The Stars at Night
By Grant Gaines
A few years ago I traveled all across Switzerland and Italy for two weeks with several friends. We started our journey in northern Switzerland early in January and eventually worked our way down to Rome two weeks later. While we had so much fun at every stop, saw so many breathtaking views along the journey, and tasted some of the best Italian ever, the first night we arrived in Switzerland remains one of my favorite memories of the trip.
We landed in Switzerland early in the morning and wasted no time hopping on a train that took us to a popular ski location in the middle of the Alps. After dropping our stuff off at the hotel room we took a trolley to the base of the mountain and headed to the first ski shop we could find only to be stopped cold in our tracks at the high prices they were asking to rent skis and get a lift pass.
Fortunately for us, we had just graduated college so we put our “high-powered” brains together and after doing some asking around, we learned that if we waited until after the sun set we could get a drastically discounted lift ticket as well as a sled engineered specifically for the Alps’ treacherous terrain (meaning you could steer it) for pennies on the dollar. So what did we do? We did what any young, money-conscious bachelors would do and waited until the sun set, purchased our sleds, and took the ski lift to the top of the mountain.
We rode the lift with a big group of locals so we felt pretty good about staying with that group that we assumed would have a general knowledge of how to navigate the terrain. Unfortunately for us, the moment our feet hit the ground as we exited the lift, the locals hopped on their sleds and escaped into the darkness quicker than Santa Clause on Christmas Eve. To make matter worse, the “lighted ski runs” that we were told about didn’t quite live up to the advertisement as there was about three small lights that were as helpful as a single match in a vast cave that all within the first 100 yards of the run that stretched over two miles in length.
Nevertheless, we were just young and dumb enough to assume that we could find our way down the slope with no problem. But after struggling mightily to figure out the steering system during the first quarter mile, we quickly realized that we had gotten ourselves into more than we had bargained for. But there was no turning back at this point, the only way to safety was to keep on going down the mountain. So we decided that we should all stay close together so we could help each other out if (or maybe more accurately said, “when”) we fell.
The plan was going great for the next half mile but then the slope got steeper, the turns got tighter, and the distance between us grew larger. Eventually I looked up and there was no one in front of me and no one behind me. I was all alone. Just me, my sled, and a set of rapidly chattering teeth.
But I didn’t have the time to be afraid because as I slowly worked my way down the slope, all I could see was the vast array of brilliant stars that seemed to sit just beyond my grasp. They were bigger, brighter, and more beautiful than I had ever seen before!
After we eventually made it to the hotel and thawed out later that night we swapped stories about each of our experiences when we were separated from each other. But rather than recounting those moments as if they were a part of a horror story like it very easily could have been, each of my friends said the same thing I said – all I could think about was the stars.
The stars were always there but it wasn’t until we were away from the city and from other people that we actually noticed the vast array of stars.
Did you know that God will sometimes do the same to us? Sometimes He will drag us away from whatever “light pollution” we have in our lives (anything that might distract us) in order that we might be reminded of what true beauty, peace, and satisfaction is as we once again gaze wholeheartedly upon Him. This is exactly what the Lord did to the nation of Israel in the Old Testament when He said, “…I will lead [Israel] into the desert and speak tenderly to her there” (Hosea 2:14, NLT).
We tend to think of the desert as being the worst possible place God could bring us to. We complain because when we think of a desert, we think of a barren, isolated, and unpopulated wilderness. No one to talk to, no comforts to lean on, and no sight of help on the horizon.
And you know what? I believe that’s exactly what God wants us to think when we think of a desert – isolated away from normal life. But rather than viewing this as a negative, the way Hosea 2:14 describes it, a desert can often be the best possible place for us to be – away from all of the hustle and bustle of our normal daily activities in order that we can hear the Lord’s voice.
Can you hear the voice of the Lord while you’re in a busy or successful season of life? Sure you can. It’s just often more difficult to do because success rarely gives us time to reflect on our days which is often where the Lord reveals His thoughts and ways to us. On the other hand, when we’re in a desert there is nothing else to distract us from what God is saying to us just as there was nothing to distract me from the stars in all of their brilliance when I was away from all artificial lights in Switzerland. And just as the stars were always there, so is God’s voice-we just have to choose if we want to listen or not.
When you look at it that way, it’s a little bit easier to see the seasons we spend in a “desert” physically, financially, relationally, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually as a blessing from God rather than a curse. Because it’s when we allow the Lord to lead us away from whatever light pollution we have in our lives that we are finally able to truly see Jesus, “…the bright Morning star” (Revelation 22:16, NIV).
How do you view your time in the desert?
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©Grant Gaines 2013
