Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars. —Psalm148:3 (niv)

A portion of my faith comes from looking at the night sky. After a dazzling day, a colorful sunset can be glorious, unpredictable, and brief. However, there is nothing brief about the nightly glories of a desert sky.

For instance, when the new moon hovers near Venus, their dual re­flected luminosity is not usually hidden behind clouds. The conspicuous cycle of Venus, called its synodic period, lasts nineteen months. During this time, Venus is the evening star for nine months. The new moon and Venus will flirt in proximity somewhere above the western horizon once every month. The two crescents slowly set together but not until savored minutes have stretched into hours.

Did Sarah stare at a sliver of silver in the west for nine months and know that the God Who placed such a lamp also could place a baby in the womb of an old woman? Did Mary see the light of Venus, brighter than any other star, and hang her faith on the new moon next to it? Couldn’t she indeed carry the Light of the World within her because the Creator of life also created the two bright lights hovering over her? Did her faith increase, as mine does today, from seeing a cycle of light that lasts from conception to birth? The same cycle, then as now, for Sarah, for Mary, for me.