“Heights were made to be looked at, not to be looked from. . . . Humility is the mother of giants. One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak.”
–G. K. Chesterton, Father Brown
I ask you to think about it. Only think about it.
Me? I agree easily with Gilbert Keith. I don’t like heights. When my dad and brothers climb to the tops of things, I stay on the ground with my mother, content to see the tops from afar. I haven’t any desire to ever be in outer space, but I love to look at the stars.
The grand thing is to be small and to know it. To be able to lift up your eyes to the hills because they are larger than you, because they represent the sure help of the One who made heaven and earth, hills and stars. To consider the heavens, and to marvel that that One who ordained moon and stars takes thought of man.
But there’s this: in the smallness, to not be overwhelmed. To not, though unable to number the stars, give up looking at them. To keep looking at the heights. Because if I don’t, I risk thinking that the anthills at my feet are mountains and I am the giant. And the truth is, I’m not.