“Some time later, the Lord spoke to Abram in a vision and said to him, “Do not be afraid, Abram, for I will protect you, and your reward will be great.”
But Abram replied, “O Sovereign Lord, what good are all your blessings when I don’t even have a son? Since you’ve given me no children, Eliezer of Damascus, a servant in my household, will inherit all my wealth. You have given me no descendants of my own, so one of my servants will be my heir.”
Then the Lord said to him, “No, your servant will not be your heir, for you will have a son of your own who will be your heir.” Then the Lord took Abram outside and said to him, “Look up into the sky and count the stars if you can. That’s how many descendants you will have!”
And Abram believed the Lord, and the Lord counted him as righteous because of his faith.” Genesis 15.1-6 (NLT)
My youngest daughter and I have a date next August. She attends school in southern Illinois, and she is a weather nerd. She knows that her location will be prime for viewing the solar eclipse next summer, and I have promised we will view it together.
When the sun goes dark, planet earth gets as dark as it can ever be. The sun is our star, and it gives us life and light. The ancients cringed in terror at a solar eclipse with good reason. They knew their dependence on the star, and they did not know it would return.
The Lord took Abram to view the night sky so he would experience the grand enormity of it all. For every star, there would be a descendant. And there were a lot of stars. Toward the end of his life, Abram received an incredible promise—he would still see hope, in the form of a child.
Toward the end of the night, with all its sin and fear, God promises us, as he did Abram, that we will see hope, in the form of a child. A child in a stable who would be the Morning Star.
I, Jesus, . . . am both the source of David and the heir to his throne. I am the bright morning star.” (Revelation 22.16, NLT)
When night is at its darkest and bleakest, the morning star can be seen over the horizon, promising that night does not last forever, hope waits, and that joy comes in the morning.
Many people feel we are in the midst of a very dark night. We’re not sure when the morning will come. We’re not certain of hope. We feel the sun has gone dark. National and personal turmoil make us wonder if we will stare at the world around us and see nothing but darkness forever.
Yet like Abram, we have the promise. We know that hope does not disappoint because the One who called himself the Morning Star has already appeared on our horizon. Unlike Abram, we do not wait any longer.
Yes, we wait for the final day when Jesus will appear again and finally destroy the darkness. Meanwhile, we wait with expectation—not fear. Expectation that the promise has arrived, the light has come, the day is here, and we are heralds of the light, not tremblers at the darkness.
Dark is no longer dark when the smallest bit of light shines into it. Night is no longer black when one star pierces it. When Jesus came into that manger one cold night, he ended the possibility of complete darkness forever. The Morning Star, that harbinger of light and joy, became flesh and walked among us. With his resurrection, he promised it would never be overpowered.
So long as we know the Morning Star, we know hope walks among us. We know light is on the horizon. We know that when the sun goes dark and all looks hopeless, the same sky Abram looked on promised us all an heir—a Star of light and hope. Not the sun. The Son.
What are some of your greatest fears right now? What seems darkest in your life?
How does Jesus’ identity as the Morning Star right now change the way you look at those fears?