bright and beautiful

listen to these (with your eyes closed):

alligator sky


then remember that He placed each of the stars precisely in the sky and knows where every individual one is. He knows where the black holes are, the red dwarfs, the brown dwarfs, the nebulas, the galaxies — any little particle of anything that ever was. He walks among them and calls them by their names, names that are older and more true than any mythologically themed constellations humans could dream up.

and remember that He knows each little particle of you, all your mitochondria and cells and the thousand microscopic floaty things in your blood. He put all of that together to create the specific you that you are. He knows your name and why you have it, knows the number of hairs on your head and the ones you pretend not to have on your toes. He knows all the thoughts you think and the things you don’t say, and loves you with a love more intense and bright and beautiful than the light that all the heavenly bodies put together could produce.

He loves you.

He loves me. there’s never a “He loves me not.”


remind yourself of what is true over, and over, and over again. you never don’t need to know. there is always more to know. if you don’t know, how can you tell anyone else?

“Why do you confuse the issue? Why do you talk without knowing what you’re talking about? Pull yourself together, Job! Up on your feet! Stand tall! I have some questions for you, and I want some straight answers. Where were you when I created the earth? Tell me, since you know so much! Who decided on its size? Certainly you’ll know that! Who came up with the blueprints and measurements? How was its foundation poured, and who set the cornerstone, While the morning stars sang in chorus and all the angels shouted praise? And who took charge of the ocean when it gushed forth like a baby from the womb? That was me! I wrapped it in soft clouds, and tucked it in safely at night. Then I made a playpen for it, a strong playpen so it couldn’t run loose, And said, ‘Stay here, this is your place. Your wild tantrums are confined to this place.'” — job 38:2, the message

“So—who is like me? Who holds a candle to me?” says The Holy. Look at the night skies: Who do you think made all this? Who marches this army of stars out each night, counts them off, calls each by name —so magnificent! so powerful!— and never overlooks a single one?” — isaiah 40:25, the message

and i belong to Him. He belongs to me.

oh my.

“we are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.” — g.k. chesterton

how can we get so numbed against something that should take our breath away?

{random sidenote: apparently owl city, who wrote the songs up at the top of this post,  is an introvert, too.}