We know that God is everywhere: but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky Way. Remembering what it was - what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light - I felt the might and strength of God.
- Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
Space is so majestic and incredible and utterly frightening in its magnitude. It's always reduced me to a state of awe. Luke and I have been watching the History Channel's show The Universe
via Netflix lately, and while it goes less in-depth (so far) than I'd like about some subjects, it does feed my fascination with the cosmos - and breaks my brain with the unfathomable comparisons it makes ("five trillion times bigger than x
"... oh yes, like I can picture that). The question of size - the way we are reduced to almost nothing by the scale of everything else - is a dilemma that instantly brings to mind Madeleine L'Engle's A Wind in the Door
: an eerily compelling argument (though it be fiction) for the human being as a galaxy unto itself.
I am always doing my best to see through other people's eyes and understand where they're coming from, but to be honest, the one thing I truly can't fathom is how people can look at the universe with all its inscrutable beauty and power and not see God. Romans 1:20 rings true with force.