We are in the midst of the Artemis II mission, and I’m full of fascination. Thinking of 4 of our human family hurtling through space to slingshot around the moon and come back home makes me quite emotional. I’ve been following along the journey, and hearing the astronaut’s thoughts and insights as they are so far form Earth is a formidable memory for me. Yesterday was Easter, and one of the astronauts shared his feelings about looking back at Earth from a distance. He talked about how this perspective has shaped how he views our experience here, that we are in it together, that we are unique and special as we are on a glowing orb of life in the middle of a vast and inhospitable universe. He shared how he feels certain that God created this oasis for us to work out our lives and give us experience, to learn to work together and to love one another. It really struck me to hear him say these things while looking out a spaceship window, down at our beautiful home.
Something I’ve learned by looking at different visual models of their journey is that they are not flying directly toward the moon. Since we often observe the moon as a fixed place in the night sky over our heads, we might mistakenly think that it is standing still. But it is in orbit around Earth. When the Artemis II rocket blasted off into space it was flying quite literally into empty space. The moon has been orbiting Earth all the time, and the spaceship has been flying toward a dark point in space where it will intercept with the moon at just the right time in order to be pulled into the moon’s gravity and to slingshot back to Earth again. What a feat of science to be able to predict the correct trajectory for the spacecraft to intercept the orbiting moon as it grazes the Artemis II’s path through space. And what faith the astronauts must have to trust that this will bring them home. They are flying into the darkness, trusting that they will intercept the moon’s orbit, the object of their journey.
Life is like that. Right now I feel like I’m walking through a tunnel that has a bend in it, so I can’t see the light at the other end. Do I stop, do I go back, or do I go forward in the dark? Do I trust that the light will be there waiting to intercept my path? That I won’t be truly alone, that I won’t be lost? I have to believe. What a gift it is to believe, to trust, to have faith. I believe. I trust in God. I put my hope in Him. This is the hard part, but it is the place where I am learning the most.
Stay the course, do not be afraid. The Light will be waiting for us when we need it to slingshot us back home again.