Looking Into the Dark

In 1995, astronomer Robert Williams made a decision that his colleagues thought was reckless. As director of the Space Telescope Science Institute, he pointed the Hubble telescope at a tiny patch of sky near the Big Dipper — a spot that appeared completely empty to every instrument on Earth. He committed ten consecutive days of precious telescope time to staring at what looked like nothing.

The results silenced every critic. That blank spot of sky — no bigger than a grain of sand held at arm's length — contained over three thousand galaxies. Not stars. Galaxies. Each one holding billions of stars of their own. What looked like emptiness was teeming with more light than anyone had imagined.

Faith works like this. The writer of Hebrews calls it "the evidence of things not seen." There are seasons when we aim the full weight of our trust at what appears to be darkness — a diagnosis with no clear prognosis, a marriage that feels hollow, a prayer that seems to dissolve into silence. Everything visible says there is nothing there.

But the God who scattered ten thousand galaxies in a single grain of sky is not limited by what our eyes can measure. He is El Roi, the God Who Sees, and He has filled the dark places with more than we have instruments to detect.

When you are asked to trust what you cannot yet see, remember Williams and his telescope. The emptiness is not empty. You are simply looking at something too magnificent for the naked eye.