The worst thing about technology is not that it has made the world seem small, but that it has made us seem small.
In our upstairs closet is a beat up violin that was once played by my great-grandfather. My grandmother spoke fondly of sitting on the porch, listening to her dad fill the evening air with music.
Today, the old violin gathers dust. Why would I screech out some mangled melody when with the touch of a button I can have Itzhak Perlman and the New York Philharmonic in my ear?
Why play football when I can watch the 49ers? Why write a book when I can download Dostoevsky? Why paint a portrait when I can Google Rembrandt? All that is left for me to do is to sit on the couch and admire the superstars.
When we look at the night sky, our eyes are drawn to the brightest stars: The Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, Cassiopeia. What if the not-so-brilliant stars grew tired of playing second fiddle and went out? What a bleak universe it would be if the starry host was reduced to a few bright lights you could count on your finger and toes.
Actually, the brightest stars to the human eye are not the brightest at all. They just seem that way because they are close to us. The human perspective is just one narrow way of looking at things.
God is not bound by limited perspective. He sees everything from every angle. This makes for a lot of surprises. The widow donating a penny gives more than all the wealthy people. The prostitute at Jesus’ feet is holier than the Pharisee. The thief on a cross is a beloved Son.
We will never light up this dark world until we step out of the ghastly pall of human limelight into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.