My initial location to view the solar eclipse last week was going to be covered in clouds, so I decided to drive in a different direction towards a region where clear skies were forecast. A friend in that area welcomed us to join her there. So my wife, another friend, and I set off, hoping for the best in our aim to witness the totality.
We held our eclipse glasses to our eyes to see the slowly dwindling crescent of the sun. It was so odd to see the shape of the sun changing in a way that we normally only see with the moon. Eventually the sliver disappeared and totality began. All the cars on the road went quiet as everybody focused on the sky.
The experience was truly epic. The ring of fire was incredible! I saw the swirling gasses of plasma streaming and flowing outward from the dark circular centre. Streetlights came on across the dim neighbourhood. We could see the colours of sunset across the whole horizon all around us. The air even got cool.
My wife and friends were totally amused when I started unconsciously yelping and screaming when totality began. I was absolutely freaking out. Me, the person who rarely lets out any emotion or reactions, the person who rarely has his mind blown. But seeing the ring of fire with my naked eyes was inexplicably overwhelming.
It took me a while to process my emotions and reactions, to identify the emotions and distill them into thoughts and reflections. I realized I was shouting and screaming in a mixture of awe, fear, uncertainty, delight, and stress. The awe is easy to attribute – the view of the eclipse was amazing. The stress was hilariously obvious also: I was trying to capture the event with three cameras in addition to seeing it with my naked eyes. And the delight of enjoying this rare phenomenon with my wife and friends was not hard to identify.
The fear and uncertainty took longer to put into words. How could I know with full confidence that the scientists and experts were trustworthy enough that I could take off my eclipse glasses during totality without risking damage to my eyes? Was I going to see the eclipse only to lose my eyesight? How would I know when I should put the eclipse glasses back on? What if I put them back on too late?
The feeling was like plummeting down the first descent of a roller-coaster for the first time. Or going way too fast on a bicycle down a steep rugged trail. Or approaching weightlessness swinging as a kid. Or standing on the shore of the ocean with powerful waves thundering all around.
It all made me think of how Moses on Mount Sinai may have felt when God allowed him to have a glimpse of his glory. The moon during the eclipse was like a veil shielding us from the power of the sun to allow us to see some of its glory with our eyes. I understood that I could not stare at the full glory of the face of God directly and still live (Exodus 33:20).
The diamond appeared on the ring of fire and we quickly put our eclipse glasses back on. The eerie light of the returning sunlight was fascinating and the remainder of the partial eclipse passed quickly as we packed up and began to drive home. Now that the experience has passed, it has caused me to reevaluate and cherish in a new way the warmth, radiance, and glimpses of God that I experience through each relationship I encounter, each person created in the image of God and worth infinitely more than the celestial bodies. I also meditate on the greater reality, the greatest expectation of the coming day when there will be no need for the light of a lamp or the sun, and the Lord will be our light (Revelation 22:5).
Heavenly Father, the true Light of the World, thank you for glimpses of your glory, in the beauty you have created, and especially in people, each one made in your image. Thank you for the moments shared, both the rare and the common, that remind me that you are still more than I currently understand. When things seem dark, or difficult, please remind me of the coming day when you will be our light, and we will see you face to face. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Throughout this day: You might like to meditate on my poem about the True Light.