Falling Star

words and music by Doug Howell (31 Aug 1976)

ah, Falling Star,
You fill my eyes with such surprise
and the sky seems
more empty than before when You’re gone

oh, how You shine!
You can break right through
this darkness of mine
oh, how You shine!
You can take away
this darkness of mine

ah, Morning Star,
You fill the night with such pure light
and You cause the morning sun
to blush for shame
when You rise

ah, Morning Star,
You fill me with such glory when You rise
Falling Star,
You fell down from the sky
to give me light

1979 Notes

Often on a summer night, I like to go out under the stars, away from the distracting lights, and lie on my back, facing the sky. I try to imagine the universe as it really is: me, a mere speck of matter, pressed against the surface of an insignificant planet called Earth, whirling through space in an orbit 93,000,000 miles away from the sun—which is in itself only a modest-sized star in a galaxy made up of millions and millions of other stars… And there I am, looking out (not up) on the far distant past, feeling very small and insignificant indeed.

And then, suddenly, a blaze of light streaks across the sky. And I am reminded that in this awesome universe God created by the Word of His power, I am somehow important. For some unfathomable reason, He Himself became a “falling star” that burned up in our stifling atmosphere of pride and hate. And because He gave His all to give us light, it was given Him to rise again, the Morning Star.

And then I thank Him in silence for surprising me in my darkness, and for rising to banish it forever.

2007 Notes

Grandpa Regis bought my brother a shotgun when he turned 12 years old. When it was my turn to turn 12, he must have had an inkling that I might want something else, so he gave me a choice. I chose a telescope. After all, I belonged to a science fiction book club, loved the sci-fi shows on TV, and even taught myself to type so I could submit the little sci-fi stories I wrote for publication; so it made sense.

People around me made allowances for my obsession, too. My Great-Grandpa May used to hold me on his lap and he’d say, “Now, what do you think about flying saucers? Do you think they’re real? Do you think there is life on other planets?” For someone like him, who seemed to know everything, to actually treat the subject as if it were worth talking about… That was something I’ll never forget. Even my Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Dodson, used to indulge me by having serious discussions about whether or not Ezekial’s “wheels” may have really been flying saucers. And Pastor Mitchell used to come over, bring his telescope, and open the whole, vast amazing sky full of constellations and double stars and galaxies to my amazed little mind.

I have a better telescope now (Davey got me a nice one for my last birthday), but the amazement is still the same, whether the images are blurry or clear. The One who made all these wonders loves me. That is the one wonder that trumps every other wonder I’ve ever known.