We're hurtling through space at thousands of miles per hour on a spinning globe. I can imagine it—a small ball flung from the hand of the Creator-God. He embedded some mysterious force into that ball we now call gravity. And the very act of hurling it into the void unleashed such... chaos. No wonder the seas rage, the earth convulses in earthquakes, and the mountains shift. It's a miracle that our atmosphere doesn't constantly shatter—fluctuating, expanding, collapsing—as we rocket through the nothingness of space.
We do the same thing.
We plummet through life like it will last forever—racing from one fast-food stop to the next, pinging across instant messages, scrolling endlessly through the wonders at our fingertips. Eyes locked in, attention hijacked. And all the while, we miss the stars. We miss the rings of Saturn spinning silently past, vanishing into the unknown future.
Eventually, this life ends. Eventually, the ball must plummet.
Come down.
Crash and burn.
Just like us. You and me. We are like that ball. Just because we’re standing on it, or sitting, or laying back and pretending—pretending our lives carry more weight than they possibly could.
After all, how much value can 8 billion tiny beings have, clinging to a rock flung into the cosmos? They live and die in seconds. They’re nothing. Like grass—here today, tossed into the fire tomorrow.
And yet… if Scripture is to be believed—and it should be—the Creator-God who fast-pitched that little blue ball into being… actually cares. He sees the 8 billion small souls darting through their nanosecond lives. Every. Single. One. They are specks of dust compared to His eternal breath—and still, He loves them.
He loves us.
There's going to be a New Heaven. A New Earth. New bodies waiting for us—if we’ve found the Way, the Truth, and the Life as promised. For whoever calls upon the Name of the Lord shall be saved. And His Name? It is the Name above all names.
But why?
Why would this infinite Creator-God care?
Why send His Son?
Even the hairs on our heads are numbered. The days of our lives are counted. To Him, our time is like mist in the morning sun. And still… He loves us. Each and every one of us. All 8 billion. Living on that little ball hurtling through space.
He gave up His most treasured possession—not gold, not silver, not dominion or galaxies.
He gave His one and only Son.
Imagine Gabriel the Archangel standing before the Creator-God, asking, “What will it take to rescue humanity?”
“Only the most precious gift,” the Creator answers softly, like a Father. “Just My own Son, whom I love beyond measure.”
Gabriel stiffens, stunned. “You must love them… these little ones… as much as—” he hesitates, “forgive me—as much as Your own Son.”
The Creator-God turns His gaze to that fragile spinning world. His eyes well. Tears form—not of regret, but resolve. He sees each face. Each heart. Yours.
And He replies to the trembling archangel:
“I do… I do love them. Oh, so much.”