A local pastor recently attempted an essentially simple metaphor during one of his sermons. In the midst of passionately declaring to his congregation that "God is light and in Him there is no darkness at all" he tied on the fact that nothing can grow or flourish in the darkness. He brandished his metaphor with florid verbs and flourished his adjectives for dramatic affect. He announced that we only see one half of our moon; the half which is consistently illuminated by the light of the sun. The other half, the half facing away from the earth, is always in perpetual darkness (the dark side of the moon for those Pink Floyd fans out there). It was then, with an air of self-appreciated brilliance, that he exclaimed that on this "dark side" of the moon, there was no life. There were no vineyards, there were no gardens or palm trees, there were no rolling hills or trickling streams. All that existed was darkness; nothing could grow on the dark side of the moon.
Then again, nothing can grow on the light side either. Oops.
That's the thing about the moon and outer space; things just don't grow there. Sure, you Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek junkies might dispute this, but last time I checked Mars was still desolate, Venus a foaming fireball of gas, and Pluto a cosmic ice chunk. Outer space is a very inhospitable place, regardless of light.
It's this inhospitality towards life in general which has always left me with a subtle fear of outer space. Whenever movies like Apollo 13 grace the television screen once every couple years I can't help but marvel at how only a thin layer of titanium allow and heat paneling separates the astronaut from certain peril. Even more so, I admire those brave individuals, who with roborant daring venture outside the ship into the chaotic unknown, tied to the ship by a mere cable. One snap, one cascading piece of space trash, one misguided movement and you're walking Spanish, pushing daisies, slowly suffocating towards a cold and lonely demise.
Space is a cold place; a frigid nothingness whose as tender as a cactus, as cuddly as a crocodile, and as nurturing and cordial as a pack of coyotes is for a wounded deer. It is a place of such desolate solitude and utter lifelessness that even the energy and warmth of the sun can't change its fruitless essence Nothing grows on the moon, and for good reason at that.
Light means very little in a world where nothing could grow to begin with. How lucky we are to live on this green, lush planet, a fertile cradle teeming forth with life both big and small. How jaw-dropping the intricate beauties, the incomprehensible wonders, the majesty and sheer art gracing each crevice and nook, every crag and peak, the very depths of the ocean and the vast grandeur of the burgeoning forest. The warmth of the sun, the complexity of our atmosphere, the invaluable properties of the water which composes our oceans, lakes, and rivers; how hospitable a rock we live on!
How hospitable a God we have. Oft we forget, oft we drift on glued intently on our individual lives without the slightest whim of the ground we tread upon, the sky we bask under, or the sheer mass of living things abundantly gracing our surroundings. In Genesis, God created and it was good, in the Psalms we hear extolling praise for the wonders, and in Christ we see just how far-extending and passionate the Creator's love truly is for His creation.
It makes me wonder, in this benevolent light are we truly providing the atmosphere for that light truly create growth, to nurture those around us towards the revelation of Christ through the grace of God? Are we lush soil awaiting planting or are we solitary rocks, drifting through the frigid emptiness of space? Am I truly willing and able to be a catalyst for change in His kingdom or am I merely an empty space?
The moon is about as inhospitable place as you can find, but I'm pretty sure quite a few of us give it a run for its money. God's light is surely bright beyond comprehension, but we stubborn creatures can sure find new and imposing ways to cancel out the good news and suffocate it into a mere datum of niceness to others and a loose moralism. How many of us have hindered the light of God in the life of others with our stifling and smothering? How many of our actions have all but crippled the work of God in even the most minute and insignificant acts?
Some scientists have said that someday we might live on the moon. That's a scary thought, though intriguing. Could such a inanimate satellite really support life? If so, maybe there's even hope for us. Maybe the light of Christ may even be able to crack through the asphyxiating shells of our individuality and touch the very depths of our person hood. Perhaps even our deepest wounds and hurts are reachable. The only way we will ever know is to take that leap of faith, to venture outside the safety of galactic ships and seek the light, to trust that the nurturing of the Holy Spirit can overcome even the most stubborn of hearts.
In the meanwhile, I think I'll keep my feet on this good, green earth and let those folks down at NASA take care of the outer space stuff.
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