Me, A Shooting Star?

Just the other day I was in a conversation where the phrase: “God moves in mysterious ways,” was used and not one of us considered it more than a yawn in our thinking as immediately we went on with our nonchalant subject of the local planetarium’s production of the Star of Bethlehem.  Then in my time of reflection the next morning it occurred to me that “God moves in mysterious ways,” has become such a hackneyed cliché that it produces nothing more than a hint of endorsement at times for me.  I thought, as with other such simple truths, it is worthwhile to examine the weight of evidence that gave rise to the maxim in the first place. And the Christmas event gives me the best opportunity to do so, not only due to the humble circumstances surrounding the birth of Mary's child but also in light of the roles played by the cast of characters in the story. Like shooting stars, many of the characters enter and leave the stage without much fanfare, shining their lights for brief moments before fizzling out of the scene.

Take, for instance, John the Baptist. From his miraculous conception to his father's nine-month muteness, the Scriptures leave no doubt that he was a unique child. All who knew about him could not wait to see what he would become (Luke 1:66). Jesus would say later that John was greater than any prophet who had existed up to that point. But John's role in the life of Jesus lay many years in the future, with the intervening period being largely uneventful. Like the persons who have introduced me as a speaker at a conference or guest minister in a pulpit, the whole purpose of his existence was reduced to the occasion of announcing the arrival of the long-awaited Messiah. Like a shooting star, John's light fizzled out when the Messiah entered the scene. I think it curious how a carousing band of petty potentates succeeded in ending John's life in such seemingly tragic and frivolous circumstances while the King of Kings walked about the same neighborhood?

Well, they may have succeeded in ending his life, but they never defeated his purpose. John had already calmly reassured his disciples that it was alright to take down the props. His job was done, his joy was complete, and he was prepared to become less so that the Messiah could become greater. John 3:27-30  Unlike a permanent star planted in the sky as part of the very fabric of the universe, John's role on the stage was quite short-lived, though he still carried it out in style—both in dress and diet. 

Another such character was Simeon to whom God had given the promise that he would live to see the birth of the Lord's Christ. Taking the child in his arms, Simeon could not help but offer praise to the director of the entire production for dismissing him in peace. I also think of Anna, an eighty-four year-old woman who had prayed and fasted in the temple ever since her seven-year marriage came to an end with the death of her husband. She too had a role to play in the drama of the birth of Jesus: her shining moment was the solitary event of holding Baby Jesus in her arms and saying something about him!

I recognize that by focusing my attention on seemingly menial tasks performed by people whose lives were otherwise mundane and uneventful, the stories of the church conspires to teach me that though the world is indeed a stage on which human beings make their entrances and exits, as Shakespeare claimed, God takes special interest in the every role. The sheer number of names in the very pages of the Bible and the countless ordinary, unnamed individuals through whom God has accomplished his purposes in the world testify to that. And though my role at seventy may not seem as glamorous as the roles played by others, it is an indispensable piece of the larger puzzle in the mind of God. The hymn, God Moves in Mysterious Ways, contains a warning that is really my worth heeding, especially in light of the apprehensive mood in which I enter these next few day of the Christmas season and the coming New Year:

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

And, by the way, Bill, one more thing! And don’t ever forget it!" Shooting stars" are not stars at all. They are broken pieces of rock or metal that burn up once they come into contact with the earth's atmosphere, eventually landing upon the earth as dust. Just like the moon, the light they reflect is not their own, but unlike the moon, they are used up in the process of lighting up the sky. What a fitting metaphor for the myriad of individuals, like John the Baptist, Simeon, Anna, and countless others throughout history, who have been content to be used up for the sake of the Kingdom of God! Of such the world is not worthy. Even though they do return to the earth as dust, the earth itself will eventually have to give up even their bodies, for the Babe of Bethlehem clothed himself with dust so that the person of dust may be eternally clothed with glory. Merry Christmas!