Pastor Tom Johnson, October 3, 2021
If the sun was the height of a grown person and was on the beach just past Du Sable Lake Shore Drive, the earth would be the size of a grape. 1.3 million grapes could fit in that 1.5 meter diameter beach ball. If I were to hand you a photograph of our solar system, you would see a point of light in the middle which would be our sun. The planets would be so tiny and dim that they would not even show up as a speck of light. It has taken 35 years for Voyager 1 to travel to the outer rim of our solar system. It is traveling at 38,000 miles per hour. If Voyager 1 would continue its journey to the nearest star, it would take 73,000 years to get there at that speed. If our solar system were the size of a quarter, the nearest other solar system would be two football fields away. To get a feel for the size of the milky way, which is our galaxy, it would be the width of the United States—about 2,500 miles—filled with between 100 and 400 billion stars or quarter sized solar systems. Astronomers tell us that there are 2 trillion observable galaxies in the universe—that is 2 million million. I hope you have had the opportunity to look up one night at a clear, moonless, unpolluted sky—and away from light-polluted civilization. You don’t need a telescope or any of this science to be overwhelmed by the Milky Way. Like the writer of Psalm 8, we look to the heavens, the moon, and the stars. We see the courses God has set them on. Such vastness and wonder makes us question our own sense of reality and significance. “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, O God? Why should you even care about our little lives?”
Swiss philosopher Alain de Botton says that such humility is good for our mental health. For thousands of years the night sky, mountains, canyons, oceans, prairies, lakes, forests, deserts, volcanoes, and glaciers gave us a sense of awe and finitude. This fear and respect for the natural world gave us a sublime sense of smallness. De Botton recommends that we regularly visit places that remind us of our smallness. He laments that we moderns have lost our connection to the natural world. “We are now in the era of the technological sublime,” he says, “when awe could most powerfully be invoked not by forests or icebergs but by supercomputers, rockets, and particle accelerators. We are now almost exclusively amazed by ourselves.” “Nature puts us all in our places,” he says. “Our egos…may even be relieved to find themselves finally humbled by forces so much more powerful than any human being could ever muster.”
The Psalmist’s ego is conquered by the night sky. The disciples’ ego is conquered by Jesus’ words naming the hard-heartedness of the people of God and his insistence on gathering and blessing the little one. Our callousness of heart leads to the erosion of marriage and bonds of love. It led to the disciples’ harshness toward those who wanted to bring their little ones to be blessed. Our scriptures today encourage us to be tenderhearted, humble, and embrace our smallness. This opens us up to receive God’s work in us. “Out of the mouths of infants and children your majesty is praised above the heavens.” “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” We do not become little children. That is who we are—whether we admit it or not. It may help for us to stand at the precipice of a mile deep canyon or drive a few hours away from light pollution to see the milky way. The most awe-inspiring thing we can witness is the vast love Jesus has for little children. This is what Paul prays for us in Ephesians chapter 3 [vv. 18-19], “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”
We will have no room in our hearts for wonder for God if we are full of our own self-importance. We will not understand the grace of God which is undeserved and cannot be earned if we think God is impressed by us. No, it is only through tender-heartedness and childlikeness that we are gathered into the arms of Christ for his blessing. It’s why little children were not forgotten on the day of Pentecost—the birthday of the Church and first Christian sermon. Peter said, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children” (Acts 2:38-39). Infant baptism epitomizes how God works through the Word, water, and Holy Spirit. Babies come to the font helpless and needy—with nothing to offer but their tender-hearted and vulnerable selves. And that is how we all come: as God’s children.
Years ago I was officiating the baptism of an infant child. The older brother who was about three years old kept mispronouncing the word baptism. He kept calling it BATH-tism. “Out of the mouths of babes…God has ordained strength.” The family, the congregation, and I all learned that day. He increased our joy. It was another reminder that we as a community need to listen and pay attention to the little, tender-hearted ones. As the prophet says, “A little child shall lead them” (Isa 11:6). Even the eternal Son of God did not come to us in great glory the first time around but as an infant child, wrapped in swaddling cloths in a manger, under a night sky and wondrous star. Out of the mouth of this babe comes the assurance we are accepted, the forgiveness of all our sins, and secure love in his eternal arms.
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