SHINE YOUR SHINE… 

I once heard a preacher say a pidgin parable that hadn’t made much sense to me until now: “Shine your shine, let me shine my shine.”  The underlying message was, there is enough space in the universe for each star to ‘shine their shine’ without competing with or feeling threatened by the other.  When God put the lights in space, this is what was said:

And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also (Genesis 1:16).

According to the Maker, the sun and moon are both “great lights”; all the same, one light is “greater,” and the other is called “the lesser light.”  In other words, all great lights don’t shine the same; all greatness is not the same greatness, yet no greatness should threaten or be threatened by the greatness of the other.  Each light stays in its lane, shining its own light without an effort to outshine the other. 

Not only is each a “great” light; each is also created “to rule” – in its own sphere.  One rules the day, the other is ruler over the night, their operations mutual and seamless.  Their daily circuits for millennia have taught much, as each ruler, when their time is up, slowly withdraws from the stage for the other to start their shine, each respecting the other’s territory and authority, the other’s season and space.

God has not made everyone a sun, but He has made everyone a great light, each light allotted their orbit and their space – to rule.  The arrogant sun that would intrude upon the night to shine its light there, will be most reprehended by men who would rather then have the softer, milder ruler to lull them into needful rest.  Similarly, should moon and stars be fooled to stray into the sunny orbit, they will promptly lose their shine with no pity from men then too focused on picking daily manna from the earth to look up to the conflict in the sky.  People do not generally look up in the day.  The night is when they lie down and look up, thanking God for distant beauties decorating the darkness with hope and strength for another day.

Had God made everyone a sun, it would be all day and no night; all sun and no moon and stars; all work and no sleep.  That would be death.  Had He made everyone a moon, it might have been all sleep and no waking; all romance and no work; all silence with feeble lanterns mimicking the sun.  That also would be death.  According to Psalm 136, praise comes to God for each great ruler only as it acknowledges its orbit, its space, its time.

7 To him that made great lights: for his mercy endureth for ever: 

8 The sun to rule by day: for his mercy endureth for ever:  

9 The moon and stars to rule by night: for his mercy endureth for ever (Psalm 136:7-9).

King Uzzah of Israel was a very great ruler whose fame “spread far abroad,” like the sun blazing across horizons.  He was notably a helped man; not just ‘helped’ but “MARVELLOUSLY helped,” and that “till he was strong.” Unfortunately, that was when his tragic and terminal trouble started (2 Chronicles 26:15).  “But when he was strong, his heart was lifted up to his destruction” (v.16).  He had begun to shine so brightly, ruling his day, that in his conceit, he ventured off his royal orbit into the hallowed circuit of the dimmer priest in the sanctuary.  He trespassed into the temple of God and assayed there to offer incense, which was not his role.  Sadly, he would not even heed the cautions of those who sought to inform him that he was entering the wrong precincts.  He had grown too tall to hear lower mortals.  At once, the Creator stepped in, smiting him instantly with leprosy so shamefully publicly displayed in the forehead that himself, like a hasty meteor, hurried out to hide.  He spent the rest of his reproachful leprous days off his throne while the eclipse that he had caused over that atmosphere took time to clear.  Another replaced him.  A leper could not be king.

Years later, his death cleared the sky with such great relief that the prophet could not help announcing, “In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up” (Isaiah 6:1).  Until then, it seemed, whoever looked up saw only the eclipse, not the Lord on His throne.

When Aaron and Hur stepped forward to help the tired Moses, they were careful not to take the battle-determining rod from his tired hands into their ‘abler’ hands.  They knew that the outcome depended not just on the upraised rod but also on the hand that held it up.  The same rod in other (stronger) hands was not going to give the same result (Exodus 17:10-12).  They could have knocked Moses off that orbit to steal his shine, but they chose to be helping moons and stars by his waning sun.  Years later, seduced by a cheering blind crowd, Aaron seemed to have forgotten the lesson.  Forced to play a replacement to the ‘missing Moses,’ he built a national idol (Exodus 32:1-35).  Thus, he went out of his orbit and crashed in the transit wilderness, never arriving at Promised Land.

God has not made us all a sun.  God has not given to everyone the same intensity of light. We vary in brightness and orbit and space.  We vary in glory, in the nature of our light and our shine (1 Corinthians 15:40-41).  The great God has made it so.  Shine your shine, and let the other shine their shine.  You cannot be everybody, and no one else can be the best you.  Every greatness has its orbit and space.  Praise comes to God the Creator only for the light that shines its shine at its time in its space.

May you so shine your shine that the world will see your light and glorify your Creator in heaven (Matthew 4:16), singing, “for his mercy endureth forever.”  Amen. May this year set well for you and the next rise stronger.  Amen.

O Lord our Maker, help straying lights to regain their orbits.  Save great lights from the eclipse of Uzzah, and lesser lights from the error of Aaron.  Help us each to rule where You have put us, by day and by night, in Jesus name.  Amen.

From The Preacher’s diary,
December 23, 2020.