Have you ever had one of those moments when, for no particular reason, you encounter your smallness? One very insignificant day a lot of years ago, I had an unexpected existential moment while standing on my driveway, looking at a fresh cut lawn as dusk fell. A beautiful, cloudless spring day was giving way to a crisp, clear serene evening. It was peaceful, and I lost myself in thought, wholly content.
While absorbing the scene, I became preoccupied with a small butterfly, flitting and scrambling from one blade of grass to another, its flight a series of irregular heaves and tumbles. How tiny, I thought, I wonder where that little one will end up? As my gaze followed the butterfly across the yard, I saw that the grass was moving, but not because of a breeze. Countless bugs, large and small, made my yard their home. Their toilsome little lives stirred the ground almost imperceptibly, but taking in the yard all at once, the grass appeared to roll slightly like a wave. The neighborhood birds lighted on the branches of an oak tree next door, and my wide-eyed cat watched from the porch, twitching for an opportunity to give chase.
I couldn’t help but notice how dense with life was this one little plot of ground. In just those few moments, I saw my yard teeming with tiny creatures, each with a day appointed for birth and for death, and each with a life full of care in between—not unlike myself. It struck me that for all I could see, there was so much more that I could not see—some because it is too small and some because it is so large. Such an infinitesimal slice of God’s creation, and yet to me it was endless with layers and levels. As the stars peeked out of an infinite, inky blue sky, I lingered, observing life, carrying life that has been passed down from the beginning—from Let there be . . .
It began with the clumsy, chaotic course of one butterfly, but left me with a chilling sense of awe. How very, very small I am. I wonder where this little one will end up?
My life, packed with all my worries and concerns, seems huge to me. But I’m just a microscopic piece of an inestimable masterpiece. Out of all that has been made and all the ages that have passed, how can just one matter at all? Aren’t I just a little creature, moving almost imperceptibly through life, and once gone, easily forgotten?
“Through Him all things were made, and without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not mastered it.” John 1:3-5
My God created everything out of nothing. I’ve been a believer for a long time, and yet that’s still so much for me to take in. Through the Word, all that I know—and can’t possibly know–came into existence. From the intricate design on the wings of a butterfly to the enormity of this limitless universe, we owe all that we are and have to God, the Word, who made it all. But notice, the Word offers something unique to man–light and eternal life.
Jesus was there, a full participant in the Creation, enjoying the glory that He deserves. But because the world fell into darkness with no power to free itself, the Word came to re-create the world. All the power and light of the Creator became a creature to free us from a darkness which we first chose. Rather than turning away and leaving us to God’s wrath, He chose to bring eternal life and light where it is not deserved and can never be earned.
If anything validates our existence, it is this good news! The One whose value is incalculable became small, one of us, to shine a light in the darkness that evil can neither extinguish nor master. Not only that, He came to love, rebirth, and give purpose to each infinitesimal slice of creation who receives Him and believes in His name.
Do you belong to Him? Have you left the worthless to follow the One who is worthy? You are not a piece of a creation puzzle that is optional or insignificant. You are a vital part of this inestimable masterpiece—ordained with call to singular devotion and a purpose to reflect His glory.
But, it gets even better! When you become a follower of Christ, He comes alongside and joins you in that clumsy, chaotic flight. No more scrambling and tumbling, He gives us sure footing, purpose in our walk, and security in our future with Him. And never will you have to ask, where will this little one end up?