St. Timothy Lutheran Church

I'm an astronomy geek.  No really - I actually subscribe to Sky & Telescope magazine, wrote a letter to the editor (which was published), own a telescope, read Spaceweather.com on a daily basis, and think a book on astronomy is an interesting read.  If I had money to burn, I'd buy a bigger telescope. 

I make an effort to go outside to watch the annual meteor showers.  One of the most active meteor showers, the Perseids, was scheduled to peak this year during the wee morning hours of August the 13th - that's this morning.  The Perseids are always supposed to put on a good show, and this year was expected to be better than usual.  So, about 2:00 this morning, I climbed out of bed, hopped in my car and headed out to the boonies to get away from the lights of suburbia. 

It was incredible.   I saw absolutely no meteors.  Not a sausage.  This from a meteor shower that can at times bring more then 60 meteors per hour.  Heck, I went outside two nights ago and stood in the front yard while I brushed my teeth and saw two meteors, and they weren't even officially Perseid meteors, and in the front yard, I can only see a tiny patch of open sky framed by the multitude of large trees in our neighborhood.  Last night, I was sitting on the edge of a large open field and saw nothing.

That was frustrating.  I drove home thinking "I deprived myself of sleep for this??"  I even felt a little angry at the Perseids for not doing what they were morally obligated to do. 

As I drove, I remembered other times when I was driving around and just happened to be looking at the right place in the sky just as a random fireball of a meteor happened to fall.  Lots of times when I'm outside stargazing, I'll happen to see a meteor cross the sky right in front of me.  But sometimes I'll only see a flash of light in the corner of my eye and not be certain that it wasn't my imagination.

One night, years ago, I was outside with my brother, and we were watching for meteors, leaning back against the car.  My neck was hurting a little so I leaned forward to stretch it for a second.  As I did, the ground lit up suddenly, as though lightning had struck, and I heard my brother shout "Wow!!"  Alas, I had missed it.

I should confess that I didn't wait very long out in the field last night.  I was there probably 10 or 15 minutes, but I was tired, and felt like I should have seen a meteor every minute or so.  I was short on patience, so when none were forthcoming, I quickly gave up and drove home.

Somewhere along the drive home, I began to realize how many great parllels there are between my experiences with meteors and my experience with God.  I thought about how often I ask Him to put on a show for me and then get frustrated when He doesn't come through.  Usually, on the surface, I'm asking God for something that I really do feel that I need, but behind the request is a desire for God to do things my way and in my time.  I don't just want the need met - I also want to be impressed by Him.  When He chooses another way, I doubt the words of Paslm 103, which tell us that God loves us and has compassion on us, because he knows that we are frail, that we are dust.

I don't like having to wait for Him, even though waiting hopefully for God is a common theme throughout the Bible.  Because of my propensity to want to micromanage God, or to expect Him to wow me with His nifty special effects, I can miss out on the things He is doing all around me, because I'm not looking for them.  I miss out on knowing not just what He can do, but on knowing Him.  I hate it when people ask me to put on a show, to perform whatever stupid human trick I can do.  I am so much more than just what I can do.  Isn't this so much more true for God?

There's another potential meteor shower coming up on September the 1st, but astonomers aren't sure what to expect from this one.  Still, I'll probably find myself climbing out of bed again around 2:00 that morning.  If you want to join me, let me know.  It would be great to go out and watch the sky together, and see what happens.  Meteors are unpredictable.  Sometimes when you expect to be thrilled by a great show, you see precisely jack.  Sometimes you'll just see something out of the corner of your eye, or see the ground lit up by a huge fireball, and you'll wish you had been looking right at it when it fell.  Other times, you'll be wowed an unexpected gift of a brilliant meteor streaking across the sky leaving a sparkling trail right where you happened to be looking.

Whatever the case, on any clear night, if you have the patience to wait, you will see something.