
The other morning at 2:30 a.m., while most of the world was still asleep, I stepped out into the stillness for one of my early walks. There’s something sacred about those pre-dawn hours—the sky still dark, the air crisp, and the stars quietly holding their place in the heavens. As I walked, I looked up and caught sight of the moon—strawberrry-lit and glowing like a divine fingerprint. It stirred something deep in me.
I couldn’t help but think of the early astronomers, those faithful stargazers who mapped the heavens with nothing but their eyes and wonder. They didn’t have telescopes or satellites, just hearts filled with awe and the desire to understand what God had set into motion. Even then, the moon and stars spoke clearly. “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.” —Psalm 19:1
And this morning, they were still speaking.
As the walk continued, the world slowly woke up around me. Two young deer stood quietly in a clearing, their eyes wide with curiosity. A bunny rabbit darted across the trail, light on its feet. An opossum made its slow, cautious trek across the road, while a turtle sat unmoving at the edge of the path—steady and content. I passed a pond where ducks floated peacefully, and heard rustling in the brush that turned out to be an armadillo minding its own business. And yes—there were even huge spiderwebs, glistening in the early dew, stretching across the trail. I had to duck more than once to avoid a face full of web.
And yet—even the spiders were part of it.

Every creature, every breeze, every flickering star in the sky was playing its role in this silent symphony of praise. Romans 1:20 says, “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.”
This is General Revelation—God revealing Himself through what He has made. You don’t need a pulpit or a choir to experience God. You just need eyes to see and a heart willing to listen.
Even the less-than-pleasant parts of creation—the spiders, the dark woods, the moments of discomfort—play a part in the bigger picture. Just like in life, not every season is smooth or easy. But every season has purpose. Every thread of the spider’s web is spun with design. In the same way, even our difficult moments are part of God’s story, part of how He shapes and grows us.
My morning walk reminded me that God is not far off. He is not only the God of the heavens—He is the God of turtles, and rabbits, and spiderwebs. He is the God of the in-between hours and the quiet roads. He is as near as your next breath and as vast as the galaxies.
We often search for signs, wonders, and words from God, but sometimes the loudest declaration is simply this: “Look around. I made all of this. I see you. I love you.”
You are not forgotten.
You are not alone.
You are part of the story.
The same God who holds the stars in place is holding you. I hope this speaks to you, and I pray you have a blessed day!
Prayer:
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the quiet reminders of Your presence. Thank You for early morning walks and the way Your creation reveals Your glory. Open our eyes to see You in the ordinary—in the deer, the stars, the spiderwebs, and even in the uncomfortable parts of life. Help us to slow down and recognize the beauty You’ve placed all around us. Speak to us through the world You’ve made. Remind us that if You care for every creature in the forest, how much more do You care for us? Let Your creation stir up wonder and worship in our hearts today. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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