The Unshaken Sky

The Unshaken Sky

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

I’ve looked at the night sky my whole life, but I didn’t always see it the way I do now. Back then, I thought it was just there something you glanced at and moved on from. Now, I know better. That’s Him up there. The Creator stretched it wide like a boundless ocean made of light, each layer resting gently on the next, like eternity wearing robes of silk spun in His own hands. You won’t find a single snag in that robe, not a shadow that doesn’t belong. You can scan it from one end to the other see any fault? Go ahead, look again. And again. Eventually your eyes grow heavy, and your spirit just… exhales. Because you realize you’re staring at perfection, and perfection doesn’t come from us.

The sky is like a mirror without cracks, holding the reflection of His endless wisdom. And when I notice that closest layer how it’s sprinkled with fires my mind goes back to fishing at night with my grandfather. Those stars felt like they were keeping us company, each one a golden fruit hanging from an invisible branch, dripping sweetness into the dark waters.

They stand like quiet guards on the city walls of creation, holding watch while the rest of us dream below. Their light feels like a whisper in a language you can’t fully understand but know you can trust.

One day, though, this order we take for granted will tremble. The mountains those steady giants will fold into the valleys like wax giving way to heat.

The seas will draw back from the shore like a deep breath before a long sigh. The green heartbeat of this earth the grass, the trees, the bright fields will fall silent. And in that strange stillness, the hearts of those who pushed aside the Creator’s timing will pound with panic. Their voices will break the quiet: “Creator, I need You now!”

And the heavens will stand silent not because He’s gone, but because the earth itself will be speaking. Reminding them of the mornings He painted with gold for them. Of the moments He tried to get their attention through kindness they didn’t deserve, through warnings they didn’t want to hear.

That’s when it will hit: “If only we had listened. If only we had stopped and thought about it. We wouldn’t be so far from the One we now can’t stop longing for."

Yet there’s hope more than hope for those who’ve held awe for Him without ever seeing His face. Forgiveness will wash over them like cool rain after a burning day. And their reward… words can’t touch it.

So be still. Wait. Trust that the Creator knows how to lift you up when the world’s eyes are on you, when doubt gets loud. Govern yourself. Keep your tongue in check—because words can be a salve or a blade. Turn away from wrong before it even gets close. Choose kindness instead. And remember He notices every leaf that drifts to the ground. Every breath. Every tear you didn’t let fall.

I’m not writing this to throw stones. This is my lantern in the dark. My reminder that the One who hung the stars, poured the oceans, and placed my breath in my chest is still watching, still guiding, still calling my name and yours.

The Parable of the Three Lamps

I’ve carried this story with me like a pocket stone. A traveler once set out across a wild, moonless land. In his pack, he had three lamps, each full of oil enough to see him safely to the village beyond the hills. The first one he lit too soon, wasting its glow on shapes and shadows that didn’t matter. The oil ran dry before he even reached the hard part of the road.

The second lamp he lit halfway along, but curiosity pulled him ahead. He tilted it too high, trying to see far beyond what was in front of him, and the cold wind took the flame. The third lamp stayed full. He told himself the dawn would beat the darkness, so he left it in the pack.

But the night only deepened.

The road disappeared. And he stood there in the dark, calling, “Where’s my light? Where’s my guide?”

The lamps hadn’t failed him. They were gifts. He just hadn’t trusted them. He didn’t use them when they were meant to be used.

We’re like that with the Creator’s guidance. He hands us truth, patience, obedience lamps filled and ready. If we waste their oil on distractions, if doubt blows them out, or if we leave them untouched because we think we’ve got time, we’ll end up stumbling in a darkness that was never supposed to be ours.

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