Several years ago I went to see a planetarium show in Bradenton, Florida.

The most impressive part of it was a segment narrated by Tom Hanks that graphically depicted the size of the known universe. He started with the Solar System and, as he spoke, our point of view kept zooming out from the “local” star system, to the Milky Way, then to our “local” galaxy, and so on until we were looking at clusters of galaxies, each one containing perhaps hundreds of millions of stars. He also told us about the literally “astronomical distances” involved as we kept seeing larger and larger parts of the universe, distances that are virtually impossible for a human being to contemplate.  

At the end of the program the planet Earth had become so infinitesimal in terms of size comparison that it almost seemed to cease to exist. At the end I was left to try to ponder both the fact that God created every last corner of the universe and that He, in fact lives beyond it (in the sense it is somehow contained within His eternal and infinite nature.)

To say the whole thing boggled my mind is a bit of an understatement.

When trying to think about writing on the subject of the Son of God’s Advent here on earth that planetarium experience was the first thing which came to my consciousness, that the God of the universe shown in the show became a man who lived out his human life on a seemingly insignificant planet, orbiting a third-rate star, in an average galaxy among untold numbers of them.

That hugely stretches both my mind and my heart. The question is obvious: why? Why was such an unthinkable descent willed by a Being for Whom distances of millions of light-years barely cover just the beginning of the creation over which He reigns and reigns absolutely.

The answer? Apparently to save the seemingly insignificant “crown” of His creation, humankind, who He chose to create to live at least initially on that average planet orbiting that third-rate star. In the boundless mystery of His grace and love we apparently both were and are worth the effort.

Maybe we should all try to think about that mind and heart-boggling paradox a bit this Advent season. It may give Christmas a bit more meaning for you and me than this world and, sadly, even we Christ-followers, usually assign to it.