Like many of you, I found myself a little captivated last month watching Artemis II unfold. The images, the anticipation, the sheer wonder of it all. There’s something about space that pulls us out of the ordinary rhythms of life and reminds us that we’re part of something much bigger than our daily routines.
When talking about Artemis II a friend shared with me a phrase called “the overview effect,” a term coined by space philosopher Frank White. Astronauts describe it as the experience of seeing Earth from space and suddenly realizing how small, fragile, and unified everything is. Borders disappear. Divisions feel artificial. The things that seemed so important down here lose their grip. And in their place comes this deep sense that we actually belong to one another. It’s striking, isn’t it? That it often takes that kind of distance to see clearly.
Because most of us don’t struggle with a lack of information. We struggle with a lack of
perspective. We live close to everything. Close to our opinions. Close to our frustrations. Close to the headlines, the algorithms, the constant noise telling us who to be for and who to be against. And when you live that close for that long, everything starts to feel bigger than it actually is. Every disagreement feels personal. Every difference feels like distance.
So we slowly lose sight of what matters most. Instead of lifting our eyes, we lower them. We get caught in what could be called a kind of navel gazing. Our world shrinks down to our
preferences, our opinions, our frustrations, our little corners of life. And when that happens, it becomes easier to divide, to label, to other. It becomes easier to forget that the person across from us shares the same breath, the same fragility, the same need for grace. Not because the world got smaller, but because our vision did.
“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” (Colossians 3:2)
You don’t need to leave the earth to see this clearly. You just need to lift your eyes. To look
beyond yourself. To remember that the person in front of you is not your enemy but your
neighbor. To recognize that in a world that feels fractured and divided, Jesus is still holding all things together, including us.
Maybe the invitation this week is simple. Step out of the small story you’ve been living in. Lift your gaze. Pay attention to the bigger picture. And then step back into your relationships with that kind of perspective.
Because when we begin to see rightly, we begin to love differently.
peace,
Nick
When talking about Artemis II a friend shared with me a phrase called “the overview effect,” a term coined by space philosopher Frank White. Astronauts describe it as the experience of seeing Earth from space and suddenly realizing how small, fragile, and unified everything is. Borders disappear. Divisions feel artificial. The things that seemed so important down here lose their grip. And in their place comes this deep sense that we actually belong to one another. It’s striking, isn’t it? That it often takes that kind of distance to see clearly.
Because most of us don’t struggle with a lack of information. We struggle with a lack of
perspective. We live close to everything. Close to our opinions. Close to our frustrations. Close to the headlines, the algorithms, the constant noise telling us who to be for and who to be against. And when you live that close for that long, everything starts to feel bigger than it actually is. Every disagreement feels personal. Every difference feels like distance.
So we slowly lose sight of what matters most. Instead of lifting our eyes, we lower them. We get caught in what could be called a kind of navel gazing. Our world shrinks down to our
preferences, our opinions, our frustrations, our little corners of life. And when that happens, it becomes easier to divide, to label, to other. It becomes easier to forget that the person across from us shares the same breath, the same fragility, the same need for grace. Not because the world got smaller, but because our vision did.
“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” (Colossians 3:2)
You don’t need to leave the earth to see this clearly. You just need to lift your eyes. To look
beyond yourself. To remember that the person in front of you is not your enemy but your
neighbor. To recognize that in a world that feels fractured and divided, Jesus is still holding all things together, including us.
Maybe the invitation this week is simple. Step out of the small story you’ve been living in. Lift your gaze. Pay attention to the bigger picture. And then step back into your relationships with that kind of perspective.
Because when we begin to see rightly, we begin to love differently.
peace,
Nick