We spent the weekend far away from the city, on a beautiful Green Bay shoreline where counting stars was an exercise in futility. Saturday night, I submerged my eyes in hundreds of stars and literally (or figuratively, depending on your baseline) saw God's presence in the universe.

I recalled staring into space on an African safari, overwhelmed by what had to have been thousands of stars (my attempts to systematically count them broke down around 100). Our temporary home on the Masai Mara made sounds I'd never heard before, the only thing holding me back from a modest panic attack was a fence just tall enough to keep out anything that could jump. I soaked my ears in lions and cheetahs and monkeys (oh my), until I was inebriated in God's creation.

We spent an afternoon in Nairobi's national park, with a local commuter-turned-tour-guide showing us all the uninhibited wildlife - rhinoceros, ostrich & hippos highlighting the pre-dusk time. At dusk we encountered several giraffe snacking on a treetop and watching out for anything that was looking for its own exotic dining. I remember thinking that God was showing off. Turned out he was just getting started.

As we got ready to exit the park, the sun melting into the landscape serving as our alarm clock, we came to a crossroads. Down the street were three giraffe strolling with purpose. We turned the car off and quietly waited to see how close they would get to our car. The answer was so close we could have reached out and touched them. As they walked past our car, I started to cry. I'd never felt God's presence in such a powerful way before. They moseyed in front of our car and slowly made their way up the street (in Nairobi, the animals have the right of way). We started the car and headed out. The giraffe paid us no mind though, and paced us with their long, surprisingly graceful steps, letting us follow them for quite a long time.

And all of that wildlife was free to leave the park, to come back into the city. In one neighborhood we visited, we heard stories of Henry, the giraffe who daily visited to the point where, at the end of his life, Henry got a moving eulogy in the local paper.

And above us were those stars.

In Chicago, there is lots to see, but almost all of it is man-made. And at night, we can count the stars on one hand because of all the light. And even in small-town Wisconsin where the sky is full of stars, I have first-hand evidence that without all of the unnatural light, there would be thousands more. So, for all of my love for all of what people have done with what God has created in Chicago, I have a profound sense that if you are able to count stars, something is not as it should be.

I long for God's restoration on his creation. I long to see the world as God wants me to see it, full of animals and under a canopy of plasma. In those moments I find my deepest sense of rest and personal restoration. Under the sea in Mexico and in the Mara in Africa, I saw God. And I hope to see Him again soon.

giraffe photo: taken by my wife, without a zoom, from inside our car.
africa skyline photo: me, proving that in Africa, anyone can take an amazing photo

Labels: africa, Jesus