by Liz Mannegren - May 8, 2019
If the Stars Were Made to Worship So Will I
It was mid-February and I stood on a frozen lake, staring up at the brilliance of a night sky.
Away from the city and its light pollution, the stars seemed bigger and bolder than anything I had ever seen before. The ice was thick but I could hear its deep rumbling far below the surface. It cracked and groaned with surprising volume and my feet shook inside their fur-lined boots. I had never walked across a frozen lake before and I craved the security of solid ground. And yet, I couldn’t seem to move. I stood still and breathed deep, soaking up that moment of beauty – my fears paling in comparison to the majesty before me.
All of creation seemed to be crying out and my soul had no choice but to join in with the choir of the created.
I heard its praise in the thudding of deep water chunks of ice beneath my feet. I saw the reflection of God’s glory in the stars that burn light-years away, shimmering and dancing in indescribable delight. I felt the praise of the earth rise up to meet my own swelling heart.
Surrounded by the beauty of nature, God called me to worship.
Praise Him, sun and moon;
praise him, all you shining stars.
Praise him, you highest heavens
and you waters above the skies.
Let them praise the name of the Lord,
for at his command they were created,
and he established them for ever and ever—
he issued a decree that will never pass away.
I wish this posture of worship was my daily instinct.
All too often, I get caught up in the hectic schedules of 21st century life. It piles up, crowding my day planner with appointments and social events, swimming lessons and playgroups, reminders for spring cleaning and notes about meal prep. Chipping away at my time and energy reserves, I hurry from one moment to the next, forgetting to pause and re-direct my eyes upward.
We’re called to live a life of constant prayer and worship – a life that glorifies God in all we do.
And I need these reminders.
Spring flowers burst into bloom, pushing their heads up through soft soil, reminding me of life abundant. A puff of wind rustles through the pine boughs, fresh and cool against my face, reminding me of the freedom found in Christ. The nightingale outside my window sings its bedtime song, a reminder to rest in Him. Here is creation’s call to glorify.
I don’t always see it but when I do, the simultaneous majesty and simplicity of nature can stop me in my tracks and bring me to my knees in praise. In all that I do, I pray that this attitude of worship permeates and soaks deep within.
For if even the stars were created to praise, then so will I.
And long after we are gone, His creation will still sing on.
Liz lives in Vancouver, Canada with her husband and two littles. She is the mother of seven beautiful babies: carrying two in her arms but an extra five in her heart. In her spare time, you’ll most likely find her curled up on the couch reading books and sipping a frozen, sugary drink. For more stories on faith, motherhood, and loss, you can find her at mommymannegren.com