I'm writing a science-based devotional

A collection of love-letters to Jesus from an astrophysicist

To comprehend His wisdom and majesty and power

Anyone who has tried to write a book knows that it’s hard work. I’ve been in the process of writing a book for years now. Inspiration comes and goes, work and everyday life intervenes, and sometimes you just hit that rock wall of fatigue and heartbreak.

My first book attempt, which has hovered at 80% completion for a long time, is about the scientific case for the God of the Bible. The main part of it is already written. But work on it started to slow down after a while, and at some point I found myself avoiding it entirely. Then I had a falling out with my writing partner over conflicting visions for what we were trying to do. It got to the point that the mere thought of the book caused me to sink into a place of darkness.

Hello, rock wall.

Not long before, I’d hit another wall with my scientific research. I just didn’t have it in me to finish my last research project and write the paper, despite the fact that it’s been 90% complete for a long time.

I think this has all been a long time coming. Some of you who have followed me on social media are aware of the events of the last several years. I lost my first child to a fatal genetic abnormality. I lost my best friend to cancer. I lost a grandmother who was like a mother to me. I nearly lost my husband to a tick-borne disease. I went through three rounds of cancer, including seven surgeries and two courses of radiation. I nearly died of an infection between surgeries. Somewhere in there I went through severe postpartum depression after my second child was born. Somehow I survived all of that emotionally intact, or so I had thought. Then in 2020, when I had finally healed from the last of the surgeries and radiation, and was looking forward to getting my life back, the pandemic happened and the world went insane. I finally just broke.

I had no desire to do the work I had loved so much. I couldn't do science anymore. I couldn't finish my book. It was all gone.

I went into survival mode and focused mainly on exercise to build back my health.

What many of you may not know about me is that I have a creative streak. I was once a graphic artist. I used to write fiction. I used to create beautiful crafts and textiles. I stopped doing all of that for a long time after going through those losses and heartbreaks. I just lost the will.

But surprisingly, I’ve found myself getting the creative spark back, and wanting to work on more artistic, spiritual, intuitive type projects. I just didn't know what exactly.

Then a couple of weeks ago, I got a sudden flash that I wanted to write a book of devotions. Specifically, I wanted to write devotions inspired by the prayers and observations of notable Christian scientists throughout history.

It's not as provocative as a science-based apologetics book, it’s not as clout-building as publishing a scientific research paper. But it's something that fills me with a sense of peace for now.

Here is a sample of what I've started writing.

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To know the mighty works of God, to comprehend His wisdom and majesty and power; to appreciate, in degree, the wonderful workings of His laws, surely all this must be a pleasing and acceptable mode of worship to the Most High, to whom ignorance cannot be more grateful than knowledge. – Nicolaus Copernicus

Astronomy is the oldest science in the world, and for good reason. Night after night, for as long as humans have existed in the world, we have had the entire natural laboratory of the universe open itself up to us.

But thousands of years ago, long before the invention of telescopes and the discovery of natural laws, people did not regard the universe as a laboratory, but rather the abode of gods. Some people believed that the stars themselves were divine beings. If you ever get a chance to look up at a clear night sky from a place unobscured by urban lights, you will instantly understand why. The night sky is astonishing. It is absolutely awash in stars. From our perspective, it is an embarrassment of celestial riches. You can understand why people thought gods would live in such an opulent place. But the idea of gods living in the separate realm of the heavens was not very comforting to prehistoric and ancient people. Why would beings who lived among the stars give much thought to the tiny inhabitants below them?

This view of the order of things is one of the reasons Christianity is so unexpected. One of the most revolutionary revelations of the Bible is that the heavens—that is, the physical universe—is not the abode of the divine, but rather a creation of the divine. (“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” – Genesis 1:1) It is not where the gods live, it is where we live.

Thousands of years after the Bible revealed to us the true nature of the universe as a created thing, natural philosophers who put their minds to the study of God’s creation realized that there is no distinction between the world “down here” and the world “up there.” It is all one and the same. We inhabit a small, rocky planet orbiting the Sun, which is itself one of the thousands of stars visible to us in the sky. We are afloat in the great sea of the cosmos in our own little terrestrial ship called Earth. We do not merely watch the goings on of the vast universe, we are part of it, plying our way through it with sails unfurled.

As revolutionary as it is to know our true place in the universe, there is a yet more transformative revelation in the Bible. The God who created this vast universe is far more immense, powerful, and intelligent than any gods we could imagine. He created this universe, after all, and is not merely a manipulator of an eternal cosmos. Not only does He think about the inhabitants of our little terrestrial ship—one of perhaps ten billion trillion such vessels in the observable universe—but He loves us. He loves us with such intensity that He condescended to live here as one of us. During His short time on Earth, He healed, He ministered, He proclaimed the truth, and He paid the price of reconciliation so that we might live with Him forever (“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” – John 10:10).

Our God is no mere god, dweller among the stars, but Jesus Christ, Creator and commander of every star in the universe (“For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.” – Colossians 1:16).

The thought of such a powerful and immense God loving us is so unexpected, so incredible, and so precious that it takes our breath away.

When we think of all that Jesus has done for us, we naturally feel the urge to give something in return. But what could we possibly give to Jesus to show our love and gratitude? Certainly our trust and obedience. But also, as Copernicus points out, our appreciation, reverence, and awe for what He has created. What better place to observe Jesus’ wisdom, majesty, and power than in the universe He created? Far from an act of impertinence or a gesture beneath His notice, it is an act of worship to observe and study what He has made, and seek to understand its physical laws, written by Him in all His wisdom. This is why Jesus made the universe so enticingly beautiful. We cannot help but be drawn to it, and through it, to Him.

Prayer

Dear Lord Jesus,

We praise you for what you have created. Only You could have made a universe so audaciously and yet so wholesomely beautiful.

We give thanks for its beauty and immensity, for the awe we feel when we behold it, contemplate it, and study it.

We give thanks for the intelligibility of your creation and Your invitation to us to study it, through which we may know but a little of your wisdom, majesty, and power. We ask for wisdom and humility as we try to understand it all.

Most of all, we give thanks that in all Your greatness, You not only think of us, but love us with an intensity that matches the scale and beauty of Your creation.

You are our God, forever and always.

Amen.