Stargazing
- Tim Doppel
- Jan 2
- 3 min read

Epiphany Sunday; Matthew 2:1-12
We observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay homage.
When was the last time you laid on your back and stared up into the night sky and took in the stars? Okay – it’s Michigan, and its winter, so it might have been a few months. I get it. But has it been longer than that? If it has, make yourself a promise to do it sometime this spring or summer (when the clouds clear). You are never too old or infirm to stargaze.
Last summer, we went to a “dark sky” park. It is a designated area where no streetlights, headlights, houselights, or even flashlights can intrude on the darkness. As a result, the view of the stars is nearly perfect. There are professional, as well as amateur, photographers there to capture the night sky. But there are also individuals and families who have come to just lie on a blanket and look up. And to let the light from billions of miles away soak into their souls.
Here’s a fun fact: the closest star to earth (besides the Sun, duh) is called Proxima Centauri. The light from Proxima takes 4 years and 3 months to get to your eyeball. In comparison, the sun’s light only takes 8 minutes and 20 seconds. In our Milky Way galaxy, there are estimated to be 100 billion stars. In the entire universe, there are estimated to be more stars than there are grains of sand on the entire earth. Those numbers are, in many ways, incomprehensible, and certainly mind numbing. I mean, I need both hands just to count to ten!
The stars in the sky serve another purpose. They help to remind me that I am just an itty-bitty part of this universe. When my ego gets just a bit to big to fit through the door, I am encouraged to go look at the stars. Lying there, and looking up, shows me the wonder of God’s magnificent creation and reminds me that what I can see is such a small portion of the total universe.
Without realizing it, I slow down. I feel more calm. I become more aware of the sounds of the night, of myself, of my breath, of the slow turning of the Earth. “When you’re focusing on the stars, you’re not scrolling through social media, zoning out in front of the TV, or staring at your out-of-control inbox,” write Sarah Scoles and her coauthor Christopher G. De Pree in Astronomical Mindfulness: Your Cosmic Guide to Reconnecting with the Sun, Moon, Stars, and Planets.
The turning of the earth makes the stars appear to move. It can make one want to see where a particular star may go as it moves across the night sky and over the horizon. There is a legend that a group of astrologers once felt that urge to follow a star. And it led them across the miles to a little town in Judea. The story tells us that they paid homage to a baby with lavish gifts. And then they returned home.
I wonder what they talked about on their journey home. I wonder if they became believers of Jesus or if they ever even heard of him again in their lifetime. I wonder if they felt the long journey there and back was worth it. Following stars can be perilous. Following stars can take you places you never dreamed of going.
What star am I willing to follow this Epiphany? Will I risk being led to a place outside of my comfort zone? Will I be open to search the sky for Christ in unlikely places, to do things that seem naive and even foolish, as I seek God’s presence among us? I become reminded of my small but integral place in the universe; and of my role to share the love that created the night sky with all whom I encounter. For therein I shall see the face of Christ.
Every Day.
© 2026 by Timothy J. Doppel
All Rights Reserved




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