A Devotion for Shooting for the Moon

50 years ago this week, Apollo XI became the first manned spacecraft to land on the moon. This momentous occasion was before my time, but I can remember stories from both my parents as they recalled where they were on July 20, 1969. Gathered around black-and-white television sets, they, along with 600 million or so wide-eyed spectators, sat in awed admiration as Neil Armstrong descended the ladder of the Eagle and took those first powdery steps. Transfixed by the scenes folding before them, a gathered earth-community heard Armstrong proclaim these words, now etched on monuments and memorials and the very halls of history itself:

“This is one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

What was once considered outside the grasp of human accomplishment was now unfolding. What had once been thought impossible, insane, and unthinkable, was now a dream realized. A miracle, a fait accompli that would change the way Americans and the entire world thought about space and space travel.

To those watching and those of us who now share in this historical memory, the event certainly seemed miraculous. But to those scientists, physicists, astronauts, engineers, and all the people who had worked years and decades to get to this point, this miracle had legs, it had hours of sweat equity. The moon landing may indeed have been one giant leap for all of humanity – but a whole lot of humans took hundreds of small steps too.

Isn’t that the same with most of the miracles we see in Scripture? Everyday people putting one foot in front of them day by day, tirelessly working, sacrificing, and striving. Praying that God would intervene, that something impossible might happen. And sure, the intervention of God, the work of Jesus in the Gospels, the raising of the dead, and the water into wine – all of these have elements of the supernatural. But they also have a whole lot of natural. A whole lot of human grit and perseverance and dogged determination.

We read of Jesus’ first miracle in the Gospel of John at the Wedding in Cana (John 2: 11). After the party has run out of wine, Jesus takes containers of water and turns them into wine for the guests.

This story is certainly a sign of Jesus’s grace, a revelation of his glory and his identity as the Son of God, a public ministry marking who he was. But reading these verses, I can’t help but think of how the family who was hosting the wedding might have felt. They had thrown a party, done their best to set the table with gracious hospitality and invitation. Would they have been embarrassed once the wine ran out? Would the party be over?

Perhaps Jesus stepping in and providing more wine was not just to show he was capable of miracles, but to demonstrate what can happen with the human and holy conspire. Humans throw party, God makes sure the food and drink don’t run out.

What this means is that God’s movement doesn’t undo our human work and striving. It stands in the gap. We take the small step so that God, and us together as the church, may take the giant leap.

Consider this in light of the recovery work we do. Our survivors and you along with them, take hundreds of small, faithful steps, putting in the hours and days to move toward restoration. And God, in his faithfulness does for us what we cannot conceive or understand – grace in the form of grants, loans, funding, volunteers, and friendship – a giant leap of God.

We shoot for the moon. With small steps and giant leaps of faith.

With you on the journey,

Chaplain Amy