the battle.
Even amidst all our struggles and sorrows, we know
The Man of Sorrows knows and feels every one and helps us through them
And one day He will take all those old battle scars and
give them a full healing through and through when He makes all things new!

Some Are (story)

* I wrote this in response to a prompt for a writing contest.... (that I didn't actually enter, but I thought someone might enjoy reading this anyway. :-))



Some Are

               A somber silence settled on the school room as the bell chimed the students’ dreaded death knell. It was now 8 AM on another Monday morning and the fall term had begun. As the teacher began writing the first assignment on the board, the children stared in numb shock and listlessness. Once the ominous omen had been read, the odiferous pungency of its directives consumed the olfactory senses of the slaves now firmly refastened to their stocks for another grueling seven hours of torture. A collective groan escaped from the lungs now tainted with the putrid air of forced education. Yet amidst the gasps of horror and despair, on the back row of the Coliseum of death, two small grins emerged.
                It had been a wide open world of wonder at first in the golden days. The sweet release of freedom rang loudly in the air with the rush of a thousand voices singing with glee. This is what real living was meant to be- a walk in the park or a day on the beach with none, no-never, nary a care. The possibilities were endless and so were the days it seemed. Oh, the expeditions to be mounted- the explorations to be endeavored! The pursuits of a myriad of activities lay stretched before all the willing participants of the intoxicating allure of such holiday pleasures. Time was a loyal and trusted ally then.
                Somewhere between the fanciful flights of the crimson marred streaks of light and the subtle creeping of the nomenclature of learning’s renewed siren call, a change came over the terrestrial ball and its congregants. It came with its share of hints- a rustle in the breeze, a purple haze at close of days and a baleful rooster’s crow in the morning. Somehow the signs were missed by many and the adrenaline rush drenched the world with energy but not perspicacity. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” came the old refrain from which many did indeed refrain. The days left unseized by unseasoned had been seized by another.
                Then it was that distant doldrums came, beating out their rhythm of quiet despair and gathering gloom. Whence came the mourning mist that envelopes everyone everywhere in the midst of halcyon heights marked by a barefoot blazed trail? The gleam of gold wanes as a maze of gazes questions the questions in the malaise that travails upon their travels. Oh, the eternal paradox of the vernal equinox! All the time in the world available for the asking but nothing to do in the days passing! The strawberry fields are ripe for but a short stretch of Father Time’s arms. The fields are plentiful in harvest, but those who would be workers work hard in flittering frivolous pursuits.
                So the story begins as it ends. No matter how tenuous its hold amid enchantments of warm star-lit nights, the clarion call rings true in the end with the experiment house in session once again. Oh, the cruel tests of inhumanity to be wrought upon an unsuspecting class of young pupils- it’s too much for the eyes to take in. Look and see, hear and be amazed! Yonder light still shines from golden shores in those who boldly face the entrenching entrapment with a lion’s roar. No vanity in the lion’s pride, but an informed hope that spans the ages enraptures each soul with an unthinkable delight. Through conniptions aroused at the cavalcade of crosses and bars set forth from the teacher, the cavalcade becomes the calvary that keeps the summer sun rays glowing with the joyous thought of the glory coming.