As I write this, “space junk” is hurtling toward our planet. The experts say the odds are pretty small that it’s going to hit me—one in 21 trillion. The odds that it will hit someone, somewhere, are a bit higher: one in 3200.
Statistics, shmatistics—I still find it unsettling.
By the time you read this, the junk will already have fallen somewhere. If, by some chance, it landed on me and this column is published posthumously, you can bet I’m up in heaven right now, shaking my head and saying, “I TOLD you this might happen.”
NASA officials say we are millions of times more likely to get struck by lightning than to have these satellite parts fall on our heads. They also keep reminding us that falling space debris has never before landed on a person.
I’m still not feeling better about this.
After all, statistics aren’t going to mean anything to that one-in-a-trillion person who gets squashed. Try telling that person it’s just a fluke. Oh, wait, you can’t—he or she will be pulverized.
I see a logic problem here: One government agency (NASA) tells me not to worry about the miniscule odds that their old satellite parts will fall on me, while another government agency (the S.C. Department of Education) constantly tries to convince me that I’ll beat miniscule odds and win millions if I just buy one of their lottery tickets.
Does that seem ironic to anyone else?
But back to the issue at hand – those pesky chunks of falling metal. Scientists can’t say exactly when they’re going to hit the earth. Silly me—I thought they had telescopes and computers and PhDs for such a time as this.
And not only don’t they know exactly when the pieces will land, they also don’t know where. The last report I heard said “somewhere between Newfoundland and Argentina.” That’s a mighty big piece of real estate.
C’mon, science guys – put those massive brains to work. Fire up those computers. Tell me if I need to wear a helmet when I venture out to Walmart this weekend.
Okay, I confess—I’m overstating my concern just a bit. Truthfully, I’m not very worried that I’ll be the one-in-a-trillion victim of falling space junk. Nevertheless, news like this can still send a small ripple across the placid waters of our well-being, can’t it?
And just about the time I forget to worry about getting hit by falling pieces of satellite, here come the newscasters with yet another story about it.
I sure wish the media paid this much attention to a much bigger news event on the horizon, this one also originating in the heavens. No one is sure when it will happen, or even exactly how it will happen, but the Bible assures us that it will, indeed, happen.
Jesus Christ will come again. Many reputable Bible scholars agree that current world happenings seem to be lining up with biblical prophecies about that inevitable event.
I’m not going to follow anybody off to a mountain somewhere to wait for the second coming of Christ, but I do catch myself glancing up at the sky occasionally, wondering, “Maybe today?”
Something infinitely more important than space junk is coming from the heavens.
And I can’t wait to meet Him.
“Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord, and that he may send the Christ, who has been appointed for you—even Jesus. He must remain in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything, as he promised long ago through his holy prophets.” (Acts 3:19-21)