“We have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him.” (Matthew 2:2)


Something draws me to gaze at the night sky. One night there was an opening in the clouds with  one very bright star twinkling down. In my quick and limited research, I have concluded that it could be Vega, the brightest star in the Lyra constellation.  Lyra, according to Greek mythology, is associated with the myth of Orpheus, the musician whose music was so sweet that Zeus  placed Orpheus and his harp in the night sky. Lyra has been known as Kind David’s harp. But did you know it is also known as the Manger of the Infant Savior? That’s all the research I needed for my Advent journey.

Why does star-gazing bring tears? 

Looking into the night sky is a discipline I learned during a time when nothing made sense in my life. I would go outside during the night and feel the darkness suffocating me. As I struggled for breath, I would turn from the darkness and look up. Tears would fill my eyes. Strength would flood my soul.  Courage would  pump into my depleted heart. As I looked up, grace came down and filled me until the next night when I would return depleted and needy to the stars above my head.

To look up and “see” the Manger of the Infant Savior shining down – oh, not shining, but dancing and twinkling, strong and pure, fixed and secure in all of time and space – well, tears are fitting. Tears of joy. Tears of gratitude. Tears of awe and wonder.

I love the way one pastor talks about star-gazing:

The Star leads to God.

                Only those who look, see.

                                Only those who follow, find.

                                                Not every one follows.

                                                                Those who follow, always find.

Jesus, You who are the Bright Morning Star,

                when I look I see you, 

                      when I follow, I find you and I worship you.