Ken Berding (KB): So…you’re a pastor who’s really into astronomy. That’s not very common among pastors. How did a pastor like you get interested in astronomy?
Robert Bishop (RB): Like a lot of people, my parents gave me a telescope for Christmas as a child. Shortly after that, we moved to Flagstaff, Arizona—which has amazing night skies and a significant history with astronomy. God gave me an innate interest in science, which my parents encouraged, so astronomy just “clicked” for me. From age eight to age twenty it was my dream to be an astronomer… until God changed my direction into ministry.
My passion was dormant for a few years, because I was busy and because L.A. is just about the worst place on earth for astronomy (no exaggeration). But astronomy is such a foundational love for me that it eventually bubbled back to the surface and I found ways to pursue it again. At this point, I do whatever I can to be with a telescope out under a dark sky as often as possible.
KB: What are some ways that your study of astronomy has helped you understand and relate to the God who created it all?
RB: For me, observing is an extended session of worship and an opportunity to be with and enjoy God. At a nerdy level I find that the physics behind it shows me God’s wisdom. Nuclear physics, relativity and quantum mechanics—which are so complex and mind-bending, are the foundation of the universe. Grappling with them is to catch the tiniest glimpse into God’s mind. Also, the vastness of the cosmos shows me his power and immensity. And, for those who will take the trouble to go someplace truly dark and who know what to look for, there is incredible diversity and beauty hidden in the night sky, pointing to God’s beauty and creativity.
KB: When you preach, you frequently draw upon examples you learned while looking at the night sky or reading books on astronomy or physics. Can you give two or three examples that might help expand our thoughts about God?
RB: There are so many… One that captures my imagination is that the known universe is a little under 100 billion light years across. (A light year, the distance light can travel in a year, or roughly six trillion miles, is the standard unit of measure in astronomy.) Isaiah tells us that God measures the universe with the span of his hand—an anthropomorphism, I know, but what a staggering image! Think about it—God measures the unthinkably immense universe between his outstretched pinkie and thumb!
Another example… A while back I was observing at a campground way out in the desert. A couple from a nearby campsite saw me and asked to look through the telescope. I happened to be observing the great nebula (a starlit gas cloud) in Orion—which was particularly beautiful that night. When the woman put her eye to the telescope she gasped and exclaimed, “Oh, Herb, you’ve got to see this! It’s beautiful… I think I’m going to cry!” If you know where to look, you can detect the nebula with the unaided eye, but just barely. However, when we remove all the man-made light noise, give it our attention and magnify it, it is breathtaking! How like our experience of God in so many ways. Our own “stuff” pollutes our vision and we sometimes magnify and are attentive to all the wrong things. If we would only be fully present to God, he would take our breath away.
One more example… When a star like the sun finally dies (and there are a lot of stars that would fall into this category), its outer layers of gas are shed and we are left with what is essentially an earth-sized chunk of carbon. Another word for a chunk of carbon is “diamond.” In a sense, the universe is filled with earth-sized diamonds. Sometimes I might be tempted to think I have something to offer God that he needs, but this image brings me back to reality. God needs nothing from me.
KB: How do you, as someone who loves looking at the stars, spiritually manage living in the Los Angeles Basin?
RB: Honestly, it’s a challenge. I work hard to get away to observe as much as possible—and I mean work hard. It takes at least four hours of driving to get to a genuinely dark sky. Since the most interesting things to look at are faint and gray, black (not gray!) skies are essential for observing. Without this everything is like looking for a polar bear in a snow storm.
God has not called me to live in a place with dark skies, but rather in a place filled with dark souls in need of the light from heaven. L.A.’s night skies are never darker than some sort of twilight. This means I mostly have to sacrifice my astronomy passion for the greater passion of serving Jesus where he has placed me. Just as observing is an opportunity for me to worship my Savior, sacrificing observing is a different kind of worship.
In a perhaps surprising way, I also find a focal point of faith and hope for the future by living in the L.A. basin. I carry both a sadness in my soul over the way things are, and a longing for what could be. Perhaps, one day, God will move me to a place with beautiful skies—perhaps not. In the meantime, I want to be faithful to his calling on my life and to enjoy the glimpses he gives me of the greater reality to come. This focus is useful for so many other things in my spiritual life as well.
KB: What are we missing when we don’t spend time thinking about this vast and beautiful universe that God has made?
RB: I think we impoverish our sense of awe and wonder and miss so much beauty that God has made. We so easily get an overinflated sense of ourselves, our significance, our power, our wisdom. A little time observing and pondering goes a long way toward “right-sizing” ourselves and draws out wonder and worship for God.
KB: Thanks for a stellar interview!
Want to hear more from Robert Bishop? Visit Redemption Hill Church in Whittier, California, or listen to one of his sermons online.
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