In the inky blackness, looms a giant checkerboard of lights. It towers above the ants below as a monument to men who wish to scrape the sky. Lesser buildings surround it, their lights reflecting off the window glass in a kaleidoscope of shiny splendor. The uneven heights reach to the heavens, silhouetted by the lights from street lamps below. The roof of each building has its own landscape. Some are grand and highlighted with spotlights as if to say look at my elegance. Others are simple with flashing red beacons to ward off winged aircraft in the night.
In the distance, twinkling lights all shades of white sparkle like diamonds set against black velvet. Cars winding along highways move quickly at first then slow to a molasses pace as the day begins. The horizontal snake draws the eye among the vertical jungle of buildings. As far as the eye can see, all the way to the horizon, there are lights. The black sky is clear; there are no stars that I can see. The building beacons are the manmade stars that hide the real ones from view. Life is like that for us. Humans with places to go and be, we run and rush, in and out of each day. The natural stars are hidden, yet there is beauty in the glimmering, shimmering lights of the city.
I wonder what all those people are doing. There is great perspective from up here among the clouds. Each of our small problems seems so big when we do not rise above them. They take up our entire field of vision, not allowing us to see beyond them to the bigger picture. Looming 53 stories in the air, I think about how each tiny window contains a person just like me, people that have families, friends, and co-workers. There may be others visiting city for workshops or meetings as I am, sitting in hotel rooms next to mine. Others probably live here. Each tiny car has an individual in it with a story. Some are having a good day; others ride along with the weight of the world on their shoulders. From this viewpoint, it is impossible to tell one from another with the blur of the lights.
It is enough to make me wonder in awe at how God does it. How does he know each name, each hair on our heads? I do not know about you, but I am glad he is big enough to breathe the stars into existence and to care about my individual needs at the same time. He knows the story of every person in every window. His capacity for love is so deep that he cares intimately for each individual. He is not silenced by the man made glitter that tries to hide him, in fact he can easily top it. I see the heavens now, turning deep red in the distance. The black of night is fading into gray, then pale blue. Flamingo pink sky hovers over the bump on the horizon that I know to be the mountain of stone. Purple blended with the pink creates a blend of color that glows as the sun rises above the horizon. It is a spectacular dawning of a new day…and a new perspective.