The Gift of the Stars

“I set every star into place so you would remember my name. I made it all for you.”

Starry Sky above Grand Teton National Park, ©2024 Richard Seiling

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Have the stars ever transformed your perspective?

When I was ten years old, I remember sitting on the deck of my uncle’s home in rural New York and looking up at the night sky. There were so many stars, and they all had differing levels of brightness and dimension. They each seemed to have their own story, their own personality. Before that night, I had no clue the stars were this profound because the streetlights in Ohio muted their presence. What else existed that I could not see?

When Rich and I moved to Yosemite National Park in 1995, we knew we would be immersed in the beauty of the granite walls, waterfalls, and giant Sequoias. But one of the greatest surprises was the brilliance of the nighttime sky. I learned the names of constellations and noticed how some are only visible in winter or summer, while others can be seen year-round. I remember talking to a tourist from Australia who commented on how the stars were all different in North America. I had never considered how the Northern and Southern Hemispheres offered different views into the universe.

On the night of 9/11, when all the airplanes were grounded, Rich and I sat on our back porch with our friends. We talked about the events of the day and gazed up at the sky, remarking on how the airplanes’ absence changed the sky’s character. Instead of hearing the hum of the jets and the flashing lights of the planes, we were left with the same stars people had looked to throughout the existence of humanity, pondering their next steps and wondering what the future held.

In 2014, we moved to a house on the top of a mountain ridge, and the view of the stars from our deck was magnificent. During meteor showers, we would stretch sleeping bags out and lay outside with our kids, marveling at the shooting stars, the satellites, the planets, and how some stars even twinkled with color.

In 2017, when we moved to Middle Tennessee, one of the first things our daughter asked was, “Where are all the stars?” We explained to her that there are far more lights in the Nashville Metropolitan area than there were in the mountains—and all those lights overpower the stars. It felt like a true loss for our entire family. Not only did we miss the mountains and our friends, but we also missed our starry skies.

This year brought the unexpected gift of seeing the Northern Lights in Tennessee. They were so bright we could see them beyond the bright streetlights in our neighborhood. We piled into our car and drove to a state park to see if the absence of city lights made them more vibrant. While we didn’t see the auroras there, we did discover an old friend: the nighttime sky. It had been years since we’d stretched out, side-by-side, as family, to look at the stars. The crickets chirped. The dew rose from the grasses, and the vastness of the evening sky stretched above our eyes.

In October, we saw the auroras again during a trip to Mammoth Caves National Park in Kentucky. Rich set up his camera, and my son and I stretched out on a blanket, next to his tripod, enjoying another evening under a magnificent nighttime sky.

A week before our trip to Kentucky, Rich took the enclosed photograph while he was teaching a workshop in Grand Teton National Park. I love how it captures the sweeping vista of the Milky Way and the sense of the eternal and infinite. I also marvel at how cameras can record far more than our eyes can see. There is truly so much more to life than what we can perceive with our five senses.

In their song, “Dancing on the Waves,” We The Kingdom wrote, “I set every star into place so you would remember my name. I made it all for you.” I love these simple lyrics because they resonate with truth. Every time I see the night star, I see evidence of God’s grace. I experience the reality of His peace and His presence. I remember He is the One who created it; He is the One who holds it in place; and He knows all the stars by name.

Two thousand years ago, God announced the arrival of Jesus to shepherds in the fields under a nighttime sky (Luke 2). He put a specific star in the sky to lead the wise men to Jerusalem to meet baby Jesus (Matthew 2).

The same God who created such intricate beauty—with details beyond what we could ever see or perceive (scientists are constantly rewriting theories and discovering more)—also made me and you. If he knows all the stars by name, he knows the intricate details of our lives, too.

My prayer—this Christmastime and always—is that when you see the nighttime sky and the beauty of God’s creation, you see evidence of God’s love, His precision, and His care for all He created—especially you and your loved ones.